Angry Bees

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Today was totally awesome, right up to about 4-5 hours ago.

I’m better now, but still recovering. Here’s what happened …

First thing this morning, about 8:30 a, I donned my work clothes, using my nifty yardstick suspenders to hold them up because they are too big now. That’s not totally true, of course, because I always use those suspenders on my work pants. It’s kind of like a trade mark. Jennifer gave them to me as a joke, but I wear them almost every day when I’m working. I love those suspenders.

Before doing garage ‘stuff’, I hitched the trailer up to the mower because it was full of wood, from a dismantled couch, and I didn’t want it to be that way. So, I carted it down to the burn pile and tossed it all out. On the way back, I stopped along the fence, over which hangs our neighbor’s walnut tree, and gathered up a little more than one Avon box lid of walnuts. The last time I did that, I had about 5 lids full, one layer.

The walnuts got me into the ‘picking’ mood, so I moved on to the two apple trees that still have fruit on them, and added them to the trailer. There were at least 10 dozen apples, many of which will be converted into applesauce.

Shortly before 9:50 am, Diane took off in a panic because she had an appointment to get her flu shot at her doctor’s office but she couldn’t find her purse. She drove herself anyway, which is definitely against the law. I briefly considered calling the police to turn her in but figured that wouldn’t end well for me. So, I ignored her infraction and got busy moving ‘stuff’ around in the garage, something I do once in a while that looks like work, but actually isn’t. In this instance, however, I actually did some constructive rearranging, moving a pair of captain chairs, that Diane bought at a yard sale a couple of years ago, to get them into a location less annoying to me. They were destined for the ’79 Winnebago, but I actually like my seat so stalled her out. When we returned from vacation, those chairs were right smack in the path we use to get to the Yogurt Refrigerator in the garage. It’s imperative that we be able to get to that refrigerator in the morning, especially when it has yogurt in it.

While I was doing that, Jeff appeared out of nowhere to pick up those very same chairs. If I had waited just a bit longer, I wouldn’t have had to move them at all. Still, it was a good thing to see Jeff, as it is to see all relatives. In this case, if you don’t know, Jeff is our son. I helped him get the chairs to his van then offered to give him the Garage Organ, also. He accepted so, hopefully, that will go away soon. At this rate, in another couple of years, we might have the other side of the garage cleaned out to the point where I can actually park my car in there. Diane’s been using the garage since we moved in because it was a rule that I make that so, or she would make it necessary for me to employ a lawyer to talk over how to divide up the property. So, she can drive in and out at will. Sometimes that’s what she does on a rainy day. She’ll get in the car, back out into the driveway, sit there for a moment, then drive back into the garage. I don’t know why she does that. Kinda quirky.

She really does do that, but only when one of us forgets something. She didn’t do that today. She just drove off without her license. As soon as she was gone, I found her purse laying on the printer. Actually, it was one of the many purses she leaves lying around the house, but I know the one on the printer was the one she wanted because it had her wallet in it.

Jeff left with the chairs, then Diane showed up shortly thereafter with a Buick full of food because she took her Mom, Jean, to Safeway to restock the depleted larders. We don’t really have a larder, but we have empty shelves and drawers where food used to be. Now the Yogurt Refrigerator actually has yogurt in it. And, I have milk to drink. She bought me a couple of bagels, too. I love those things, but can’t eat too many of them because they make my pants too tight.

After unloading the Buick, Diane checked her cell phone messages and discovered she had missed a call from KayKay, Ozzie’s hair dresser. He gets a poodle-do about every 36 days, and he always needs it. When the yard is wet, he probably should have one a week because he’s so short that I can’t cut the grass low enough to keep it from hitting his belly. He’s a mess for most of those 36 days, but for the first few he looks great and actually smells good. So, off Diane went to get him back. He was wearing a cute little neckerchief with Jack-o-lanterns on it which I took off right away. He and I have talked about those things and he’s let me know he really doesn’t like them. But, KayKay always puts one on him.

Somewhere during the afternoon the guy from the Habitat For Humanity Restore Store showed up with his trailer to pick up our incredibly heavy dining room table and the couch Diane didn’t want any more. After those things went away, Diane strongly encouraged me to mow the yard. The grass was actually almost dry so I took the hint and fired up the lawn mower, pumped up the front tires, which always almost go flat in a couple of days, attached all the required parts for sucking up the cut grass, and got to work.

I went real slow, and only put the mower deck on 5 instead of 4, like normal. I’m not sure if those numbers relate to inches or not. For me, it’s just a ‘setting’ I use. Seems to be a good one, especially when the grass is dryer. I apparently went slow enough to keep the output tube from clogging up, because I didn’t have to stop one time. I just mowed merrily along, without a care in the world. Well, that’s not entirely true because I really do have cares. It’s just that I really like mowing the yard. Really odd, isn’t it?

When I was done I took the clippings down to the burn pile, around which I have a very nice arc of years worth of grass clippings. I’ve never turned it, ever. I just keep adding to it, and it just seems to sink into the ground. I’ve discovered that under all that grass is some really great dirt that Diane won’t use. She still insists on buying dirt at Wal*Mart for the things she puts in pots. I’ve given up on trying to convince her to use MY dirt. So, it’s just going to continue sinking into the ground, making more and more terrific dirt.

I drove around the back of the grass clipping arc, near our lower fence, and backed the mower up over a low spot. This makes it easier to dump the bags, of which I have three. When I empty them, I always rotate them so they all get equal time getting filled up. In a cavalier fashion, I flipped my seat up over the steering wheel, like I always do so the bagger lid will stay open, and walked around behind the mower. Then I dumped my bags.

On the third bag there appeared before me an angry herd of yellow jackets, the kind that live in the ground. I guess they discovered all that great dirt and decided to call it home and were just a little ticked when I dumped more grass on their entry. Blocking their doorway created a situation where those on the outside, who wanted back in, went into attack mode and started dive bombing me.

Bees have never bothered me much, especially when Diane is with me because they like her better. This time, however, I was the only target. The first indication I had that I was in peril was the critter stabbing the back of my right hand through my work glove. He was really digging in when I flicked him away with my left hand, so I thought I probably should vacate the area, which I did. But, the bees followed me all the way back to the house, which is about 150 feet from the burn pile. I thought they’d give up, but they didn’t, so I ran up the stairs to the kitchen door, opened it briefly to call for help.

Diane came right away, but she wouldn’t come out, and I don’t blame her. She’s very allergic to stings. Me? I’m impervious to them, I though. I just kept swatting them, and turning around so Diane could see if there were any bees still clinging to my clothes, which they weren’t because in a coordinated assault they targeted my uncovered neck where they stung me about 6-7 times. They also got my right arm 3-4 more times, in well-selected locations all the way up, and one of them got me on my right side, just below my armpit. I think one also gnawed through my jeans and got me on the toughest part of my knee. That one must have been a dare between two of he attackers, or perhaps some sort of initiation.

Once Diane confirmed that she didn’t see any more bees clinging to me, and I didn’t see any buzzing about, I shed my clothes right there on the porch and rushed into the house. Diane was thankful that I had forgotten that today is Underwear Optional Day. It’s something I started when I was working at PGE, but it never seemed to catch on. You know, kinda like casual Friday, but different?

So, that’s what I’ve been recovering from for the past number of hours. The sore places where I got my shots yesterday, and the bee stings today just kinda made my day a whole lot more interesting. If I had thought quick enough, since they were already biting me, maybe I could have convinced one of those bees to give me some cute, pouty lips. Instead, my right hand is about twice the size of the left, but the fingers still work, and the remainder of my right arm is a mess. I can’t see my neck, but my nerve endings are, even right now, making it abundantly clear that I have been seriously assaulted. It hurts, but I didn’t cry. I just made the “Sucking SSS” sound for a bit, then decided to just tough it out.

To help me, Diane cooked a really good steak, which we shared. I love steak.

After dinner we sat on our couch and watched some of the shows that recorded during our absence last week. Afterwards, Diane held my hand until it quit hurting. She’s good to me that way.

Now you know. Please don’t feel sorry for me, unless you really want to. I actually discovered those bees when I burned down the burn pile a couple of weeks ago. Then I forgot about them.

Silly me.

Home Sweet Home

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

OK – we’re back!

Got home last night after 2300, and actually made it to bed before midnight. The dogs seemed happy to see us which is good because we weren’t sure what kind of reception we’d get. Sometimes they can be down right mean when they want to be. Not mean in a physical way, but more mental, like ignoring you, or looking out the side of their face at you without actually turning their head in your direction. It’s very disconcerting when they do that. Ozzie does it best. But not last night. He was a happy little dog.

Perhaps he was most happy because when we got to LA, Diane texted Jennifer and asked her to please turn the heat back on in the house. It was off the entire time we were gone and I think Oz got chilly. Panzee? No way. She has fur to spare so she just doesn’t get cold. Ever. She doesn’t even get very wet when it rains. I think she may have duck feathers scattered in amongst the fur somewhere.

Sleeping in this morning wasn’t an option because I Diane forced me to go with her to the VA to get my flu and shingles shots – one in each arm. It’s been 7 hours since I got the shots and now my little skinny arms really hurt. Fortunately, I had the flu shot in my left arm because it hurts the worse than the shingles shot. The reason is because the flu shot had to be in the muscle, but shingles is subdural. That simply means the flu shot needle has to be, like, 3 inches long in order to get past the layer of fat on my arm, but the shingles was only about half an inch long. There actually isn’t a lot of fat on my upper arm, and there isn’t very much muscle either, so the nurse, Beauty is her name, had to go at an angle to ensure she could get the entire needle into my arm. Then she hit the plunger and pressed it as hard as she could. I could tell because she was gritting her teeth. It kinda makes you forget about the needle pain when the medicine squirts out of that tiny little needle hole into a space that’s just not big enough for the syringe contents. That’s why she had to grit her teeth, to get the medicine to rip into my muscle fibers.

For the singles shot Beauty grabbed a chunk of that flabby area on the back of my arm, where there isn’t any muscle, pinched it up to make a good target, then jammed that little short needle into my tender skin and forced the shingles killer stuff into my arm causing the same problem as with the other shot – not enough room for the syringe contents.

Now that it’s been a few hours, you’ll be happy to know that both arms hurt about the same since the shots. The “fortunate” part about getting the one that hurts the most in my left arm is that my right arm hurts all the time any way, so now they hurt about the same. It hurts to use either of them so there’s no immediate danger of favoring the right arm over the left. Maybe in a few days I can switch back to that routine.

Tonight I must facilitate our church council meeting, as I do every month. So, there is no resting this evening until I return around 2030. I might have to go a little early, with my propane torch, so I can seal up a leaky part above the narthex. As everyone knows, there’s absolutely nothing worse than a leak in your narthex. It’s very unsettling, and makes the carpet all wet unless you can get the buckets aligned just right. Since he leak is right smack in the middle of the doorway to the basement, getting around the drips becomes a challenge for those who wish to partake of after service snacks. And coffee. It’s a Lutheran church, so coffee is an absolute necessity. I say that, then must share that our Pastor does not drink coffee. Never has as far as I know. All the other Lutheran’s in the world, however, drink coffee. Just ask one of them.

I need to rest now because my arms hurt, and I’m hungry. I believe I’ll go smash a few eggs and make a sandwich. That’s one of the things we missed while in Mexico. I know, they have eggs down there, but we didn’t want to eat theirs and we didn’t think it would be a good idea to pack eggs in the food suitcase. Diane was really thinking when packing for the trip home because she knew we didn’t have any bread in the house, so she packed the few remaining pieces of the loaf of Bimbo bread we bought in Mexico. We’re not sure if we violated any immigration laws by importing bread from Mexico, but no one said anything. Hope they’re not reading this. If they are, I know a lawyer who may, or may not, be able to help extricate me from whatever jail into which “they” decide to incarcerate me.

Perhaps I should start a fund …

To end this, I’m including a couple of pictures from the trip. The first one was taken while we were waiting for the airport shuttle to arrive. The shuttle, by the way, was a very nice tour bus instead of a crampy little van like we had the day we arrived.

This next one is two of the 4 ‘greeters’ we met each morning when heading for the stairs or elevator. The rest of their families is scattered all over the place. They really aren’t a bother, but if you stop to look at them for very long, they come right up looking for something to eat.

Mazatlan – Day 8

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

OK – I know – I said I wasn’t going to bother you again until we returned home, but I just couldn’t help myself. So, I’m back.

After eating lunch yesterday, we mosied back to our room, sat on the couch to rest a bit, and contemplate another trip to the pool, but the Denver vs. Dallas football game caught our attention because the score was 41-41 and held the promise of being fairly interesting. It was. Dallas drove for a touch down making it 48-41, then Denver turned around and did the same thing. It was 48-48. Denver kicked off, Dallas got intercepted, and Denver ran the clock down before kicking the winning field goal … 51-48. Looks like a Duck football score instead of a pro score. Now you’re up-to-date and know everything I know about that game, unless you watched the entire game in which case I’m sure you couldn’t care less about that info. Unless you’re a Dallas fan. Which I’m not.

When the game was over we hadn’t determined if we were going to the pool, or not, so just sat there a while longer … and both fell asleep. We remained in this state for an entire hour before one of us woke up and jiggled the couch.

By then it was after 5 pm and we decided to play some cribbage instead of go back to the pool. It was a bit rowdy down there, and I didn’t see Jim and Lourdes, so we were OK staying in. Cribbage was good. Diane whipped my ass. Twice. That made us 4 and 4, a good place to stop, even steven.

Then Diane broke out the 99 cent set of dominos she got at Good Will some time ago, and we discovered why it was donated after I won two rounds, lickity split, without having to draw from the pile. Diane cried ‘foul’ because during the last round she drew two double fours which would be OK if we had twice as many dominos as she brought. After a bit of investigation we determined that someone must have had a double set and just grabbed enough to fill a one-set box. So, I won two rounds, and we’ll never use those dominos again so I’m going home a winner!

During the Denver vs. Dallas game we discovered that we’re both a little punchy, like we’ve been up for a number of days. As we watched the game we played like announcers, ad-libbing what we thought the person of interest on camera, at any given moment, might be saying. It was funny and a vivid demonstration that we are ready to go home. Like, yesterday.

But, today is the day we leave.

I have to admit that I’m writing this Sunday night, so it really isn’t Day 8 yet, but I’m not sending this until tomorrow morning, so it should count.

Now I’m going to stop and finish watching the SF 49ers beat Houston. This will make Jeannie E. happy. Maybe some other folks, too.

I may add a little more to this tomorrow to let you know how well I sleep tonight. Probably not well because for supper I had a bag of imported microwave kettle corn, a Mexican Snickers candy bar, and two bags of gummy monsters. And a glass of water. Diane wasn’t pleased with my choices and I don’t blame her. I made terrible choices but it was all about eating this ‘stuff’ so we wouldn’t have to pack it and cart it back to Oregon. I mean, what’s the point?

Another factoid about this trip, and a testament to my ongoing efforts to save the environment, is that of the 8 pair of underwear I packed, I still have 4 clean ones. This means that I’ve gone four days without underwear. This will please Diane for two reasons: 1) less to wash upon arriving home, and 2) more clothes to wrap delicate things in for the trip.

Since that last period (.) a lot has happened. It’s now about 10 minutes to 6 pm and we are in LA waiting for our flight to Portland. We arrived here at 4:20, and it’s taken this long to make the incredibly long transit from out arrival gate, 69, through customs, retrieve the bag we checked in Mexico, re-check it for PDX, re-enter the secure, and go back to gate 67. All of that took 1 hour and 30 minutes. We walked down 4 or 5 amazingly long passageways during this process that took us full circle back to within 20 feet of where we started at 4:20. Now we must wait until 7:10 to board the last leg of this journey.

Prior to leaving Mazatlan, we had a bite to eat at the airport and visited with our new friends Jim and Lourdes. It’s always good to make new friends.

We’re tired and glad to almost be home.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Oh, by the way, the ‘food’ suitcase only weighed 46 lbs this time since it was only full of dirty clothes. Interesting that dirty clothes weigh almost as much as enough food to sustain two people for a week.

Mazatlan – Day 7

Posted on October 6, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Here it is, our last day in this paradise. Tomorrow at noon the shuttle will extract us from this place and deposit us at the airport for our flight home. It’s always such a surprise how time speeds up as the end of something pleasant nears. It’s kind of like a tether ball that winds round and round the pole, faster and faster as the tether gets shorter. All the sudden, BOOM, it stops, and you bang your head against the pole because you forgot it was there.

Then it unwinds the other direction and, as the tether gets longer, we get lulled into a false sense of security. Then it speeds up, again, spinning faster and faster until you hit the other side of your head. It’s a never ending cycle of winding and unwinding, over and over … it is my understanding that sane people have really tall poles and exceptionally long tethers so the trip is more leisurely and less traumatic at the end.

With help, and the right kind of medicinal know how, we can control, to some extent, how high our pole goes, and how long the tether is. I was thinking of getting a T-shirt made with the words “How tall is your pole?”, or “How long is your tether?”, or “How long is your pole?”, or “How tall is your tether?” I haven’t talked with Diane about that, yet, but I already know that she doesn’t like that plan. So, I won’t do it. We could, however, vote on our favorites.

Most of the time I have a short tether on a short pole making life a little jittery and quite exciting. Caffeine intensifies the experience.

In truth, my vacation ended yesterday when I ran out of imported coffee creamer. This morning I concocted a concoction of lactose free milk mixed with both white and brown sugar. It’s kind of weird, but will have to do. At least it’s the right khaki color. That’s really the most important part, you know. Taste is secondary.

While at the deli yesterday afternoon, purchasing our yoghurt con frutas y cereales for this morning’s breakfast, another guest noticed my Oregon hat and asked if I wanted to know what the half time score was to the Oregon vs. Colorado game. I said sure, then he made me guess. I said 42-3, Oregon. It was really 42-12, Oregon. I thought that was a pretty good guess. The Ducks won 57-16, so their roll continues. I don’t know how the Beavers did, or even if they played. The Beavers, for those of you unfamiliar with college football in Oregon, is the Oregon State team. The Ducks belong to the University of Oregon. The guest who told me the score went to UCLA, but he considered me an ally since we’re both Pac-12 fans.

Diane’s got the makings of a cold this morning. She’s hacking and coughing, mostly because the contents of her head are draining into her lungs. That’s not a good thing to happen. What doesn’t help is when she reads a lot because she gets emotionally wrapped up in the characters, sharing their victories and defeats, crying and laughing as the plot unwinds. She shares these moments with me and makes it necessary that I put these books on my “To Read” list, even though they are Nora Roberts novels. That’s not a bad thing … I enjoy Nora once in a while because they are just fun to read. Right now I’m reading the “The Complete Sherlock Holmes” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Robert Ryan. It’s 3768 pages long in portrait mode, and 6727 long in landscape mode. I’m 1191 pages into it in landscape mode, and 664 in portrait mode. It’s wearing me out. I just finished “The Hound of the Baskervilles”.

It’s much later, now, 1409 to be exact. We went out on the beach at 1030, and stayed there picking up shells, wandering around, and getting more than our share of sun to the point where it began to hurt. We (I) took a colander from the kitchen utensils so we (I) could sift the sand from the shells and beach glass. It worked pretty well and I’m sure management won’t mind that a little used thing like that was put to such good use.

When the heat really started getting to us, we made our way back to our assigned lounge chairs, on which we left out towels, then took a dip in the pool to cool off. It was awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that they use a saline solution in the pools instead of caustic chemicals like bromide or chlorine. Consequently, it’s got a little salty flavor to it which I believe is intentional to cover up the fact that most people pee in the pools, even the adult pool. Maybe more to the point, “Especially” the adult pool, because it’s got a swim up bar and I’ve watched a lot of people spend an entire afternoon sitting on one of those submerged bar stools, slugging down one kind of drink or another, and never leave their seat. You’ll never convince me that there’s no way all of those folks could sit there for that long and not have to pee. Couple that with the fact that the pool water is always a bit warmer near the bar, and I believe my case is made. People pee in pools, and it’s OK because down here it doesn’t alter the chemical flavor of the water. This brings up the question about how does, like, everyone in the world, know that urine is salty? The answer, of course, is that at some point in our lives we found it necessary to taste it.

At this very point in time, we’re sitting at a table in the deli, eating our ham and swiss sandwiches, that was heated up like a panini. Here’s a picture of Diane eating here. She doesn’t know I took the picture, so I’m going to be in trouble for sure. But, that’s nothing new.

This is our big meal of the day, and only the second real meal we’ve had down here. The other one was at the restaurant in town. We actually talked about taking the shuttle back down there for another meal, but vetoed it because of the hour we’d have to spend in the shuttle. So, we opted for the deli. The other choices were two restaurants at opposing ends of the compound, one near us and the other far, far away. Too far to walk in this heat. That, plus the deli has wi-fi, a necessary piece of technology that we find to be an important aspect of our lives.

We’ve heard from sources in Western Idaho that Maryssa has signed a letter of intent to play softball on scholarship at Eastern Oregon University in La Grande, Oregon. We’re happy for her, and proud of her, whoever she is. We think it’s someone Steffani and Bob know. Maybe Jim and Donna, and probably Jeff, Heather, Jennifer, Daniel, Cedric, Lydia, Jeran, Gilligan, Baylee, Jack, and Wynette, too.

Here’s one you’ll like … on the way back from the beach, we passed one of the many waterfall fed coy pools around the property, but this one had a sign that read “Please do not feed the fish tank”. I found that amusing. Feed the fish tank. They should have other signs all over the place telling people to “Don’t feed the iguanas”. Those guys are all over the place. A small herd of them hang out on the balcony near our room which bothers Diane a bit. It’s got to be hard to be an iguana because they are some homely beasts. I demonstrated to Diane that, in spite of their appearance, they are timid and will not attack unless provoked. Thankfully, we were just outside our room and Diane had the foresight to bring bandages, so I didn’t lose too much blood. I suspect the maids will be a little miffed about the mess on the floor near the elevator, though.

Time to stop, and reflect. Tomorrow we check out and fly back home so I don’t suspect I will be adding to this until we get there. You’ll all just have to wait, on pins and needles, if you wish, to find out how this ends …

Mazatlan – Day 6

Posted on October 5, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I should have mentioned yesterday that after Linda’s surgery on Wednesday, she recognized Tom right away. There was a danger that she wouldn’t. We’re very happy for her and know that Tom is, too. I’m sure there are some days where she would be OK not admitting Tom is hers, but recognizing him is good.

So, “what’s that all about?” you ask, and rightly so because this surgery had nothing to do with Linda’s head, but her liver. Both Tom and Linda explained how the surgery could possibly cause memory loss, and it made a bit of sense at the time. However, the complicated nature of the surgery and possible side affects were well outside the scope of my understanding so the explanation never made it into long term memory. I was able to keep it long enough to nod once in a while, indicating that I understood, when in fact I didn’t. My main concern focused on the effect on these two lovely people, not the cause. So, as did they, we put our trust into the hands of God and prayed that he would guide the surgeon’s hand. A lot of people were doing that, and it worked. So, there’s something for the heathen’s amongst us to think about.

Last night, before retiring, Diane was feely frisky so challenged me to a game of cribbage, which I won. She then challenged me again, and I won that one, too. We played a third game which she won handily, ending the need for challenges. Throughout the games we laughed like little kids in a manner we haven’t enjoyed in years. It was fun, something we don’t seem to have time for at home and it makes us wonder why. We don’t really have to go all the way to Mexico to recapture that part of ourselves. No sir. We could do that by just going to, say, Fort Stevens, or even the county park by the Scappoose airport. Or maybe we could just go out in the driveway and sit in one of the old Winnebagos and play cards there. I think the point my brain is trying to make is that we don’t have to leave home, really, to experience the fun times. It’s simply that ‘Home’ seems to have replaced the term ‘Work’ in our vocabulary, and work isn’t legally a place to have fun. So we don’t.

I’m going to change that upon our return home. I’m going to have fun every day, whether or not Diane gives me permission to do so. I’ll have fun chipping paint, removing paint from bricks that was placed there by the previous owners who weren’t too concerned about being sloppy. I’ll have fun mowing the grass … no, I do that already … I’ll have fun cutting down more blackberry vines, ripping out bushes that grow in places I don’t want them to grow, painting walls that have never been painted before, finishing Diane’s laundry room, adding fake walls to cover things we don’t want to see, refinishing the wood work around the remaining 12 windows in the house (I’ve already done 4 of them) … gotta stop this, now. My head is starting to hurt and Mexico is looking a lot better with each word …

The birds are back this morning … the gaviotas. There are also a few vultures here and there that soar over us, looking for something dead to clean up. One of the warnings given to us, which I failed to mention, is that at every public place, someone must keep guard and warn if a vulture is coming near. If so, the guard warns everyone so they can start moving around to make sure the vultures know there’s nothing there for them, and they sail away. For some folks, the vultures serve as timers, because they come around on a rigid schedule, causing people to at least turn over so they can crisp up their other tender areas in the hot sun. Kinda like turning a marshmellow at just the right speed over a bed of coals so it turns toasty brown and instead of catching on fire.

Now it’s time to venture outside and take a walk on the beach.

The walk is over and it’s 1450. The sun is hot, but seems to be more tolerable each day. We may move here.

I’m saddened by the fact that I will be unable to watch the Ducks game this afternoon because the sports channels we’ve found are all soccer related. Not actually ‘related’, but specifically soccer, the only true football according to Lydia’s soccer coach. No, to him soccer is the only ‘real’ sport. Lydia found that out when he asked her what position she played and she told him pitcher and 2nd base. Obviously not soccer.

Back to the Ducks – I’ll be doing some searching in a little while to see if I can remedy the problem. I’ve GOT to see that game! My entire vacation will be absolutely ruined if I can’t. Maybe I’ll be able to watch it live on ESPN via the internet. They won’t mind if I spend a few hours in the deli to do that, I’m sure. Might even buy something this time.

Diane’s been poisening me with lactose free leche the entire time we’ve been here. I thought there was something different about how it felt on my tongue, but didn’t question it until I had to go buy some more because we drank what we had. I’m sure I’ll survive, but I feel deceived.

It is now 1717 and we have spent the past 3 hours sitting at a table outside the deli talking with an ex-pat from Ohio who lives on the north shore of Lake Chapala which is south of Guadalhara. Though we heard her entire life story, there’s no way I could remember enough to make it worth sharing. Oh, Carolina’s son, Brian, went to nuclear power school in the Navy, spent six years on active duty, then went to Texas A&M to be a mechanical engineer, joined the Air Force, and is currently the physical ed teacher at the Air Force academy in Colorado Springs. Oh, and her Dad grew up in Western Nebraska, same as mine. Go figure. Another one of those small world ‘things’.

We ate our chili for lunch today so we’re technically out of hot food. We still have bread, peanut butter, and jelly, so we won’t starve, in case you’re concerned. I suggested that we could have toasted PB&J’s for a change, which I’ve had before and found to be quite good. I love crunchy things.

Not much else left for today. Talking with Carol all that time kinda wore me out, and changed the direction of my thought patterns, which happens to me all the time so that shouldn’t be a problem.

Here’s Diane checking her email and Facebook ‘stuff’.

Linda sent good news that she’s home and doing well. Her memory is fine so far and she can’t even forget some of the things, and people, who she would like to forget. So, there was a downside to the operation, after all. Seriously, we’re so happy she’s doing OK. Now that she’s back home Tom won’t have to cook any more.

Mazatlan – Day 5

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The TVs provided for our use are rather small for the size of the room. They are flat panel units with little tinny speakers and they are enclosed in a unit that makes the sound echo a bit. So, for old ears, it’s a challenge. Last night, while we were watching “Elementary”, Diane asked, “Do you think the sound is bad because the picture is smaller?” I couldn’t immediately answer because that thought was running around in my head and it made sense, causing me concern. Then I committed a grave error, and laughed, because it was funny. Thankfully, she laughed, too, so it was OK. Forever more I will equate sound quality to the size of the picture.

This morning Jack woke me up by arguing with me about how to take apart some kind of apparatus we needed to take apart for some obscure reason. He had a hammer and attempted to take a swing at it to do the job, but I was able to stop him by turning the apparatus over to show him the bolt I had inserted so the halves of it wouldn’t fall apart. Then he tried to swing the hammer at the bolt. All this time he was being semi-restrained by two people I’ve never seen before, but not restrained enough to keep him from being pretty scary with the hammer. When stopped from hitting the bolt with the hammer, he got out a very sharp knife with the intent of using it to separate the halves. It was obvious that he was intent on completing the job, but I disagreed with his methods, which is unusual because it is I who normally relies on Jack to provide the necessary methods for getting pretty much anything done.

When he came up with the knife I’m afraid I yelled at him and said some pretty terrible things because it woke me up and cause Diane enough concern that she extricated herself from my vicinity to the relative safety of the living room. I as aware of her departure, though I was not completely awake, then I lay there for another 10-15 minutes in a twilight kind of sleep trying to reconcile what had just happened. Unable to do that, I finally got up and crept into the living room, sneaking up behind Diane, who knew I was there the entire time. And, she wasn’t mad at me. So, the day begins on a positive not after all. It was 0742.

Diane had a couple of the windows open to let the fresh air in because the is very little humidity this morning. I opened the other five and we are enjoying the sound of waves crashing violently on the beach. The tide is obviously high because the water is rolling all the way up to the grass berm which is about six feet above the water level. We’re located on a very wide cove and the waves start rolling in at an angle, on the southern end, where we are, and continue north, sweeping up the steep beach at a very fast pace toward the resorts north of us. I suspect we can see about 4-5 miles of beach from our windows, so it’s quite a show. Very peaceful, and serene.

This early in the morning is the time maintenance crews get busy with pool cleaning and ensuring chemical levels are correct. One of the young men who do this carries bottles of “something” in the cargo pockets of his shorts and they make a distinct clanking sound as he walks. Diane has dubbed him the ‘man with the noisy pants.’ It’s a good description. You always know when he’s around.

Yesterday afternoon Diane and I went to the deli, for their free wi-fi, so I could submit my entry to the world, and check our respective email accounts. I worked very hard to add some pictures for your viewing enjoyment, then published the entry, and it just disappeared. It appeared that I was going to have to recreate the entire narrative, a depressing prospect since I cannot recreate anything like that. It would be totally different, I know it would. Thankfully, however, I worried about it long enough for Diane’s email to refresh and there it was in her email, nice and complete. That was a relief for sure.

Then Diane headed off to the adult pool while there was still a little daylight remaining. I stayed a bit longer to check my email, and to see if the government had figured out some way of stopping my pay check. They hadn’t so I closed up and followed after a short time.

As I was going down to the infinity pool, I noticed a few birds floating on the incoming sea breeze, and my gaze was drawn higher, and higher, to an entire herd composed of hundreds of birds. No one in the vicinity knew what kind they were, but the way they soared reminded me of hawks and eagles. They obviously weren’t hawks or eagles, but they flew like them, rising on the currents, then circling around behind he pack, and working back to the front, always floating on the air a few hundred feet up, facing the setting sun. Looking at them made me think they were gathered, and circling, waiting for something to die so they could rush in a devour it. Or, perhaps they were just gathered, as were we land based humans, to watch another ho-hum Mexican Riviera Sunset.

After joining Diane in the adult pool, where she was the only occupant until my arrival, we watched the birds for a long time. They are fascinating to watch. Finally, another couple came to the pool and I asked if they knew what kind of birds they were. Turns out the ‘new’ folks are natives and very friendly. The gentleman explained that they call the birds scissor gaviotas. I’m pretty sure that’s the term he used. The scissor part refers to their tail which just out like a pair of open scissors and they can move them in a scissors fashion to control parts of their flight. Turns out they are related to seagulls in some way, but they are black. We were told there are also white gaviotas, too.

We watched a bit of news before retiring, to see if members of congress have decided to start making smart choices instead of promoting their own agendas. We saw the bit about the Connecticut lady who tried to ram the White House barrier, then sped away and was finally caught and shot, though she didn’t have a weapon. Interesting, and sad. Then there was a clip of Representative “Nuem-somethingorother” who was berating a park ranger about not letting people into one of the national parks which had been closed because THE GOVERNMENT IS SHUT DOWN, YOU DOLT! He was telling her she should be ashamed to be a park ranger for not letting people in. This guy is obviously an idiot and it concerns me that our government seems to be made up of more people like that than is healthy for us. Scary, huh?

Now it’s 0915 and time to get busy with another relaxing day. Diane wants to go to the deli to get a $7 loaf of bread so we can have toast tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday, as well as another imported tuna sandwich, and perhaps an imported PB&J, somewhere along the way. I think when we get home next week we’re going to have a hard time getting back into the habit of eating a hot meal once in a while. We feel really good just nibbling our way through the day.

Before I forget, Diane discovered another thing that makes this resort really special. How many places have you stayed in your life where they include a bra dryer? Not many, I’ll bet. Well, we have one here …

I suspect all the other rooms have them, too. Pretty cool, huh?

You’ve probably already figured out that I’m going to be in deep dark trouble for that one, but just couldn’t pass it up.

We’re currently sitting in the deli, plugged in, checking email, etc. We have our home phone through Comcast so were able to listen to all of our voice mails, too. Just can’t (won’t) respond to them until we get home. Someone else just left a message while I was sitting here. Isn’t technology wonderful?

Time to get some lunch, now. Eating a real meal yesterday kinda ruined us, making us feel like it’s actually necessary to eat larger amounts more often. So, guess we’ll go see what’s cooking at the Sunset Grill.

Mazatlan – Day 4

Posted on October 3, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

This morning I was up at 0622, the first time, then again at 0845, to stay. Early, for me. Diane, of course, was up already, at my second arising, but not long enough to have made coffee. So, I had to wait. While doing that, we had a nutritious breakfast of imported cereal. And toast.

Then we went to the concierge and got shuttle tickets for a trip into town to look around a bit, spend all our money at the main shopping plaza, and meet new friends. The shuttle stops at the Pueblo Bonito Mazatlan hotel and it’s a fair hop from there to town, so we engaged a pulminaria (sp) taxi, piloted by Sergio, for $8 to get us there. It was a cheap ride, but not as cheap as the bus. We had a guided tour, though, so it was worth it. Sergio was very engaging, and full of knowledge, being a native Mazatlanian.

Walking the streets near the local resorts makes people like us targets for the hawkers, trying to get people to go view ‘their’ resort for their 90 minutes presentation. In addition, they will give you $300 which, I have no doubt, would be in the form of a discount should you agree to buy from them. These people drive by in cars and jump out when they see a target, and begin a serious hard sell that’s hard to get away from. Persistent “No Thank You’s” fall on deaf ears. One of the more congenial ‘vendors’, who had a table set up on the sidewalk, said when we walk out of a resort like that, it’s as if we have “… dollars signs hanging all over us.”

A pulminaria, a word Sergio taught us, but I’m not sure how to spell, is a VW chassis covered with a fiberglas body that’s open all the way around. Very breezy, which was perfect. He took us the entire 4-5 miles around the crescent shaped bay on which Mazatlan resides. If one is ambitious, one could walk the entire distance on the very broad cement walkway that keeps the beach next to the ocean. Very picturesque. There are a multitude of bronze statues along the way, but my favorite is a full size bronze rendition of the taxi in which we were riding, a pulminaria. I’m sure it was just painted bronze, but the effect was nice, and unexpected. Fun art.

We contracted with Sergio for a ride back to the shuttle stop at 1330 which gave us about 1.5 hours to shop around. The market place is a very busy place not only for tourists, but also for locals. You can get pretty much anything you want there. Mainly, for the tourists, it’s all about trinkets, and clothes. Diane bought a couple of dresses, and I bought her a beaded bracelet that caught my eye. We also bought a coupl bottles of water to lake our thirst. While in the market, we encountered Lourdes and Jim, the couple we originally thought were from Forrest Hills, but are, in fact, from Roseville. Not that far away, but close. So, sadly, my the entry in which I related this information was a lie, and I apologize. That does not mean I won’t lie again, today or in the future, but it means I’m sorry for that one error.

We spent the last 15 minutes of our downtown time in the Mazatland cathedral, a very nice way to end out trip to this very friendly city. Sergio showed up exactly on time, and took us back to the ‘other’ Pueblo Bonito where we had a terrific, over-priced lunch. I was very enjoyable, in an over-priced manner. Did I mention it was a bit over-priced? But, it was really delicious and a nice break from the imported food we’ve been eating.

Now we’re back in our room for a cool-down period prior to heading out to the pool area to rehydrate.

Beyond that, our day is pretty much done, and it’s only 1700. Go figure.

Here’s a shot of our small living room/kitchen area with Diane resting & reading. There’s a huge, very heavy coffee table that goes in front of the couch but the chairs are more comfortable for propping up one’s feet.

This was taken from in front of the couch looking the other direction. Very spacious.

These are some of the pet birds that live in their very own area of the resort. There are big pink ones, and much smaller white ones. I’m guess the white ones are very young and just haven’t had the chance to eat enough shrimp to turn pink, yet.

Mazatlan – Day 3

Posted on October 2, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I rained immensely this morning, according to Diane. When I got up, however, there was absolutely no evidence of nearby clouds, or wet grounds, to support her claim so it’s possible she just take a page from my ‘book’ and made it up. She does have a little wiggle room for validity, however, because she was up almost four hours before me. I didn’t get up until almost 1000, or 0900 Oregon time, when I normally arise from my morning nap. Seems that my night of sleep just carried over into my nap time since I didn’t have to get up and let the dogs out.

This new info gives me reason to believe that I should teach the dogs how to unlock the back door so they can let themselves out each morning instead of waking me up. Doing that, of course, would require psychological intervention for Ozzie who would be able to participate because he won’t jump off the bed. I guess I’ll just table that thought for now. By the time we get home it will be a lost memory and won’t be an issue.

After getting up, and having a very expensive breakfast of simple toast, coffee, and cereal, we donned our swim wear, under which we are naked, and trekked to the pool next to our building and spent a delightful two hours laying in the shade, floating in the pool, and visiting with other guests. Specifically, we talked with Claire & Meredith who are from Houston but have a marked British accent. We met them yesterday at the pool and learned that Claire, at least, is definitely a British native who has lived in Houston for the past 8 years. It would have been excellent if her British accent also had a Texas drawl, don’t you think. We actually touched on that subject yesterday, but I left that alone today. Also at the pool were Mike, retired Navy, and his wife, who gave me her name but apparently took it back because I can’t remember it. Neither can Diane.

Around 1300 or so, all of our strenuous morning activity made it apparent that the depleted energy received from our meager breakfast was in need of replacement. As a result, we are currently sitting at our little round table, that has ample room for four, which I pushed close to the wall so Diane could read her iPad, while plugged in, as he ate her imported dead chicken and noodle soup, imported Ritz crackers on to which she smeared her imported creamy Skippy peanut butter. Beverage of choice for the meal is Mexican water filtered through the imported filter. Desert is an imported scrumpcious Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treat. In all, I value the lunch at about $32.18, including tax.

After we’re through eating we’re going to go walk on the beach and send you all mental waves of pleasure that we will receive from the sun’s warmth, and the fine warm sand through which we will walk. Every once in a while I’ll dip my toe into the icy waters of the ocean to … oh wait! The ocean here isn’t icy at all. It’s quite pleasant, actually. So, dipping my toe may go totally unnoticed by those of you who monitor my ‘pleasure wave’ transmissions.

Before I forget, we spoke with a gentleman at the pool yesterday who originally claimed to be from Sacramento but, he buckled while being questioned and admitted that he was really from Forresthill, California and his name is Jim. Diane and I looked at each other thinking, “that sounds oddly familiar,” but couldn’t quite put our finger on it. It was as if we actually had friends who lived there that prompted the feeling of familiarity. As we talked, however, we determined that it wasn’t associated with friends at all. We have relatives who live in that vicinity. We have so many of those, however, that it’s really difficult to keep track of all their names. I’m sure it will come to us eventually. Probably between bites during dinner.

The will now be an intermission, though you won’t know it other than the fact I’m related the info to you, as I read a bit of my book, and then take that walk on the beach.

Duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuh …. duh duh duh duh duut, ta duhduhduhduh, duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuh … duut, ta duh duh duh duh duh, duh, duh. Now, where have you heard that song?

It’s almost 8 pm, and a great deal has transpired in my absence.

First, we took that walk on the beach that I mentioned earlier. We walked up the beach first. Going “up” means the ocean is on your left. That’s always true when you’re on the west coast of any country. If you are on the east coast of any country, up is with the ocean on your right. This is always true, I don’t care where you’re from.

So, up the beach we walked, perhaps half a mile. At this point I thought I would be clever and insert a photo of the beach that we walked up as viewed from our window. But, in all my cleverness to segregate Diane’s and my Apple IDs I am unable to access pictures taken with her iPhone. Oh, well. Perhaps I’ll figure it out later and just add them at the end like I did yesterday.

The beach is not very wide and it slopes sharply into the sea, totally unlike Oregon beaches which spread for 1/4 mile, at times, from water to the dunes. OK, maybe not a 1/4 of a mile, but at least 100 yards or so. They are really wide, with a very gentle slope. When walking on the beach, say at Seaside, one has the feeling of being on relatively level ground. Here, however, the slope is great enough that one tends to swivel toward the water with each step, no matter which way one’s going, up or down the beach. It didn’t matter, really, because the water is as reporter, just like bath water. Incredibly warm. We just got our feet wet.

When walking on the beach we always keep an eye out for ‘special’ rocks and shells. When one catches our eye we snag it and put it in a pocket. Sometimes we even wash the sand off, first. Today Diane was looking for beach glass. Actually, that’s just remnants of beer bottles someone threw into the rocks at some point in time, smashing it into smithereens, and with time in the sand the sharp edges are worn smooth. We found quite a bit of it. In case you’re into this, my theory is that green glass is Heineken, brown glass is Budweiser, and clear glass is Miller. There are other colors, of course, but the three mentioned are the majority of what you’ll find.

The first shell we found was a nice little cowry shell, and it’s the only one we saw the entire time on the beach.

When we turned around, we walked down the beach to the extreme end of the Pueblo Bonito property, and a little beyond. It was very relaxing, and I picked up a discarded plastic cup into which I began stuff little pieces of debris that doesn’t belong on a beach. Like plastic and more cups. It’s just something we do when walking on the beach. I guess it’s our Oregon training from many beach cleanups we’ve participated in over the years. It’s gratifying.

Instead of walking back up the beach to the point where we gained access to the beach, we went up the first staircase we found at the south end of the resort. When we got to the top, we discovered another swimming pool about which we previously knew nothing. It’s beautiful and is right by one of the restaurants about which we also knew nothing. Funny thing. There is resort staff all over the place in this area, but absolutely no guests. They really wanted us to go on in and eat something, but we weren’t hungry at the time. It looked like a great place to visit before leaving here, though.

We wandered back toward our building, #1, beginning at building #24. It was a rather long walk, and it tuckered Diane out a little to the point where she was sad that she turned down a ride in a golf cart limo, offered by one of the staff who cruises around looking for people who look like they need help. I have no doubt he was sent our way because they were watching us on security cameras and wondered how we got where we were without showing up on a camera going there in the first place. Good security.

We finally got back to the room where we both plopped down on the sofa and took large breaths of cool air. After a bit of channel checking, I discovered HBO on which was playing “The Hunger Games”, a movie I’ve been wanting to see by have never had the opportunity. Diane wanted to go to the pool and read her book some more and told me to stay and watch it, so I did. First, however, we each had half a PB&J sandwich and a small glass of milk. When Diane left, I made popcorn and ate the entire bag. That’s OK because she doesn’t eat popcorn. I’m no in trouble.

She took a shower and didn’t want to come down to the deli with me to check “things”, so she sent me off all by myself, hoping I will be able to find my way back to the room. We’ll see how that works out.

Mazatlan – Day 2

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

It’s a good day to be vertical and breathing. The nasty humidity from yesterday afternoon is gone for the moment, but that could be because we’re lounging in the adult pool, our favorite place. This is what it looks like from where I’m sitting on the top step.

Diane is sitting on another area around the corner from me reading a book on her iPad. Very relaxing.

Last night, Diane was watching a Spanish weather report and learned that tropical storm Manual is in the vicinity and supposedly heading our direction. Looking around, I don’t see even one cloud in the sky, so it doesn’t look promising for anything bad to happen any time soon. But, it’s only 1050 in the morning and there’s a lot daylight remaining. Just a light breeze ruffling the palm trees and rippling the water a little.

The pool water is about 2 degrees lower than my body heat and feels awesome. Diane’s floating around now and said that this is the best part about being here – we have the pool to ourselves so we can pretend it’s in our back yard. Best part for me is that someone else maintains it. I don’t like that part. It actually sucks, like a large vacuum cleaner.

We’re going to lolly gag here in the pool until 1330 when we will attend our free lunch with a high pressure saleswo/man. That wasn’t a mistake there. I just decided that my abbreviation for “woman or man” is “wo/man”. Saves time. Anyway, lunch is free, a good thing, and it will be great. And, we’ve learned, over the years, to not be swayed by the continuous pressure applied by the salesperson.

Diane was really bummed this morning because she couldn’t find the cereal she bought for the trip. It was a bundle of those little packages of individual servings. I was sure I replaced it in the food suitcase when I rearranged everything, but must have left it laying on Jeran’s bed. Either that, or the TSA agent in Portland took it when he inspected the case. We know he inspected it because he left a note. Really, he did. I know it was a “he” because a woman would never have done that to a person. Take their cereal? That just isn’t right. So, we are cerealess for the duration of the stay. This morning we had yogurt, coffee, and toast. The coffee and grinder made it through customs just fine. Did I already mention that?

Time for a break. I’m going to go floating, now.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

OK. Done floating, had lunch, then went for a massage. Both of us. At the same time, but in different rooms. Naked. Diane’s massager was Claudia, mine was Lydia. I just had a deep tissue on my upper back and neck. When she pushed across in the area of my shoulder blades I’m sure it must have felt like rocks to her. Sure did to me. And it hurt. A lot. But I barely whimpered, and let her work on them. Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll have bruises, but that’s OK.

Now we’re just hanging out in our room because we’re both pretty mellowed-out from activity. We’re sitting in our living room, with all the windows, and the front door open, so the ocean breeze is blowing right through the place. Very peaceful. Everyone will have to come with us next year. You’ll need a passport.

Did I mention they have pink flamingos hanging out here? The do. They don’t do much. Just stand around and look pretty. They were much more fun as croquet mallets in “Alice in Wonderland”.

Now we have an incredibly huge decision to make because it’s getting on toward supper time for us. Yes, we ate lunch only 4.5 hours ago, but it was just a cheeseburger and fries. It was good, but not as good as a Burgerville Tillamook Cheeseburger. No sir! Those are the absolute best when it comes to cheeseburgers.

Last night on the news, shortly before we went to bed, the government was on the verge of shutting down so we quit watching. Since we’ve neither seen nor heard any news today, we do not know what happened. Could be we might just have to stay here a while until they government gets opened back up. Perhaps one of you will let us know if the borders are open later in the week. Say, Saturday.

Supper is over and, based on the cost of room service for our cheeseburger lunch ($17.80 including tax), I decided to put some arbitrary prices on the dinner we had …
2 Handmade sandwiches created from imported tuna, mayo, relish, and onion powder – $47.50
2 Large glasses of milk from an unaware Spanish speaking cow – $6.00
2 Imported fruit cups (pear for Diane, peach for me) – $8.50
4 Imported Rice Krispy Treats – $8.00
2 Cups of coffee made from imported coffee beans, ground to powder on an imported coffee grinder – $5.00

Using my old high school math, that comes to about $75.00 for both meals. Actually, it works out exactly to $75.00, as I’m sure you already know. Considering that buying the all inclusive option for this resort ($76/day per person for the 7 day stay, but you only have to pay for 5 of the seven because two of them are arrival/departure days which works out to about $55/day/person) we made the correct choice. For us.

However … the all inclusive includes all drinks, too, so for those who enjoying embibing to excess, it’s a deal maker for them. Neither Diane nor I are known for our drinking prowess, so doing that just didn’t make sense. We drink water, mainly, and we obtain it from our imported Britta filter pitcher, which was filled with all manner of cosmetics in the food suitcase. Water at the resort is reportedly filtered, and I’ve experienced no problem from past visits, but why take a chance, right?

I broke down, while Diane was whipping up those incredibly expensive sandwiches, and turned on the TV to watch CNN so I could find out how the government is doing. Looks to me like it’s going down the drain. I mean, 800,000 federal workers furloughed BUT the idiots who caused the problem continue to get paid? That’s fair, don’t you think? I believe it’s 800,000. The number just kinda flashed by on the screen, but I’m sure it’s a big number. After listening to both sides plead their case, it all turned to white noise for me, and annoyed Diane to distraction. So, I turned it off and we sat by the open windows and enjoyed another incredible sunset while we ate an expensive dinner. We read our books while eating, stealing random glances out the windows as the scene changed, and the sun finally made it’s swan dive into the ocean.

It’s now almost 2000. In a bit, we’re heading down to capture a little of the free wi-fi at the Deli and get this sent off to the ozone. I’ll even try to add pictures, too.

Hope you all had a wonderful day.

This was from yesterday, looking over the infinity pool …

This is a picture of the adult pool looking from out 3rd floor window …

This is my foot relaxing in the adult pool this afternoon …

This is me watching Diane relax in a deck chair by the kids wading pool …

This is me relaxing on the sofa in our room …

This is the sunset we watched tonight from our room …

Mazatlan – Day 1

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

It’s currently about 0705 this wonderful Monday morning, and we are high in the air somewhere over Oregon, heading south to LA.
The morning began awfully early, mainly because the evening ended far later than we had planned, but it all worked out. I opted to leave my CPAP in the other bag, in the vehicle, because it’s been a long time since I’ve snored all night long, and Diane was missing it. So, I was able to adequately keep both of us awake for a good portion of the night.

When we arrived at the hotel I conferred with Diane as to whether or not we should have a wake up call and she thought 0330 would be a good time to ensure we made the 0400 shuttle to the airport for our 0530 flight. Once in the room, however, she had a change of heart after rediscovering that our flight didn’t leave until 0640. With this new information in hand we agreed that we could push our wake up call all the way out to 0430 for the 0500 shuttle. I called the front desk and made the necessary changes.

It turns out that not all of the people who work at the hotel are on speaking terms because because we received a wake up call at 0330 and again at 0430. The second one was unnecessary because we stayed up after the first one. Consequently, we were more than ready to leave.

The guy behind us on the shuttle who’s accent pegged him as someone from Boston, New York, or New Jersey area, apparently spends his time flying from golf course to golf course, and he hasn’t had time to expand his vocabulary to deliver descriptive narrative without the use of some pretty base vulgarities. It was an educational trip.

At the airport we participated in two different lines that, combined, represented a very large portion of the greater Portland/Vancouver area. The first line was to check our food bag. It weighed in at 52.8 pounds which qualified it for a larger fee than the $20 Diane had already paid for. I was prepared to toss out a few cans of soup, but the attendant said, “that’s OK, I’ll let it go.” I think she allowed it because I didn’t argue with her. Sweet.

The second line was for security, a much larger line, but it moved quickly, which pleasantly surprised both of us. After getting all our clothing back on we went directly to the Starbucks which was directly ahead of us. Neither of us had had our morning coffee so we were in dire need.

Diane went to secure us a table while I inserted myself in the Starbucks line. Directly in front of me was a very attractive, well endowed young lady who was not the least bit afraid of displaying the talents God had provided for her. Over her shoulder hung a large pink bag attached to which was a very large, sparkly pin that spelled out “Victoria’s Secrets”. Since I was breathing, and blood coursed through my not yet constricted arteries, I was obviously interested in her story. So, I asked her if the bag indicated a vocation, or if it was simply a really neat bag. She flashed me a brilliant smile and said, “no, I just came home to get my ‘rain fix’, and I’m heading back to San Diego.” She’s from Vancouver and is attending the University of San Diego. Nice girl. I didn’t get a chance to ask her what she intended to be when she grew up, but it just didn’t seem necessary to ask at the time.

For coffee, I got my normal Venti WCMNW and Diane got a Venti CM. The attendant mistook the NW addendum to include both drinks, but that’s OK because you always get a little bit more that way. I also got a banana nut muffin which we shared. It was all very good.

We proceeded to gate C-4 and took a seat until almost everyone had boarded. We were destined for seats 9-A & B. A young man named Colin was sitting in seat C, the isle seat. He was reading a real book, not an electronic one, which initially got my interest, then he put the book away and started drawing very detailed depictions of those sitting around him. His choice of medium was a ballpoint pen and a lined steno pad. It was totally incredible so I, of course, commented, suggesting that he must have many of those filled notebooks stashed in storage someplace. He conceded this was true, and we struck up a conversation. Turns our he’s a graphic artist who works for Nike and he designs logos for T-Shirts. As sure as I’m sitting here, I’m willing to bet that many of you, who wear Nike products, have something he designed. Interesting. I told him that Phil should have sprung for First Class for him and his other workers and he said, “he does for international flights.” This time they were just going to various cities around the US to visit clients. A really nice guy.

Now, here’s the ‘small world’ part of this story. Turns out that Colin used to work for puppet maker name Michael Curry when his business was located in … wait for it … St. Helens, Oregon! Go Figure. Colin opted for a new job when Michael moved his business to Scappoose, 8 miles closer to Portland, and landed with Nike. One of his friends at Nike is the young lady who dreamed up the wings you see on the Oregon Ducks uniforms and logo shirts. He didn’t have any samples, so I had to leave that relationship shirtless. Still, it was a very nice visit.

In LA, Diane and I stopped at Ruby’s Cafe for a bite to eat, then on to gate 68-A to await our connecting flight to Mazatlan. Again, we waited until the line whittled down a ways before standing to join the crowd.

For traveling, I wore the T-shirt Diane got me that says “I’m Retired and this is as dressed up as I get”. It always seems to be a topic of conversation, a good icebreaker. While boarding the plane, the plane Captain and XO were standing by to greet folks and the CO commented about how he couldn’t wait until he could wear a shirt like mine. I offered to trade him shirts, but he declined stating that I wouldn’t want his because it was 4-days old. I told him that wasn’t a problem, but he still wouldn’t go for it. For just the briefest of moments I had visions of flying the plane.

On this leg we had seats 15-C&D which are both isle seats. We planned to sit there and hold hands across the isle for the entire flight, going to the bathroom when we pleased, without having to stumble over another passenger. That didn’t work out, however, because the older (than me) gentleman sitting in seat E, next to Diane, offered to trade me seats so we could sit together. How could we refuse? So, I wound up in seat D, and Diane moved to E. As fortune would have it, when they closed the door to the plane, a clear indication that no one else was going to be allowed aboard, seat F was still empty. So, I moved to F, the window seat. I hardly ever get the window seat, so I was thrilled.

That left seat D empty. After a bit of coaxing, the lady in row 14, seat D, convinced her friend to move up from the back and sit behind her. When she arrived she said that she hoped we didn’t mind if she joined us. I requested a vote, but was denied, so told her I didn’t mind as long as she and her friend didn’t talk all the way to Mexico. She said, “no chance. We’re just a couple of jabber boxes.” Turns our, however, that she’s a nice lady from Santa Barbara who also lives in Mazatlan. Her name is Romi and she owns the El Roots Cafe in our destination city. I learned all of this before we took off.

We were pushed away from the terminal on time, and headed for our place in line for takeoff. It was a bumpy ride to the end of the runway, but by the time we got there all the checks and balances had been performed so we were good to go. We turned on to the runway and immediately accelerated for takeoff. There was no delay, whatsoever. Just turn, and go.

Down the runway we raced, going faster and faster, and I could tell the nose wheel was almost ready to leave the runway. I believe this is called the ‘rotate’ point. Instead of doing that, however, the engines were reversed, and the brakes were tested to their fullest, giving every one on board a real exciting time, wondering what the heck had happened. We never came to a full stop, but slowed enough to get off the main runway, then the CO explained what happened. He said that about a 10 feet into our takeoff run he saw this goose in the middle of the runway and yearned for it to move. When it did, however, it took flight and made a suicidal run through our left engine which caused the pilot a great deal of concern. I’m sure the air controllers got a little excited, too. Probably woke a couple of them up. I suspect the “Check Engine” light probably came on in the cockpit, too.

We went back to the terminal and sat there for an hour while various people checked the engines and could find nothing wrong with either of them. There was a rumor from the back of the plane that the goose made a last minute dodge, missing the engine, but hitting the wing. He was found laying, entirely whole, on the runway. We were not allowed to leave until appropriate services were made and next of kin notified. It was sad, but a much better mental picture than one of shredded goose all over the place. Romi’s El Roots cafe serves sushi dishes so I asked her, if the goose had gone through the engine, could it be classified as Canadian Sushi. She agreed that it was probably appropriate.

Now we’re nearing the bottom end of The Gulf of California, and I an tell we’re losing altitude slowly. So, before the waitress yells at me again, I’m going to terminate this and be a good boy. I’ll add more, of course, once we get to our room at the resort.

The landing, though an hour later than planned, was uneventful. Even so, everyone on the play clapped and cheered, just as they did when we successfully departed the runway in LA. It was a cheerful bunch on that plane. Then we had to transit through customs and, as luck would have it, with Mexico’s random selection process, activated by pushing a large red button, Diane got the red light meaning we both had to participate in a strip search of everything we had. I as OK with it because I don’t mind if strangers touch me. Wherever they want to. Actually, they only wanted to dig through the luggage, which they did, then sent us on our merry way.

Thankfully, the resort shuttle driver knew about the delay and didn’t strand us. That would have been bad because there were 12 of us needing the ride. That trip, too, was uneventful, and we arrived just fine. Checked into our room, and removed all the sweaty clothes and had a PB&J sandwich.

Now we’re just cruising around looking at stuff.