This year we moved our family vacation from Rehoboth to Ocean City. We needed more space than a hotel "suite" could provide. We kept the same week because it is probably the least crowded week of the year. While all the Maryland and Delaware children are back at school, those of us who waited all summer are enjoying a sparser OC. Good things come to those who wait!
Getting here was a dream come true. There was barely any traffic. The ride I expected could take us as long as four hours was accomplished in less than three. Getting the key from the real estate agent was easily done. Moving into the condo was great as this place had tons of carts and lots of staff to keep the process orderly. Lots of staff. And lots of rules. And lots of staff to make sure you obey lots of rules. I'm good with it. The first night here, a fight started with a loud bunch of drinkers. The staff broke it up immediately; I think they're all ex-marines.
Anyhow, I was feeling very lucky that things were going so nicely. And in beach tradition, it was confirmed that I am lucky. First day on the beach a seagull plopped one big hunk of poop on my back. Everybody we've laughingly told the story to has said the same thing, That's really lucky. I believe it.
Today was an amazing day. Since I broke my leg five years ago, I have had issues with leg strength, bad knees, vertigo, going up and down steps, and my leg just collapsing on me. I don't know if this stuff is related to the broken leg, but I've noticed these symptoms since then. The summer I broke my leg, I, my sister, her daughters, and a friend of hers rented a condo at the beach. I couldn't go. I was wheelchair bound and it was just too difficult to get me there. I was bereft as they loaded up the car and drove to MY vacation. I didn't get to the beach once that year or the next year as I was still slowly recovering from my second broken leg.
When I did get back to annually visiting the beach, we'd stay at Rehoboth. We had a great time, but something was missing for me. I couldn't get in and out of the ocean without falling repeatedly. It terrified me when I couldn't get up without assistance. That was the end of my going into the Atlantic Ocean. It broke my heart. My beach buddy Dottie and I no longer took those bi-weekly day trips to the ocean. I resigned myself to spending the rest of my aquatic life in a pool.
But I was lucky. Really lucky today. All the conditions were right and I ventured into the sea. No deep dips in the sand. Long gaps of time between each smacking wave so I could avoid my knees being attacked and me falling over. Before I knew it, I was bobbing on the waves. I was spitting out salt water. My sister taught my nieces how to body surf and I was able to join them. It was heaven. And like I used to do when I was young, I stayed in the water for hours. I am so thankful to have enjoyed this experience! I was convinced that I was never, ever getting back together with my mermaid self. But today, I swam in the ocean. For me, this was a miracle. Can you imagine the joy of doing something you love that you thought was forever lost to you? To quote Cathy from The Big C , "Lucky me."
But, I even got luckier! Dee and I visited the casino. It was either that or just throw money off the balcony and into the fly-infested wind. We figured the casino would be more fun. I actually won $30!! Me, a winner. Imagine that.
It's supposed to rain on Wednesday. Oh well. As the saying goes, even a bad day at the beach is better than a good day at the office. And how!
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Call Me Maybe
A recent event had me examining my cell phone use and my lack of interest in investing in a super phone. Seems like I am totally out of touch with the 21st century. And you know what? I don't give a damn.
My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days. I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00. He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00. Had he been late leaving the house? Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it. You see, my phone was dead. I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was. Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls. It was a forty-five minute drive. When I got to my house, all the lights were on. My friend had let him and my niece into the house. He was apoplectic with anger. He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged. He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc. I told him to get out of my f-g house. Seriously? He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone?? Whatever happened to common sense? Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point? He knew I was there. Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there? The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????
Because I don't use it that much. Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody. I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me. Who needs that nonsense?
Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries. And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone. If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having. I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone. It's dangerous, and it is rude! If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group? Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say? I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage. Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.
So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy. Frankly, I'm fine with it. After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged. We'll see how that goes. Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world. And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake.
Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells? If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone. But please, don't call my cell to talk about it. Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.
My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days. I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00. He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00. Had he been late leaving the house? Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it. You see, my phone was dead. I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was. Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls. It was a forty-five minute drive. When I got to my house, all the lights were on. My friend had let him and my niece into the house. He was apoplectic with anger. He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged. He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc. I told him to get out of my f-g house. Seriously? He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone?? Whatever happened to common sense? Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point? He knew I was there. Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there? The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????
Because I don't use it that much. Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody. I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me. Who needs that nonsense?
Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries. And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone. If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having. I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone. It's dangerous, and it is rude! If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group? Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say? I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage. Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.
So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy. Frankly, I'm fine with it. After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged. We'll see how that goes. Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world. And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake.
Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells? If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone. But please, don't call my cell to talk about it. Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Psychics
My sister has scheduled a psychic party (I don't know what else to call it) at her house in September. A psychic, whom some of the women have already met, comes to the house and gives everybody a half hour reading for a set fee. I have wavered about attending. At sixty, how much life do I have left for her to predict? And what if all there is to see in my future is more boring stuff? Do I really want to pay money to confirm more of the same?
I used to have a fascination with psychics. Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing. Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love. Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it. In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.
The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare. So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by. The woman was adamant about my future job prospects. She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday. She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job. After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday. The rest, as you know, is history. Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child. That never happened. Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.
I sought advice about the men in my life. One in particular really had my heart. The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right. Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him. He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous. Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.
Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics. I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading. I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing. I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud. But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards. I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me. So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.
I'll go to the psychic party. I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures. I already know that stuff. I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic: Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future? And is he straight?
I used to have a fascination with psychics. Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing. Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love. Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it. In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.
The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare. So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by. The woman was adamant about my future job prospects. She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday. She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job. After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday. The rest, as you know, is history. Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child. That never happened. Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.
I sought advice about the men in my life. One in particular really had my heart. The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right. Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him. He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous. Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.
Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics. I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading. I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing. I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud. But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards. I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me. So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.
I'll go to the psychic party. I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures. I already know that stuff. I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic: Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future? And is he straight?
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