Writers are often inspired by love. I know a couple that are so much in love that I smile just to be near them. Their love spills around them like a waterfall and envelopes everything near. The subject of love often calls for the creation of a poem, rather than the use of prose. Let me make this attempt.
A lovely Couple
She is his girl, so Savvy, She gets Whatever She Wants
Because he loves her and because she deserves it and nothing more
Clattering into town in the old white van,
"Click", quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Packed like sardines in the Lil' Whale
Sharing their way with marginal success
Better saving cats than criminals
Better planning to Cruise
Better jonesing for Tim Horton's or a can of Busch beer
Dollar days and DVD nights of love on the boat with no name
The pretty boat with Raven eyes and Savvy smiles
Better saving boats than Tom Cats or criminals
Rat Fink safe and sound in a bag
Ribs covered in linen and high water pants on the boom
Entertaining just one more stupid question
Pina colada chasers that warm the blood in the cool night wind
Sounding like angels at the end of a broken guitar string
Such is their love
Like angels, although he never did like that guy
She laughs and the papers are signed
Its official, Whatever She Wants
How delightful they are, my two vagabond friends
With dreams that come true before my eyes
Far away dreams than sail with the tide and time and weather
Leaving me behind
They are indeed a lovely couple very much in love. They give the rest of us great hope to see such a great thing manifest in the world. They are wonderful to have as friends. Be careful of any vagabonds you may meet along the way. They just may steal your heart.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Twix
I have had no great breakthroughs in my understanding of life, other than to know that it is better to be immersed in it rather than to study it from the sidelines. My grandmother, especially in the last 25 years of her long life wondered why she was still here. She had bobbed up to the surface of life after grandfather passed, left with only the sensation that she was adrift in the waves.
Having something to do, likely a job that followed a regular schedule, may have been the balm that would have set her right. I do know that my own personal experience has taught me that I'm happiest when I am employed in some fashion as opposed to being idle. My musing along these lines comes about from an afternoon with a wonderful little dog named Twix.
Twix, oh, he is so cute that I call him Twixie! He is a lovable dachshund, standard in size, with a smooth, what I would call a brown coat, but I believe those in the know would call it a red. He has a wonderful long nose and large floppy ears. His chest is broad and the long body sits atop short stubby legs set on over sized paws. Then there is his tail, which is a long and sinuous whip of a thing that tells as much about what he is thinking as anything.
Twix lives aboard M/V Perelandra, a large private motor vessel with Miss Kittie, his owner. The Perelandra is named after the second book in the C. S. Lewis Space Trilogy and I think the name fits it well. It has a spacious wheel house, ample quarters fore and aft below, and a wonderful upper salon deck which affords beautiful views of the marina and bay. There is good fishing in the marina itself and Miss Kittie is a good fisher woman.
Now, the thing that employs Twix the most aboard Perelandra is playing catch with a tennis ball. He is very particular about the color of the ball, it must be green. He also is choosy about the brand, preferring Penn or Gamma and shunning Wilson. I suppose it may have to do with the way the ball mouths, or possibly its bouquet.
He must perform at least one trick before the game is allowed to start and like tennis, there is no time limit on the game itself. Twix will play until play is interrupted. On the day I visited aboard Perelandra, Twix was encouraged to start play by dropping the ball into a bowl and then retrieving it. Game on.
If one says "I can't reach it", Twix will toss the ball back to you. If you are on a soft surface, like a berth, he will drop kick it to you with his long nose. If on the deck, he just gives it a roll. In either case his tail whips along just as the ball flys towards you. I believe it provides a catapult effect and is adorable.
Twix is completely rapt when playing ball. He has no past, no future. His cares and concerns are completely obliterated by the present moment. He is absolutely immersed in the employment of playing ball.
There is one thing that will pull him from his rapture and that is when a fish is hooked. Twix gets so excited that he dashes to the rail with ball in mouth, and in his glee as the fish is being hauled on deck, will actually drop the ball. I hurriedly had to grab the long handled net and retrieve it from the water for him. He gave it no mind. His whole being was captured by the presence of the fish.
Miss Kittie has taught Twix to kiss the fish, and he did that lovingly at first, but since a catfish poked him with a barb, the kisses are more like love bites and I fear for the safety of the fish!
So, I conclude from all this musing, that a steady employment among those of good company with an occasional excitement make for a healthy rewarding life. Twixie agrees with me from the tip of his cute prolonged nose to the end of his expressive tail. I wish my grandmother would have been able to see him so many years ago. It may have changed the last quarter century of her very long life. I can only hope that those of us that are still living, may apply this small canines bit of wisdom to our own lives as well.
Having something to do, likely a job that followed a regular schedule, may have been the balm that would have set her right. I do know that my own personal experience has taught me that I'm happiest when I am employed in some fashion as opposed to being idle. My musing along these lines comes about from an afternoon with a wonderful little dog named Twix.
Twix, oh, he is so cute that I call him Twixie! He is a lovable dachshund, standard in size, with a smooth, what I would call a brown coat, but I believe those in the know would call it a red. He has a wonderful long nose and large floppy ears. His chest is broad and the long body sits atop short stubby legs set on over sized paws. Then there is his tail, which is a long and sinuous whip of a thing that tells as much about what he is thinking as anything.
Twix lives aboard M/V Perelandra, a large private motor vessel with Miss Kittie, his owner. The Perelandra is named after the second book in the C. S. Lewis Space Trilogy and I think the name fits it well. It has a spacious wheel house, ample quarters fore and aft below, and a wonderful upper salon deck which affords beautiful views of the marina and bay. There is good fishing in the marina itself and Miss Kittie is a good fisher woman.
Now, the thing that employs Twix the most aboard Perelandra is playing catch with a tennis ball. He is very particular about the color of the ball, it must be green. He also is choosy about the brand, preferring Penn or Gamma and shunning Wilson. I suppose it may have to do with the way the ball mouths, or possibly its bouquet.
He must perform at least one trick before the game is allowed to start and like tennis, there is no time limit on the game itself. Twix will play until play is interrupted. On the day I visited aboard Perelandra, Twix was encouraged to start play by dropping the ball into a bowl and then retrieving it. Game on.
If one says "I can't reach it", Twix will toss the ball back to you. If you are on a soft surface, like a berth, he will drop kick it to you with his long nose. If on the deck, he just gives it a roll. In either case his tail whips along just as the ball flys towards you. I believe it provides a catapult effect and is adorable.
Twix is completely rapt when playing ball. He has no past, no future. His cares and concerns are completely obliterated by the present moment. He is absolutely immersed in the employment of playing ball.
There is one thing that will pull him from his rapture and that is when a fish is hooked. Twix gets so excited that he dashes to the rail with ball in mouth, and in his glee as the fish is being hauled on deck, will actually drop the ball. I hurriedly had to grab the long handled net and retrieve it from the water for him. He gave it no mind. His whole being was captured by the presence of the fish.
Miss Kittie has taught Twix to kiss the fish, and he did that lovingly at first, but since a catfish poked him with a barb, the kisses are more like love bites and I fear for the safety of the fish!
So, I conclude from all this musing, that a steady employment among those of good company with an occasional excitement make for a healthy rewarding life. Twixie agrees with me from the tip of his cute prolonged nose to the end of his expressive tail. I wish my grandmother would have been able to see him so many years ago. It may have changed the last quarter century of her very long life. I can only hope that those of us that are still living, may apply this small canines bit of wisdom to our own lives as well.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Memory Of House In Place And Time
It was a small house, a two story built in the Craftsman style. I suppose it had been built in the late 1920's. The family that lived in it all of my young life were best friends to my father and I suppose as a result, also to my mother and me. The house is a stranger to me now, but I remember it clearly.
There was always a riot of children in that house and I never knew it to be quiet except late in the night when sleep would finally take all and leave peace on the door step. It was a grand place to be a child, full of wonder and fresh delight.
The house had a front porch of course. Nothing special, but covered and wide and deep enough to allow extended occupancy. The kind of front port designed for a swing and rocking chairs although I never knew of anyone to actually linger there. It was more of a launching pad for the front door and the excitement that lay inside.
The wooden front door with the big glass window was always open in the summer and barely closed at any other season. We blew by it making a hard right to the landing at the bottom of the stairs and then a mad dash to the top landing, never pausing at the window, then hard left the rest of the way to the hall. There were only the three bedrooms and one large bedroom sized bath. That was how they did baths back then. And the bedrooms usually held us in bunk beds when our ages and sizes warranted. We battled and cajoled for top or bottom as seemed best at the time.
There was always a television on in the bedroom and when we were confined indoors there were Sci-Fi and monster movies and of course Charlie Chan, Sherlock Holmes, and Tarzan to keep us entertained. The local Cleveland CBS affiliate carried Ghoulardi and later Houlihan and Big Chuck. They brought a wacky brand of humor and hip lingo to us with phrases like, "Turn Blue You Purple Knif," and, "Rat Fink." We were delirious. There were sleepovers, Barbecue potato chips, Royal Crown Sodas and the mother of all TV foods, pizza!
We never slowed going back down those steps, preferring to jump to the first landing and fly to the second. The mirror on the coat closet door caught us mid sail and we could admire ourselves in it and rightly so. We were quite proud of our abilities.
The living room was usually packed with games of all kinds. There were kid sized tables for pool, football, hockey, pinball, and assorted others as fashion dictated. The tables were sturdy, but still, did not last terribly long in the face of kid commotion and were replaced often, usually with a newer and therefore hotter model. The sofa stretched along the front of the room under the big picture window and was strictly reserved for George, the father of the house.
How can I describe George? Aw, now that is making me remember. He seemed such a very large man to all of us kids. He was extremely friendly and generous and loud. He never failed to pay attention to us, pointing out our existance with a resounding cry of "Yoy!" We crushed and eddied around him but only for moments at a time, our currents running too swift and deep. There were only two times that he would cause us to suspend our escapades, when it was time for his nap under the picture window and when he was engaged in doing "The Books" for his business at the little desk in the dining room. I have the most wonderful memory of George, fast asleep on the sofa, with his yougest son Fankie spawled asleep across his massive chest.
The Dining room was seldom used for dining. There was just too much going on for that. It held the little desk, the huge leather recliner that would either hold George or three or four of us in front of the color TV. We piled deep in that chair when Joe Namath and the Jets won the Super Bowl in pantyhose. There was a table against the back wall, the kind that opens up for company. I don't remember it ever being opened. In the craftman style built-in cabinets there was one very special drawer. It held what seemed at the time to be hundreds of small toys of every type. There seemed to be no bottom to it and they would issue from it like a fountain whenever it was opened.
The kitchen belonged to Gerri, the mother of the house. She was a lovely thin woman with an easy kind smile and an amazingly patient demenour. How she kept us all within her radar and relatively trouble free remains one of the great mysteries. And how she fed us all. Breakfast was fairly straight forward of course, there was cereal in the cupboards and we could be kept quiet while reading the backs of the boxes and when the contents grew low enough, seaching for the toy inside.
But there were counless lunches and an avalanche of dinners. Summers, those could be managed outside from the grill, but summers in NE Ohio are short, so much of her time must have been spent between the kitchen and the laundry. Still, I never knew her to be overwhelemed by all of us nor lament our presence in any way. We could talk to her of course, if we slowed enough to be intelligable. She would always listen and say "Is that so." or "Isn't that special."
The back porch was so small as to be nothing more than a place to change trajectory from the angle of the steps to the opening of the back door. There was hardly enough room to swing a cat out there and we probably would have if it were possible. The steps spilled on to the the black top drive which required frequent renewal, but was always a wonder for at least a summer after it was was laid down. There were all sorts of bikes, peddle cars, skooters, trikes, balls, bats, and gloves stashed in the garage and that pristeen black ashfalt got a workout.
The family car was always a classic station wagon. I don't remember make or model, but it was large enough to carry piles of us. There were picnics at the lake, trips to the root beer stand for Mugs and conies, drive-in movies, ice cream cones. The boys played baseball and football and there was always a game to go to and a stop to make on the way home. Later a travel trailer was added and sat in the side yard. It acted as our summer vacation home where we piled up with the TV and Jungle Larry and pretzles waiting to ambush the Jingle Scoop ice cream truck which could always be heard blocks away.
It was a house full of the greatest volume of life in those days. We thought it would ever be like that but things change. George died way too young and was unable to finish raising his family. The house grew quiet when he passed. Those of us that were not of the family visited less often. Children grew up. Gerri made it a pretty house and things stayed where she put them. I don't imagine it was ever the same for her. I never asked.
I long for those childhood days in that house at times. They were good days. Full of energy and promise and free of care. I have never experienced the like of it since nor do I suppose that I ever will.
There was always a riot of children in that house and I never knew it to be quiet except late in the night when sleep would finally take all and leave peace on the door step. It was a grand place to be a child, full of wonder and fresh delight.
The house had a front porch of course. Nothing special, but covered and wide and deep enough to allow extended occupancy. The kind of front port designed for a swing and rocking chairs although I never knew of anyone to actually linger there. It was more of a launching pad for the front door and the excitement that lay inside.
The wooden front door with the big glass window was always open in the summer and barely closed at any other season. We blew by it making a hard right to the landing at the bottom of the stairs and then a mad dash to the top landing, never pausing at the window, then hard left the rest of the way to the hall. There were only the three bedrooms and one large bedroom sized bath. That was how they did baths back then. And the bedrooms usually held us in bunk beds when our ages and sizes warranted. We battled and cajoled for top or bottom as seemed best at the time.
There was always a television on in the bedroom and when we were confined indoors there were Sci-Fi and monster movies and of course Charlie Chan, Sherlock Holmes, and Tarzan to keep us entertained. The local Cleveland CBS affiliate carried Ghoulardi and later Houlihan and Big Chuck. They brought a wacky brand of humor and hip lingo to us with phrases like, "Turn Blue You Purple Knif," and, "Rat Fink." We were delirious. There were sleepovers, Barbecue potato chips, Royal Crown Sodas and the mother of all TV foods, pizza!
We never slowed going back down those steps, preferring to jump to the first landing and fly to the second. The mirror on the coat closet door caught us mid sail and we could admire ourselves in it and rightly so. We were quite proud of our abilities.
The living room was usually packed with games of all kinds. There were kid sized tables for pool, football, hockey, pinball, and assorted others as fashion dictated. The tables were sturdy, but still, did not last terribly long in the face of kid commotion and were replaced often, usually with a newer and therefore hotter model. The sofa stretched along the front of the room under the big picture window and was strictly reserved for George, the father of the house.
How can I describe George? Aw, now that is making me remember. He seemed such a very large man to all of us kids. He was extremely friendly and generous and loud. He never failed to pay attention to us, pointing out our existance with a resounding cry of "Yoy!" We crushed and eddied around him but only for moments at a time, our currents running too swift and deep. There were only two times that he would cause us to suspend our escapades, when it was time for his nap under the picture window and when he was engaged in doing "The Books" for his business at the little desk in the dining room. I have the most wonderful memory of George, fast asleep on the sofa, with his yougest son Fankie spawled asleep across his massive chest.
The Dining room was seldom used for dining. There was just too much going on for that. It held the little desk, the huge leather recliner that would either hold George or three or four of us in front of the color TV. We piled deep in that chair when Joe Namath and the Jets won the Super Bowl in pantyhose. There was a table against the back wall, the kind that opens up for company. I don't remember it ever being opened. In the craftman style built-in cabinets there was one very special drawer. It held what seemed at the time to be hundreds of small toys of every type. There seemed to be no bottom to it and they would issue from it like a fountain whenever it was opened.
The kitchen belonged to Gerri, the mother of the house. She was a lovely thin woman with an easy kind smile and an amazingly patient demenour. How she kept us all within her radar and relatively trouble free remains one of the great mysteries. And how she fed us all. Breakfast was fairly straight forward of course, there was cereal in the cupboards and we could be kept quiet while reading the backs of the boxes and when the contents grew low enough, seaching for the toy inside.
But there were counless lunches and an avalanche of dinners. Summers, those could be managed outside from the grill, but summers in NE Ohio are short, so much of her time must have been spent between the kitchen and the laundry. Still, I never knew her to be overwhelemed by all of us nor lament our presence in any way. We could talk to her of course, if we slowed enough to be intelligable. She would always listen and say "Is that so." or "Isn't that special."
The back porch was so small as to be nothing more than a place to change trajectory from the angle of the steps to the opening of the back door. There was hardly enough room to swing a cat out there and we probably would have if it were possible. The steps spilled on to the the black top drive which required frequent renewal, but was always a wonder for at least a summer after it was was laid down. There were all sorts of bikes, peddle cars, skooters, trikes, balls, bats, and gloves stashed in the garage and that pristeen black ashfalt got a workout.
The family car was always a classic station wagon. I don't remember make or model, but it was large enough to carry piles of us. There were picnics at the lake, trips to the root beer stand for Mugs and conies, drive-in movies, ice cream cones. The boys played baseball and football and there was always a game to go to and a stop to make on the way home. Later a travel trailer was added and sat in the side yard. It acted as our summer vacation home where we piled up with the TV and Jungle Larry and pretzles waiting to ambush the Jingle Scoop ice cream truck which could always be heard blocks away.
It was a house full of the greatest volume of life in those days. We thought it would ever be like that but things change. George died way too young and was unable to finish raising his family. The house grew quiet when he passed. Those of us that were not of the family visited less often. Children grew up. Gerri made it a pretty house and things stayed where she put them. I don't imagine it was ever the same for her. I never asked.
I long for those childhood days in that house at times. They were good days. Full of energy and promise and free of care. I have never experienced the like of it since nor do I suppose that I ever will.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The Cruise
I was fortunate to be able to take a five day cruise out of Galveston recently and this is the account that I penned to my good friend Sandie.
The Cruise
The drive from Corpus to Galveston started out pleasant, a little cool, but sunny. As I got closer to Galveston, the weather turned rainy, cold and windy. The ship, Carnival Cruise Lines Ecstasy, was late coming into port because of dense fog and the boarding passengers had to wait in line outside the terminal in the wind and cold. The rain had stopped by then. We waited about an hour and then the doors opened to let us in. I was only a dozen people from the door and the line stretched for blocks. As I approached the entrance, a security lady stopped me and told me I had to check my bag at the other end of the terminal, but she would let me cut back into line when I returned. I had a long cold walk both ways and got some pretty dirty looks when I went to the head of the line.
The wait in the terminal was another two hours. I amused myself with watching a group of older women playing bridge. They were quite lively and talkative, so the time passed quickly. The actual boarding process went very fast. I dropped my carry-on bag at my room and my checked bag was waiting just outside the door. The room, an interior cabin, was spacious and lovely. I suppose it seemed much larger than it was because I live in 360 square feet inside my RV. The bath was large and brilliantly lit, immaculately clean and gorgeous. There was abundant closet space.
I unpacked and stowed my bags and headed to the Lido Deck for a late lunch. The cafeteria style facility was very comfortable, well staffed and the food was good. This restaurant takes up the entire aft third of the deck with floor to ceiling windows on both sides. The food was quite good. The deli was excellent.
I was pretty tired after the drive and long wait at the terminal, so I decided to take my rest. The bed was turned down with chocolate hearts placed by the pillow and a very creative white swan shaped from a bath towel greeted me. Throughout the voyage, more towel creatures appeared. There was an octopus, stingray, walrus, and an elephant. My cabin steward was excellent in keeping my room made up and clean.
I spent the next day, a day at sea, exploring the ship. I had a nice breakfast in one of the two formal restaurants, lunch in the cafeteria, and dinner in the cafeteria. The shops were open and I did a little shopping. I had my e-book reader and found a comfy spot to read next to the piano player. It was still too cool and cloudy to be out on deck in the elements. Being rested I took in a show in the evening and then spent some time in the piano bar listening to the requests. Lorraine was very good at playing and singing, and was very bubbly and lively. It was nice.
The next day we arrived in port in Progreso, Mexico. I had been in this port before and did not feel like seeing it again alone. The pool deck was sunny and warm, so I put on my bikini and designer sun glasses and headed for a deck chair. The deck was not crowded so I had no problem leaving my chair to fetch lunch and beverages without any risk of losing the chair. I had a very relaxing day. In the evening, we had the first formal dinner and I dressed and went to the dining room. It was the only evening that I went to the dining room. Three of the four table mates did not speak English, being from Bolivia, however one woman was a transplant to Houston and we had a nice conversation. I met her again later on the aft deck and we chatted again. I have forgotten her name already. She had been an ER nurse, married a Scotsman and had a daughter. She loved the USA and had been here for forty years. She was retired and the Scotsman had returned to Scotland to finish out his years. I thought that unusual.
After dinner I attended another show, changed into another dress and went to one of the many clubs to listen to the music and have a drink. I spoke to a couple that had noticed me waiting in the terminal, They were glad that I was not among the "old ladies." I replied that I would have been pleased if I was. They would have been excellent company. I never saw them again, the duration of the cruise. The gentleman was retired from a state government post and they had moved to Mississippi to be near their son and his family. He was very cordial, but I though her quite cold. Perhaps she did not approve of his conversation with the pretty tall blond in the red dress.
Our next port was Cozumel. This is a very nice port and has very beautiful beaches. Once again, I have been in this port before and did not want to explore it alone. I bikini'd and SPF 50'd and went up to the pool deck. The deck was almost deserted, very sunny and hot. There was live music and a number of contests. One was the hairy chest contest which was very funny. I struck up a conversation with a woman from Houston. Christi was her name. She was in her early 40's and had 2 natural and 4 adopted children. She was very interesting to converse with. She was studying to be a councelor and was very spiritual and philosophical. One never knows who one might meet on a cruise, sometimes no one, sometimes someone very interesting.
That evening I had dinner in the cafeteria and went to the comedy club and then to the piano bar. I dressed up for the piano bar. There was a single gentleman that arrived after I did and he sat beside me. I found him attractive. He was tall, slim, about my age, with a full head of wavy dark hair. He was from Oregon. He was very attracted to me, but an impossibly difficult and boring conversationalist. I had to drag out every word from him until we struck on the fact that he had three vintage muscle cars. Unfortunately, that was the only topic he could discourse and I lost interest and retired to my room. I returned later to find him absent. I did meet him again outside of the elevators the last morning before disembarkation but he continued to be tongue tied. Oh well. I wished him safe travels home and that was that.
The next day at sea was windy and rainy and cold. I did have two amusing incidents on the cruise that I can recount. The first was while at the cafeteria for breakfast. I was sitting at my table gazing out the window and the wind was really picking up. The chairs and tables on the outside of the glass, in the elements, began to blow aft. A couple near the window noticed an unattended tray with cups and dishes on it beginning to work its way off one of the tables. The man opened the door and stepped out on deck. He was very surprised at the force of the wind and quickly hunched over to make a smaller profile. He managed to rescue the tray but realized he would have to back his way to the door in his hunched position. I knew he would not be able to open the door and hold on to the tray successfully in that wind. So I went to the door and opened it for him. It would have made for a great video.
The other incident happened with the cabin steward in day two, I believe. I had just stepped out of the shower when the bathroom door opened and there he was! He shrieked and ran out the cabin door. I laughed long and hard about it, but one does not wish to have their nakedness greeted with a shriek. I payed a prank on him by laying out my clothes on the bed as if I were in it. He must have had a start the first time he entered the cabin to clean. He would make up the bed and very carefully lay the clothes back in place just as if I was there. I never saw him again after the shrieking incident.
The disembarkation process in Galveston was amazingly quick and smooth. I was back at the RV by 2:00 PM. The weather was clear and cool.
Those are the highlights. I can only tell you that it was a good cruise, but from experience I can say that cruises are best enjoyed with a special someone, family or friends. They really are not meant for the single traveler. This one may be my last for a long time. I do love cruising though and hope that my fortunes will improve regarding a travel mate.
This was a long letter for a short cruise. I hope you enjoyed reliving it with me.
The Cruise
The drive from Corpus to Galveston started out pleasant, a little cool, but sunny. As I got closer to Galveston, the weather turned rainy, cold and windy. The ship, Carnival Cruise Lines Ecstasy, was late coming into port because of dense fog and the boarding passengers had to wait in line outside the terminal in the wind and cold. The rain had stopped by then. We waited about an hour and then the doors opened to let us in. I was only a dozen people from the door and the line stretched for blocks. As I approached the entrance, a security lady stopped me and told me I had to check my bag at the other end of the terminal, but she would let me cut back into line when I returned. I had a long cold walk both ways and got some pretty dirty looks when I went to the head of the line.
The wait in the terminal was another two hours. I amused myself with watching a group of older women playing bridge. They were quite lively and talkative, so the time passed quickly. The actual boarding process went very fast. I dropped my carry-on bag at my room and my checked bag was waiting just outside the door. The room, an interior cabin, was spacious and lovely. I suppose it seemed much larger than it was because I live in 360 square feet inside my RV. The bath was large and brilliantly lit, immaculately clean and gorgeous. There was abundant closet space.
I unpacked and stowed my bags and headed to the Lido Deck for a late lunch. The cafeteria style facility was very comfortable, well staffed and the food was good. This restaurant takes up the entire aft third of the deck with floor to ceiling windows on both sides. The food was quite good. The deli was excellent.
I was pretty tired after the drive and long wait at the terminal, so I decided to take my rest. The bed was turned down with chocolate hearts placed by the pillow and a very creative white swan shaped from a bath towel greeted me. Throughout the voyage, more towel creatures appeared. There was an octopus, stingray, walrus, and an elephant. My cabin steward was excellent in keeping my room made up and clean.
I spent the next day, a day at sea, exploring the ship. I had a nice breakfast in one of the two formal restaurants, lunch in the cafeteria, and dinner in the cafeteria. The shops were open and I did a little shopping. I had my e-book reader and found a comfy spot to read next to the piano player. It was still too cool and cloudy to be out on deck in the elements. Being rested I took in a show in the evening and then spent some time in the piano bar listening to the requests. Lorraine was very good at playing and singing, and was very bubbly and lively. It was nice.
The next day we arrived in port in Progreso, Mexico. I had been in this port before and did not feel like seeing it again alone. The pool deck was sunny and warm, so I put on my bikini and designer sun glasses and headed for a deck chair. The deck was not crowded so I had no problem leaving my chair to fetch lunch and beverages without any risk of losing the chair. I had a very relaxing day. In the evening, we had the first formal dinner and I dressed and went to the dining room. It was the only evening that I went to the dining room. Three of the four table mates did not speak English, being from Bolivia, however one woman was a transplant to Houston and we had a nice conversation. I met her again later on the aft deck and we chatted again. I have forgotten her name already. She had been an ER nurse, married a Scotsman and had a daughter. She loved the USA and had been here for forty years. She was retired and the Scotsman had returned to Scotland to finish out his years. I thought that unusual.
After dinner I attended another show, changed into another dress and went to one of the many clubs to listen to the music and have a drink. I spoke to a couple that had noticed me waiting in the terminal, They were glad that I was not among the "old ladies." I replied that I would have been pleased if I was. They would have been excellent company. I never saw them again, the duration of the cruise. The gentleman was retired from a state government post and they had moved to Mississippi to be near their son and his family. He was very cordial, but I though her quite cold. Perhaps she did not approve of his conversation with the pretty tall blond in the red dress.
Our next port was Cozumel. This is a very nice port and has very beautiful beaches. Once again, I have been in this port before and did not want to explore it alone. I bikini'd and SPF 50'd and went up to the pool deck. The deck was almost deserted, very sunny and hot. There was live music and a number of contests. One was the hairy chest contest which was very funny. I struck up a conversation with a woman from Houston. Christi was her name. She was in her early 40's and had 2 natural and 4 adopted children. She was very interesting to converse with. She was studying to be a councelor and was very spiritual and philosophical. One never knows who one might meet on a cruise, sometimes no one, sometimes someone very interesting.
That evening I had dinner in the cafeteria and went to the comedy club and then to the piano bar. I dressed up for the piano bar. There was a single gentleman that arrived after I did and he sat beside me. I found him attractive. He was tall, slim, about my age, with a full head of wavy dark hair. He was from Oregon. He was very attracted to me, but an impossibly difficult and boring conversationalist. I had to drag out every word from him until we struck on the fact that he had three vintage muscle cars. Unfortunately, that was the only topic he could discourse and I lost interest and retired to my room. I returned later to find him absent. I did meet him again outside of the elevators the last morning before disembarkation but he continued to be tongue tied. Oh well. I wished him safe travels home and that was that.
The next day at sea was windy and rainy and cold. I did have two amusing incidents on the cruise that I can recount. The first was while at the cafeteria for breakfast. I was sitting at my table gazing out the window and the wind was really picking up. The chairs and tables on the outside of the glass, in the elements, began to blow aft. A couple near the window noticed an unattended tray with cups and dishes on it beginning to work its way off one of the tables. The man opened the door and stepped out on deck. He was very surprised at the force of the wind and quickly hunched over to make a smaller profile. He managed to rescue the tray but realized he would have to back his way to the door in his hunched position. I knew he would not be able to open the door and hold on to the tray successfully in that wind. So I went to the door and opened it for him. It would have made for a great video.
The other incident happened with the cabin steward in day two, I believe. I had just stepped out of the shower when the bathroom door opened and there he was! He shrieked and ran out the cabin door. I laughed long and hard about it, but one does not wish to have their nakedness greeted with a shriek. I payed a prank on him by laying out my clothes on the bed as if I were in it. He must have had a start the first time he entered the cabin to clean. He would make up the bed and very carefully lay the clothes back in place just as if I was there. I never saw him again after the shrieking incident.
The disembarkation process in Galveston was amazingly quick and smooth. I was back at the RV by 2:00 PM. The weather was clear and cool.
Those are the highlights. I can only tell you that it was a good cruise, but from experience I can say that cruises are best enjoyed with a special someone, family or friends. They really are not meant for the single traveler. This one may be my last for a long time. I do love cruising though and hope that my fortunes will improve regarding a travel mate.
This was a long letter for a short cruise. I hope you enjoyed reliving it with me.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
That Day
I remember that day on the train to Pittsburgh
With my hand in my daddy's palm
Walking down that long aisle trying not to look
Into all of those strangers tired dry eyes
And being completely uninterested in their brown and black shoes
Daddy opening the door between the cars and feeling the wind in my hair
The little coal drawing fire in my belly yearning for the dining car
Maybe a hamburger and a milkshake might find me there
Where the white linen table cloths swayed with the music of the clack
As that train to Pittsburgh rolled on down the track
Past the grey inverted lives of those passed by
On my way to an Aunt missing one unknown uncle
Whom I had never seen before except in a sepia tone matte with black corner tabs
In the red book next to the nut cracker and the porcelain lamp
A Christmas apparition in a babushka as black as smelters coke
But I didn't know the train was taking me to a time and place
That would never again see the light or hear the whistle, feel the rumble, or smell the smoke
There was nothing but the little hand that held so close and felt so safe attached at the end of my fathers arm
With my hand in my daddy's palm
Walking down that long aisle trying not to look
Into all of those strangers tired dry eyes
And being completely uninterested in their brown and black shoes
Daddy opening the door between the cars and feeling the wind in my hair
The little coal drawing fire in my belly yearning for the dining car
Maybe a hamburger and a milkshake might find me there
Where the white linen table cloths swayed with the music of the clack
As that train to Pittsburgh rolled on down the track
Past the grey inverted lives of those passed by
On my way to an Aunt missing one unknown uncle
Whom I had never seen before except in a sepia tone matte with black corner tabs
In the red book next to the nut cracker and the porcelain lamp
A Christmas apparition in a babushka as black as smelters coke
But I didn't know the train was taking me to a time and place
That would never again see the light or hear the whistle, feel the rumble, or smell the smoke
There was nothing but the little hand that held so close and felt so safe attached at the end of my fathers arm
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
God's Mirror
I looked into God's mirror tonight and I am not sure why
It was the first time I was ever allowed to do that
And there you were, standing behind those blue cat eyes
That melted my heart so many years ago, or maybe it was just a moment past
Or so it seemed to me then, looking through God's good glass
At a miracle that needed no light to delineate the love from the smudge
That filled my eyes and fogged the memory of why you were gone so long
In a place that I could never be and was always running from
And how you ever found your way to smile at me again
Your gentleness and kindness closer than the ring in my back pocket
That you kept for me in the hopes of something that might just never be
Even if there had never been a me and all that I believed
There in my dark despair for only did you know we shared the same prayer
And tonight in God's mirror, I saw you standing there
It was the first time I was ever allowed to do that
And there you were, standing behind those blue cat eyes
That melted my heart so many years ago, or maybe it was just a moment past
Or so it seemed to me then, looking through God's good glass
At a miracle that needed no light to delineate the love from the smudge
That filled my eyes and fogged the memory of why you were gone so long
In a place that I could never be and was always running from
And how you ever found your way to smile at me again
Your gentleness and kindness closer than the ring in my back pocket
That you kept for me in the hopes of something that might just never be
Even if there had never been a me and all that I believed
There in my dark despair for only did you know we shared the same prayer
And tonight in God's mirror, I saw you standing there
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Thoughts
She knew that he had been thinking as he sat in the big leather wing back chair. He always thought in that chair and he took his time there carefully. She paused in the doorway to see if he might speak.
"I could hurt you," he said. His eyes weren't sad.
"No, you could not do that," she said.
"Why?" He smiled, "What would stop me?"
"You know what would happen," she smiled in return.
He was smirking now, "What? Would you press charges?"
"No, I would not have to do that. You know what would happen." Her voice, like music, filled the room.
"Tell me," he said, almost serious.
She moved to take hold of his strong hands. They were wonderful hands, like the paws of a great bear yet she could hold them easily. He was waiting.
She looked into his warm eyes. "God will take me from you and then your heart will break like that wine glass into an infinite number of sharp pieces and he will fling them out to the universe."
"Oh," he smiled. "And how will I ever feel alive again?"
"The only way," she said, "Will be to stand in my gardens beneath a clear night sky and search the multitudes for each tiny shard and as you pluck them one by one from the heavens they will cut you and make you bleed and make you wish you had never been born."
"Yes," he laughed. Leaning forward he sweetly kissed her. "That is exactly what I have been thinking."
"I could hurt you," he said. His eyes weren't sad.
"No, you could not do that," she said.
"Why?" He smiled, "What would stop me?"
"You know what would happen," she smiled in return.
He was smirking now, "What? Would you press charges?"
"No, I would not have to do that. You know what would happen." Her voice, like music, filled the room.
"Tell me," he said, almost serious.
She moved to take hold of his strong hands. They were wonderful hands, like the paws of a great bear yet she could hold them easily. He was waiting.
She looked into his warm eyes. "God will take me from you and then your heart will break like that wine glass into an infinite number of sharp pieces and he will fling them out to the universe."
"Oh," he smiled. "And how will I ever feel alive again?"
"The only way," she said, "Will be to stand in my gardens beneath a clear night sky and search the multitudes for each tiny shard and as you pluck them one by one from the heavens they will cut you and make you bleed and make you wish you had never been born."
"Yes," he laughed. Leaning forward he sweetly kissed her. "That is exactly what I have been thinking."
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