My BFF Linda and I have been friends for almost 42 years, give or take. I now live in Arizona, she's still in Nebraska. So we try to get together every year, either here or there. When she comes out here, sometimes we take a side trip. When she was here in 2012, we drove over to California.....with my husband John as our chauffeur. Bad idea. So this year, we tried again, sans John.
Much better.
We had no hotel reservations, no idea where the hell we were going, and only two definite plans: take the TMZ tour we missed the first time around and join the audience for a live taping of "The Talk" - a totally "chick" show. We left on Friday, Oct. 18 and headed to
San Diego.
The drive over there is relatively simple. Get in your car and head West on I-10 then get on I-8. Before you know it, you're there.
Unless you're talking the entire time. Then, while you're discussing driving through the many immigration check points, you accidentally drive through a weigh station. Yeah, I did. But we were courteous. We slowed down and gave them the "Queen in a parade" wave. I'm sure they thought we were idiots. We didn't care - we were having fun!
When we got to San Diego, we were looking for the PCH - Pacific Coast Highway. We wanted to drive up to LA with beach views all the way. Except...here's where a little planning may have come in handy.....the PCH doesn't go through San Diego. After looking for it for, say, an hour, we finally deciphered the map and were on our way.
First stop - Oceanside. Have I mentioned the first thing on my Bucket List is to live in California for at least a year before I die? I have now decided Oceanside is where I want to be. It's gorgeous. We walked out to the end of the Pier and had a shake, pie and brownies at Ruby's. Hey - we were on VACATION - nothing you eat on vacation has any calories. It's a beautiful city. I even spotted a house for sale that would do. It was turquoise and on the side of a hill overlooking the beach. However, the sign said 6.5 mil, so we just slowly drove past and sighed.
We chose a really nice LaQuinta Inn at a great price and settled in. Did you know that hotels now have Papa John's coupons on their plastic key cards? Yep - that was our dinner. And breakfast the next day!
Vacation-on-the-fly doesn't suck! More to come.......
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Camping in San Diego
I've never been very enthused about camping. I went once when I was first dating my husband. You know how you do shit you wouldn't normally do unless you were dating someone new and wanted to impress them? Yeah, I did that. We drove his pick up truck to some godforsaken park in Nebraska and picked a site. He unloaded his Dad's tent, shook it out and I swear a thousand dead crickets came flying out of it. Needless to say, I slept in the truck that night and never tried it again. That was about 17 years ago.
My idea of camping is driving an RV and parking it where I can see it from the window of the (insert luxury hotel brand name here) Hotel room we have for the night.
So when our friends Goat and Tammy asked us if we wanted to attend the annual San Diego Parrot Head anniversary party in San Diego at Campland, I was a little hesitant. After all, at that park in Nebraska the showers were horrible. You pushed the button and got 10 seconds of water. No use holding the button down, all you got was 10 seconds. When your hair is down to the middle of your back (yeah, baby, I was hot back then!), this method sucks. But we said yes in spite of my trepidation. MY trepidation.......hubby was chomping at the bit to camp by the beach.
Tammy rented an RV for us. We drove over to SD, parked our truck, and moved in to the RV. How conveeeeeeenient! It was all hooked up, all we had to do was unload our stuff and party. We brought the crock pot for a roast on Friday and all kinds of food and booze.
Much to my surprise, the showers (which were about a half a block down the street) were very nice. As a newbie, I appreciated the abundance of room in each little stall and was impressed with how clean they were.
Campland is an amazing place. All kinds of vehicles parked all over. That weekend, most of them were occupied by Parrot Heads. And decorated by Parrot Heads. What a bunch of creative people! I totally enjoyed myself all weekend. Met some super nice people and partied with old and new friends alike.
Best thing about partying with the Parrot Heads in Campland was being able to set up our canopy, card table & chairs and bring our own coolers Saturday night. There was live music in the grassy/stage area and the weather was outstanding.
Being Goat's partner in Euchre Saturday was a learning experience, as he intended. But partying with our friends was the very best part. We plan to go again next year. Honestly, I never thought I'd actually look forward to camping. Getting out of your comfort zone once in a while is a very good thing.
My idea of camping is driving an RV and parking it where I can see it from the window of the (insert luxury hotel brand name here) Hotel room we have for the night.
So when our friends Goat and Tammy asked us if we wanted to attend the annual San Diego Parrot Head anniversary party in San Diego at Campland, I was a little hesitant. After all, at that park in Nebraska the showers were horrible. You pushed the button and got 10 seconds of water. No use holding the button down, all you got was 10 seconds. When your hair is down to the middle of your back (yeah, baby, I was hot back then!), this method sucks. But we said yes in spite of my trepidation. MY trepidation.......hubby was chomping at the bit to camp by the beach.
Tammy rented an RV for us. We drove over to SD, parked our truck, and moved in to the RV. How conveeeeeeenient! It was all hooked up, all we had to do was unload our stuff and party. We brought the crock pot for a roast on Friday and all kinds of food and booze.
Much to my surprise, the showers (which were about a half a block down the street) were very nice. As a newbie, I appreciated the abundance of room in each little stall and was impressed with how clean they were.
Campland is an amazing place. All kinds of vehicles parked all over. That weekend, most of them were occupied by Parrot Heads. And decorated by Parrot Heads. What a bunch of creative people! I totally enjoyed myself all weekend. Met some super nice people and partied with old and new friends alike.
Best thing about partying with the Parrot Heads in Campland was being able to set up our canopy, card table & chairs and bring our own coolers Saturday night. There was live music in the grassy/stage area and the weather was outstanding.
Being Goat's partner in Euchre Saturday was a learning experience, as he intended. But partying with our friends was the very best part. We plan to go again next year. Honestly, I never thought I'd actually look forward to camping. Getting out of your comfort zone once in a while is a very good thing.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Dental follies
At the risk of sounding like everyone else, I hate going to the dentist. This probably stems from traumatic visits to Dr. Sofio in the 60's. Those big, black drills coming out of the ceiling scared the bejesus out of me. The noise was enough to make me shake in my tennies. So over the years I've avoided the dentist at all costs. And the result is typical - I now have horrible teeth. Meth-addict teeth. Well, maybe not that bad but close.
Last week, I got an abcess or infection or something in a tooth on my upper left side. All I know is it hurt like hell. So on Thursday I reluctantly called the dentist. This is the guy I went to see in 2009 thinking I was going to get them all yanked and get dentures. I chickened out after the initial consult. But now I needed some good anti-biotics to knock this out of my tooth. Unfortunately, every dentist in the city was at the Western Region Dental Conference in the Phoenix convention center. So I started popping 4 ibuprophen at a time for the pain. Friday night after having some nice crunchy fish for dinner (and chewing only on my right side), the pain was too much. Went to the Emergency Clinic by our house. John drove me over there since we had been out at dinner anyway.
Now I don't expect much from these clinics, especially on a Friday night. All I needed was the drugs! We get there and the nurse says it will be an hour before I can see a doctor. I can see John sweating and getting itchy so I take him home and go back by myself. Before I knew it, some young internist was taking my vitals and telling me the doc would be right in! Great!
Five minutes later, the door to the room slowly opens. In comes the doctor, and I use this term loosely. The guy is pushing a WALKER, weighs about 250, and has long, greasy grey hair combed back like some old hippie Santa. I counted three solid rolls of flab around his middle. This did NOT instill in me any medical confidence. I wouldn't have let that guy touch me with a 10 foot pole. All I wanted was for him to write the script and get me outta there. I simply can't imagine showing up there with a medical problem requiring any type of physical exam. I mean, seriously, it was like something freaky out of a B horror movie you watched in the 70's while smoking pot!
While I do not condone making fun of people with walkers and other serious problems, I DO think they should not be working as doctors in emergency clinics, especially on a Friday night. Needless to say, I got the script and raced to Fry's to get it filled. But I still couldn't erase the effects of the visit on my mental state. That image will forever be burned in my mind.
You just can't make this stuff up, people!
Last week, I got an abcess or infection or something in a tooth on my upper left side. All I know is it hurt like hell. So on Thursday I reluctantly called the dentist. This is the guy I went to see in 2009 thinking I was going to get them all yanked and get dentures. I chickened out after the initial consult. But now I needed some good anti-biotics to knock this out of my tooth. Unfortunately, every dentist in the city was at the Western Region Dental Conference in the Phoenix convention center. So I started popping 4 ibuprophen at a time for the pain. Friday night after having some nice crunchy fish for dinner (and chewing only on my right side), the pain was too much. Went to the Emergency Clinic by our house. John drove me over there since we had been out at dinner anyway.
Now I don't expect much from these clinics, especially on a Friday night. All I needed was the drugs! We get there and the nurse says it will be an hour before I can see a doctor. I can see John sweating and getting itchy so I take him home and go back by myself. Before I knew it, some young internist was taking my vitals and telling me the doc would be right in! Great!
Five minutes later, the door to the room slowly opens. In comes the doctor, and I use this term loosely. The guy is pushing a WALKER, weighs about 250, and has long, greasy grey hair combed back like some old hippie Santa. I counted three solid rolls of flab around his middle. This did NOT instill in me any medical confidence. I wouldn't have let that guy touch me with a 10 foot pole. All I wanted was for him to write the script and get me outta there. I simply can't imagine showing up there with a medical problem requiring any type of physical exam. I mean, seriously, it was like something freaky out of a B horror movie you watched in the 70's while smoking pot!
While I do not condone making fun of people with walkers and other serious problems, I DO think they should not be working as doctors in emergency clinics, especially on a Friday night. Needless to say, I got the script and raced to Fry's to get it filled. But I still couldn't erase the effects of the visit on my mental state. That image will forever be burned in my mind.
You just can't make this stuff up, people!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
New Clothes
I've been lucky enough for the past 20 or so years to have a job that doesn't require me to "dress up." I've become accustomed to wearing shorts, T shirts, flip flops and the occasional pair of jeans to work. I don't think I even own a dress now. It's gotten to the point where I feel a little phony when I have to dress for an event...wedding, funeral, or the like. And that just involves long black pants and a grown-up blouse!
But I get tired of the same old T shirts so every once in a while I get some new ones. This week I got an email from Crazy Shirts in Hawaii. I love their T shirts. They are good quality and stay soft after a lot of washings. I couldn't resist the offer of Free Shipping that was actually FREE with no minimum purchase. WOO HOO! So I checked out the clearance shirts first.
Right off the bat I found two long sleeved, colorful Ts. Yes, one even had a Peace symbol on it with seashells and turtles. Loved them both! Placed the order online and 2 days later, Mr. Fed Ex delivered them to my door at work.
I should have known this was too good to be true. Just let me ask this: In what alternate universe did Crazy Shirts devise their sizing chart? I normally wear an XL and I feel comfortable in it. I'm old so I don't really like to wear skin tight stuff. I'm going with "old" as opposed to "fat around the middle" so stay with me on this. As I tried on each shirt, I was happy to see that the sleeves were long enough. Sometimes I have problems with that. But when I pulled it all the way down, EEK!
I assume everyone that works at Crazy Shirts must be young, tanned and in incredible shape. And probably NONE of them wear anything larger than a medium. Sigh. Guess I should have shopped in the men's section instead of looking at the pretty colored, girly shirts. That's what I get for trying to get "dressy."
But I get tired of the same old T shirts so every once in a while I get some new ones. This week I got an email from Crazy Shirts in Hawaii. I love their T shirts. They are good quality and stay soft after a lot of washings. I couldn't resist the offer of Free Shipping that was actually FREE with no minimum purchase. WOO HOO! So I checked out the clearance shirts first.
Right off the bat I found two long sleeved, colorful Ts. Yes, one even had a Peace symbol on it with seashells and turtles. Loved them both! Placed the order online and 2 days later, Mr. Fed Ex delivered them to my door at work.
I should have known this was too good to be true. Just let me ask this: In what alternate universe did Crazy Shirts devise their sizing chart? I normally wear an XL and I feel comfortable in it. I'm old so I don't really like to wear skin tight stuff. I'm going with "old" as opposed to "fat around the middle" so stay with me on this. As I tried on each shirt, I was happy to see that the sleeves were long enough. Sometimes I have problems with that. But when I pulled it all the way down, EEK!
I assume everyone that works at Crazy Shirts must be young, tanned and in incredible shape. And probably NONE of them wear anything larger than a medium. Sigh. Guess I should have shopped in the men's section instead of looking at the pretty colored, girly shirts. That's what I get for trying to get "dressy."
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Naming Names
2012. New Year. Time to name names.
Over two years ago, their friend had a Garage Sale. They decided to help. There was a box of ceramic and other assorted clowns. Another friend said they heard a friend declare that he was deathly afraid of clowns. They were "creepy" and "freaked him out." That's all this friend needed. They took the clowns and proceeded with the plan.
They sent the clowns on holidays or for no reason. They sent them to places he was vacationing. They even sent them from far away places. But the modus operandi was always the same: each clown was carefully packaged with bubble wrap or packing peanuts, boxes were wrapped in decorative paper or plain brown paper. And there was never a return address.
Over the years, there were ceramic clowns, resin clowns, a Raggedy Ann-type doll clown, a roly poly clown playing a cello, actual bell clowns, clowns sitting on the ground, clowns sitting on boxes, and the most recent - a clown jack-in-the-box. The recipient posted pictures of them on Facebook. His friends lamented that his "tormentor" was a horrible person. How could someone do this to him? He's such a nice guy - he didn't deserve it.
Each box that arrived creeped him out even more. He had his roommate open the boxes.....he stored them in his garage. Curiously, he didn't dispose of them. Kept them all in his garage, even with the fear in the back of his mind that maybe some night they would rebel and come after him in his sleep.
Throughout all of this, he began to think that maybe, just maybe, his tormentor honestly liked him. After all, the clowns were packed with care, postage was spent to mail all of them, and really, nothing bad had ever come of it. He laughed and joked about them.
What he didn't realize was that his tormentor actually DID like him. They had started it out as a joke but didn't forsee that so many other people would be horrified. His Facebook friends called the sender "cruel" and "awful." Still the clowns kept coming.
A few people knew the truth. They shall remain nameless. But I know who the perpetrator is and I'm going to spill the beans. Do you think you know?
Over two years ago, their friend had a Garage Sale. They decided to help. There was a box of ceramic and other assorted clowns. Another friend said they heard a friend declare that he was deathly afraid of clowns. They were "creepy" and "freaked him out." That's all this friend needed. They took the clowns and proceeded with the plan.
They sent the clowns on holidays or for no reason. They sent them to places he was vacationing. They even sent them from far away places. But the modus operandi was always the same: each clown was carefully packaged with bubble wrap or packing peanuts, boxes were wrapped in decorative paper or plain brown paper. And there was never a return address.
Over the years, there were ceramic clowns, resin clowns, a Raggedy Ann-type doll clown, a roly poly clown playing a cello, actual bell clowns, clowns sitting on the ground, clowns sitting on boxes, and the most recent - a clown jack-in-the-box. The recipient posted pictures of them on Facebook. His friends lamented that his "tormentor" was a horrible person. How could someone do this to him? He's such a nice guy - he didn't deserve it.
Each box that arrived creeped him out even more. He had his roommate open the boxes.....he stored them in his garage. Curiously, he didn't dispose of them. Kept them all in his garage, even with the fear in the back of his mind that maybe some night they would rebel and come after him in his sleep.
Throughout all of this, he began to think that maybe, just maybe, his tormentor honestly liked him. After all, the clowns were packed with care, postage was spent to mail all of them, and really, nothing bad had ever come of it. He laughed and joked about them.
What he didn't realize was that his tormentor actually DID like him. They had started it out as a joke but didn't forsee that so many other people would be horrified. His Facebook friends called the sender "cruel" and "awful." Still the clowns kept coming.
A few people knew the truth. They shall remain nameless. But I know who the perpetrator is and I'm going to spill the beans. Do you think you know?
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Christmas Shoes
Most women love shoes...that's a given. I love shoes, too. But I REALLY love Christmas shoes. Ok, not really shoes - tennis shoes. Having a broadcast job affords me the luxury of not having to dress up every day. So tennis shoes and flip flops comprise the bulk of my shoe wardrobe.
Every year I trot out (pun intended) my 3 pairs of special holiday tennies. The first pair I ever purchased are Chuck Taylor high tops. For those of you fashion-challenged, Chuck Taylors are Converse brand. I was a little hesitant to purchase them because, after all, they can only be worn about a month out of the year. But they were on sale (it was August) so I bought them and left them in the box for 3 months. They're pretty snazzy - red, green, and gold stripes with gold thread intertwined. And of course, red shoe strings.
My second purchase is my favorite, I think. They're white Vans slip ons with skulls wearing Santa hats. Weird, I know, but I love them!
The third pair is another pair of Chucks, but low tops. They're white, too, with green Christmas trees and red shoe strings. These are the ones I was wearing the other day when the mailman came to my door with a large box. I couldn't get the front door unlocked (rusty?), so I told him I'd open the garage. As I'm standing there by the door waiting for it to go up, I hear him mutter, "nice shoes." Now due to the noise of the garage door going up, I couldn't tell if it was a real compliment or sarcasm, so I said, "Sorry, what did you say?" He smiled and said it again. Nice to know there are "older gentlemen" who can appreciate a cool pair of shoes. Or maybe he thought I caught his unflattering sarcasm and decided to change his mind.
Either way, I'm going with the appreciative old Dude. Merry Christmas to all!
Every year I trot out (pun intended) my 3 pairs of special holiday tennies. The first pair I ever purchased are Chuck Taylor high tops. For those of you fashion-challenged, Chuck Taylors are Converse brand. I was a little hesitant to purchase them because, after all, they can only be worn about a month out of the year. But they were on sale (it was August) so I bought them and left them in the box for 3 months. They're pretty snazzy - red, green, and gold stripes with gold thread intertwined. And of course, red shoe strings.
My second purchase is my favorite, I think. They're white Vans slip ons with skulls wearing Santa hats. Weird, I know, but I love them!
The third pair is another pair of Chucks, but low tops. They're white, too, with green Christmas trees and red shoe strings. These are the ones I was wearing the other day when the mailman came to my door with a large box. I couldn't get the front door unlocked (rusty?), so I told him I'd open the garage. As I'm standing there by the door waiting for it to go up, I hear him mutter, "nice shoes." Now due to the noise of the garage door going up, I couldn't tell if it was a real compliment or sarcasm, so I said, "Sorry, what did you say?" He smiled and said it again. Nice to know there are "older gentlemen" who can appreciate a cool pair of shoes. Or maybe he thought I caught his unflattering sarcasm and decided to change his mind.
Either way, I'm going with the appreciative old Dude. Merry Christmas to all!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Christmas (again)
Since my last post, I have taken out my Christmas cards and updated the list. Even mailed out a few. That's it. No decorations up yet except a little tree that was Danny's. Probably won't be putting up any more stuff. Just not into it. Thought about lights outside, but if I can't talk John into doing it Thanksgiving weekend, then we won't do it. I didn't - and we didn't.
There is one (two) shining star in all this holiday stuff: Preston and Parker, our Grandkids. If it wasn't for them, I would probably skip Christmas completely this year. How can you not get in the Christmas mood just a little when you see this:
There is one (two) shining star in all this holiday stuff: Preston and Parker, our Grandkids. If it wasn't for them, I would probably skip Christmas completely this year. How can you not get in the Christmas mood just a little when you see this:
Brotherly love! Hope for the future. Those two little stinkers keep me smiling. Katy (their Mom) sent a bunch of pictures via Facebook and each one is cuter than the other. Almost makes me want to forego the freezing cold Winters and move back to Nebraska. Almost. But not quite. Grammies are supposed to live far away so when they finally get to see the Grandkids, they can spoil them rotten and then turn them back over to their parents, expecting all the spoiling that Grammies gave them! And we get to send them stuff in the mail for surprises, not only at Christmas but all year long.
Gee, I guess blog writing can be theraputic. Now I feel a little more Christmas-y just writing about the "Watson Boys" as they are called at home.
So tonight I will finish writing my Christmas cards and mail them tomorrow. Then maybe I'll shop a little for our Save The Family adopted family. That certainly makes me feel the Christmas spirit, too. And it makes me thankful for what I have.
Especially those two little angels!
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