Tuesday, May 29, 2018

REAL Heroes

I have long said that we, as a nation, need to have a conversation about who our heroes should be.

By definition, a hero is a person who is "admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities".  To me, enlisting (or being drafted) into the military to serve one's country doesn't automatically make one a hero.  That makes him/her an employee.

So many times, people who find themselves in treacherous circumstances that turn out well and are labeled as heroes, will say, "I was just doing my job".  I really respect that.  It means, "I signed up for this.  Was trained for it.  Planned for it.  And did it."
As the saying goes, heroes are made, not born.  
And if the job happens to be dangerous by nature--policemen, firemen, electrical linemen, soldiers, sailors, pilots, farmers, crab fishermen, etc.--we just consider danger as part of the job.  It's only when these people go above and beyond what is required of them that they can achieve hero status, in my book.

Just this past week, the news reported a couple of cases of what I would call REAL heroes.

DATELINE:  Noblesville, IN.
A 13-year-old 7th grader asked to leave a testing situation in his middle school science class to go to the restroom.  He returned with one or more hand guns and started firing.  The teacher, Mr. Jason Seaman, rushed the student and tackled him, managing to knock the gun out of his hand and holding him down.  He yelled for the class to run out of the class as fast as they could, and for someone to call 911.  He detained the shooter, but not before a female student was shot, and he himself took three bullets.

Mr. Seaman is out of the hospital now, in good condition, and showing up in public in support of the young lady that was shot (who is listed in critical-but-stable condition).  He is quite uncomfortable with all of the attention that he is receiving for potentially saving the lives of many students.  He wants people to know that what he did was the only acceptable thing that he could have done.  Everyone who knows him personally says it's just the way he is.  HE doesn't think he's a hero.  HE thinks he just did the only thing he could do to save his students.

IS he a hero?  You betcha!  When he signed his contract to teach science and coach football for a middle school in Central Indiana, it probably never crossed his mind that, someday, he would be the only thing between his students and death.  If my child were in that classroom that day, I would be eternally grateful for his courage.  (Mr. Seaman, by the way, is an Illinois transplant, raised on the prairies of IL not all that far from where I grew up.  Makes me doubly proud!)

DATELINE: France.
Just this past week, a video appeared on the Internet that showed another act of pure heroism.
A young child dangled over the edge of an apartment balcony in Paris, four stories up.  A man from Mali--an illegal immigrant to France--jumped up and climbed the four stories of balconies on the outside of the building, with the pure brute strength of his arms, in time to save the child from falling.
I've watched the video many times and am still in awe.
What if he slipped?
What if both he and the child had fallen?
What was he thinking??
France is grateful.  France is calling him a real-life Spiderman, and has given him a fast track to citizenship.  And I'm pretty sure that the parents of the child are pretty happy with him, too.
Yes, I consider him a hero.  (I also consider him somewhat crazy!)

These are REAL heroes.  Not just people who are called heroes because they willingly took on a dangerous job, even in the service of others.  Sorry if I seem like such a grinch.  I just think we are throwing around the term in a meaningless way. 
   


Saturday, May 26, 2018

First Anniversary of My Diet

Just about a year ago, I got to the point that I needed to do something about my weight.
According to my cardiologist, I was "at risk" for diabetes (something I already knew).
I couldn't reach my feet to cut my own toenails, requiring $30 pedicures every couple of months.
I couldn't bend over without cutting off my breath.
The fold-down trays on airplanes cut into my gut.
I couldn't reach my own posterior to get clean in showers or bathroom trips.  (TMI!)
People who hadn't seen me since childhood didn't recognize the fat me.
I absolutely hated having pictures taken of me because I just looked bloated and fat.
I started having dreams that I was miraculously thin again, but no such miracles happen overnight.
Of all the things that are/were wrong with me, this was one I could control.

Of course, I used the excuse that I got no physical exercise to assist with any weight-loss program.  That part is true.  The part that isn't true is the notion that one has to be physically active in order to lose weight.  It only requires that you "eat less, move more" according to my doctor.  (Easy for him to say!)  Still, the spectre of developing diabetes in my old age was frightening enough that I decided it was time to DO SOMETHING.

I did Weight Watchers with my mother back in the early 80s.  Those were the days when servings and meals were dictated--5 fish meals per week, no more than 3 servings of hard cheese per week, no more than 3 red meat meals per week, 1 serving of liver,  3 servings of dairy per day, 7 servings of vegetables and fruits per day, etc.  It was a totally balanced diet, nutritionally, but many people couldn't do the fish and liver thing.  I lost weight on it but didn't ever come close to a goal before I gave up in favor of just eating "normally".

I did Weight Watchers again with my daughter in the early 2000s.  By this time, the diet had changed to watching points that were assigned to foods based on fiber, calories, and fat.  We both lost weight on that, too....but eventually caved back to old eating habits.

Fast forward to last year.  My daughter, now living 2,000 miles away, was again doing WW with her husband.  She had lost 40 pounds through hard work.  It was at that point that I said, "If she can do it, I can do it, too."  WW had evolved into yet another program.  I don't have the funds to pay for meetings and membership, but I DO have all of the literature from the old program that had once worked for me.  I spent a couple of days setting myself up, then launched on watching what I eat.

One year later, I have lost 34 pounds.
I have NOT felt deprived.   I eat what I like, in moderation, and count everything that goes into my mouth.  I DO feed occasional cravings.  That helps to create the mind-set that I am not being robbed of the stuff I love.

I have given up the notion that weight loss needs to be fast.  If I only lose a few ounces in a week, it is that many ounces that my heart and my joints don't have to handle.

I have come to understand and accept that this is not a diet battle; it is a way of life.  After all these years, I finally comprehend that feeding my face is not the same as feeding my soul.  I will need to be accountable to my dietary needs for the rest of my life.  (At one time, that was absolutely the worst thought I could have.  Be on a diet forever?  Nooooo!)  Self-indulgence is not a reward but a weakness.

Since I don't have the support of other dieters in meetings, I rely on my daughter and friend Judy for inspiration.  I haven't allowed myself to accept the "I blew my diet so I might as well go hog-crazy" mentality.

I can now cut my own toenails.  Keeping clean is easier.  The airplane tables have space between them and my belly.  I am between sizes in clothes (which is problematic but welcome).  I still have many pounds to go before I can consider myself successful in my weight loss program, but I am no longer afraid of snapshot pictures.

Bottom line:  I am proud of myself.
Living alone has its pitfalls about dieting (no one to tell me not to eat something), but also many advantages.  I can control what goes into my recipes and my mouth.  No one around to complain if what I fix doesn't meet with taste standards because I substituted something to make a recipe lighter.

If I live another year, maybe I will be another 30 pounds thinner.  Want to take bets??     

Friday, May 25, 2018

Make America Hate Again?

I don't usually delve into politics in this blog because I am naive and, compared to those who follow politics closely, relatively uninformed.  Were I to get into a political discussion (translate: argument) with political pundits, I would feel unarmed.  My only claim in the political arena is, as with art, I know what I like.

I am, however, a critical thinker.  No one tells me what to believe.  I do that homework for myself.  I once considered myself an independent voter.  I still do, but the Republican Party has ventured so far from what I feel is right and just and of importance to the zillions of us who are not millionaires that I no longer vote Republican.  Unless the GOP gets real, I won't vote in that direction again.  I guess that makes me a Democrat.  Long ago, I came to understand that people on the right and people on the left (Republicans and Democrats) simply are not wired the same.  Their brains and their values and their behaviors just don't match.  And that is something I DO know something about.

I've spent much time in my life studying why people do what they do, and why they think what they think.  Therein lies my interest in politics, and ONLY that.  When Donald Trump declared a campaign for the US Presidency, and then announced that Mike Pence, the Governor of Indiana, would be his running mate, I was relieved.  I just knew that Trump couldn't win, and having Pence on his slate would rid Indiana (where I live) of a governor that took us back 50 years in laws.  I was wrong.  Trump/Pence won.  Thus, I have spent the past year trying to figure out what happened to America that "we" got totally hoodwinked by a narcissistic fraud.  (I wonder if Germany wondered the same thing when an insane Hitler came to power....)

Trump's campaign slogan was "Make America Great Again".  Right off the bat, I had to ask, "When was America not great"?  What could Donald Trump possibly bring to us that we didn't already have?  Apparently, I misjudged the fear of those who feel that something is being taken from them by government.  Welfare?  Fraud!  Food stamps?  Fraud!  Immigrants?  Not welcome!  Control over female reproductive systems?  Not our problem!  Controlling access to guns?  How dare you suggest that we should be restricted in our Constitutional rights!  Funding for veterans?  They are heroes, no matter what!  Homelessness?  Their own fault!  Drug addiction, homosexuality, obesity?  All a personal choice!  Any religion except Christian?  Infidels and unable to be trusted! And so it goes.  All of this doesn't make America "great again".  It takes America back 50 years or more.  Probably more than my lifetime, in fact.

Hate crimes in America have increased considerably under the Trump administration.  I once believed that we, as a country, had moved beyond most of the prejudice.  Once again, I was naively wrong.  Prejudice isn't gone.  It's just been masked.  The election of Donald Trump seemed to give folks energy to act on their discriminatory behaviors.  (In fact, many of those who have been filmed with hateful actions credit Trump with their newfound freedom to do so.)  This isn't something that Trump caused.  It is something that has always been there, but Trump created an environment that made it okay.

So, as of today, I'm not so encouraged to believe in the intelligence of America or Americans.  All I see out of the Trump administration is power and hate.  Doesn't work for me.  But guess what?  I won't be alive all that much longer.  Americans need to understand that we are all in this together.  We may disagree, but it is time to stop being divisive and get the hate out.  I'm all for Make America Safe Again!!!! 



Monday, May 21, 2018

Numbers In My Head

For the last two days, I have been messing around trying to get on the Duke Energy website in order to pay my electric bill.  Duke, in its wisdom, decided to change the website in order to make it "easier" to manage my account online.  What's to manage??  I log on, and I pay the bill.  Period.  But for this current "improvement", I had to change User Name and Password...plus set a PIN, and choose THREE security questions.  Huh?  Why??  There were buttons to highlight that were mostly invisible to me because they were in light blue and not mentioned in print.  I finally got it done, but gee whiz!  Again, why??

In the process of setting things up, I became aware of all of the numbers floating around in my brain.
I have a friend who is blind.  He wasn't born that way but is a victim of genetic retinitis pigmentosa.  In adjusting to his somewhat-gradual inability to see, he learned to rely on his memory for information.  I am in awe of this.  He told me one time that it is sometimes difficult for him to get rid of OLD information in his head in favor of NEW stuff.  And now I understand what he meant.  In the process of setting up this new demand from Duke Energy, I became aware that I have all kinds of old info in my head.  Most of them are numbers.  If you were to ask me what they are, I would only be able to answer if I weren't trying to recall them.  They are rote memory.

For example, I know my Social Security number by heart.  I can rattle it off quickly if no one asks what it is...but occasionally, someone official will ask me the last four numbers of it just to verify my identity, and I have to run the entire number in my head before getting to the last four.  I hope I'm not the only one who has to do this.  It's like having to run the whole alphabet in the head just to see what comes after "P"...

So what other numbers are in my brain?
My bank account number, because it used to be required to sign into their website.
Phone numbers.  Oh, my, yes!  My sister's phone number is in there, as is my home phone, and my friend Judy's.  Beyond that is the phone number for our house in Oak Park, IL, where we moved in 1958.  I remember it because the Chicago area had word-prefixes.  Oak Park was EUclid-3 or EUclid-6.  Our number was EU3-3101, which eventually changed to all numbers:  383-3101.   My grandparents' phone number, which later became my parents' number when they moved there, is still in the memory banks:  672-3883.  Unfortunately, all of these newfangled cell phone numbers change so often that I don't have my family's cell numbers in my head.  I finally managed to memorize my OWN cell number, but I don't use my cell phone for calls very often.  (Sadly, most cell phone users rely on the phones to store the numbers, since there is no phone book in which to look them up.  Take away their phones, and they are helpless to call anyone for help.) 
The prisoner number for Jean Valjean in Les Miserables: 24601.
The numbers associated with TV shows:  Hawaii 50, Beverly Hills 90210, etc.
Birthdays.  Even some birthdates for people who have passed.  January 5.  January 15.  February 2.  February 20.  March 2.  March 25.  April 6. April 23.  May 5.  May 17.  August 4.  August 6.  September 23.  October 31.  November 13.  December 7.  December 23. 
Addresses and Zip Codes.  I don't do quite so well with all of these.  I THINK I finally have my daughter's address and Zip Code from memory because I have sent many boxes of stuff their way, but I still check to make sure. 

Heck, I can't remember where I put my glasses half the time, so why do I remember the stuff that just isn't needed anymore??  My parents and grandparents have all passed.  Why do I still recall everything that I no longer need when I can't remember the stuff I WANT to remember????

So, what numbers are rolling around in YOUR head?  Rotsa ruck figuring that out!

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Casualties and Logistics

For my last trip to Seattle in November/December of last year, I bought one of those horseshoe-shaped neck pillows so I could sleep on the plane.  I actually didn't sleep on the plane but figured I might this latest trip, so I took it with me.  I actually used it more as a buffer for my elbow which was wearing a spot in my arm at the window seat.  I don't know how/when it happened, but the silly pillow did not make it off the plane with me.  I just suddenly noticed that it was no longer with me.  It was a $12 purchase--certainly NOT worth the effort to drive back to Seattle from Bothell to locate it.  Hope whoever has it now enjoys it.  I'll get another one next trip.

This trip, since I had a companion, we took a motel rather than interrupt family routine trying to figure out where to put two visitors.  It cost a bunch more, which limits future trips, but the motel was great and probably only a quarter mile from my daughter's house.  There were considerations, however.  I usually take my laptop computer wherever I go.  This time, the question was where to put it?  My original thought was to set it up at Meg's house and leave it there...and I did that several times, but it was a pain.  Finally, Meg said that they could set up a laptop at their house for me to use, but almost at the same time, my grandson wanted to use it at school.  Frankly, we were so busy that I probably didn't even need to have it with me, but I feel naked without it.  In the end, it stayed at the motel while I was gone from there.  There just was no time.

There were other considerations.  Leaving the motel in the morning meant that we probably wouldn't be back there until bedtime.  What would we need in between?  I need breathing treatments with a nebulizer, so it went back and forth with me.  So did my make-up and my wig, Jeannie, and my sudoku puzzle book.  And my little packs of Kleenex, my motel room key, some cough drops, etc.  I did the countdown every day before I left the motel.  It worked.

The only other casualty of the trip happened at the last minute.  As we were packing our stuff to check out of the motel (Red Lion Inn and Suites), I couldn't find my room key card.  I'd had it the night before, so unless it got stuck on the bottom of something Denis took home that night, it had to be there, somewhere.  But it wasn't.  The room had a small kitchen area with a counter.  I always put the card on the counter at night before going to bed.  That morning, it was nowhere to be found.  Got all the way home to Indianapolis when it appeared.  It had somehow become shuffled into the pages of my Les Mis program.  'Tis only a useless souvenir now!

And so, another lovely vacation is in the books.  I hope my family isn't the worse for wear.  Meg is sick, so what does that tell you??

Friday, May 18, 2018

Seattle Trip, Part Two

Something I did not address in my previous post but was prevalent for our entire visit to the Pacific Northwest was the weather.  Typically, the Seattle area weather is driven by the mountains and the ocean.  It is not as hot in the summer as in the Midwest, nor as cold in the winter.  Precipitation is usually in the form of rain or drizzle daily, except in the summer (which the locals say starts on July 5th).  Thereafter, there are beautiful days for a couple of months before it all starts over again.  In terms of climate, our visit was the exception rather than the rule.  But for one day that had sprinkles in the morning, we had sunny days and warm temperatures.  In fact, two of those days broke records for warmth.  In short, the weather gods smiled on the two grandmothers from Indiana!

The other feature that I found most stunning during our visit was the sparkling beauty of the flora.  The rhododendrons were all in bloom, as were roses and every other kind of flowering shrub imaginable.  Indiana is green right now, but Seattle was more than just green; it was vibrant with color.  Everywhere.  Splash all of that color in bright and welcome sunshine and the result is so very mood lifting.  In a word, it was gorgeous.  I think my co-grandma companion was impressed.  I know I was, and I've been there before!

Now back to the highlights of our days.

Friday, May 11th:     
Friday was kind of a do-nothing day.  After supper, Robin was delivered back to school for her cast call before Les Miserables.  We left for the school at 5:45 for a 7:00 PM show, and got the same preferential treatment from the Producer that we had before.  She was largely in charge of special seating and remembered us from the night before.  As expected, the performance was exceptional.  Even better than the night before.

As we waited after the show for Robin to get out of costume, etc., the Producer (whose name is Katharina) came and sat beside me in the hallway to ask what I thought of the show.   In our brief conversation, she told me that before they decided to do Les Mis, they had a mini-audition to see if they had young men with the vocal ranges needed for the lead parts of Jean Valjean (high range) and Javert (low range).  As it happened, they had 20 boys try out.  They were able to cast a Valjean and Javert from that.  Both very strong voices.  It worked!

After collecting Robin, we went to Applebee's for unwinding (Robin's request).  Some of us had food; some had snacks.  It was all good.  Then home to deposit the grandmothers at their motel and send the rest home to bed.  What a great day!

Saturday, May 12th: 
This was a catch-up day.  Denis offered to take us to Microsoft in Redmond, along with Ryan, so we could spend some time with our grandson.  Robin was allowed to sleep in, and Meg had some alone time, too.  Thus, the two grandmas and Ryan and Denis went to Microsoft.

A word here about the place.  Microsoft is a huge campus of over 110 buildings.  The company  maintains play areas for employees and their families.  They also keep a well-stocked place called The Garage, which consists of a couple of rooms with everything you could ever want by way of a place to tinker with things.

We started out in the ping-pong room.  Denis and Ryan played a game, then it was my turn.  I used to be pretty good at ping-pong.  Haven't played since the Muncie, Indiana, days before I became disabled in the back, but I determined that I was sure going to try.  Ryan and I did a bunch of practice volleys, then played an actual game.  I let him win, of course, because I felt sorry for him.  Wink, wink.  But he didn't win by that much.  Suffice it to say that I think he was impressed with my skills, and that's all that mattered to me.  Had we time to play more, I MIGHT have won.  (That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

Then we went to the foosball room.  Denis and Ryan played a game, then it was Grandma Judy's turn.  She had never played before but gave it a valiant attempt.  She lost to the one with the greater skill...but she was playing with her grandson.  How often does that happen??

Shortly thereafter, because there was another purpose to being there (to scan some stuff that Judy wanted to send to family), we went to The Garage.  Wow!  What a place!  My brain couldn't soak it all up.  The rooms are set up for tinkering.  They are supplied with 3-D printers, soldering irons, sewing machines, oscilloscopes, Cricut cutters--you name it.  And even the consumables needed are supplied.  Need something?  Write it on the board and it will appear.  Can you imagine?  The whole idea is to encourage technology with imagination, plus provide a place for people with vision to do what they need to do to produce.  Whew!  Quite a change from my sphere of career choice!

When we went home, we were greeted with a dinner of King Crab legs and cheeseburgers, with tiny little potatoes and salad....then on to the school for the final performance of Les Miserables.  Our grandson, Ryan, who hadn't attended the other five performances was "forced" to go with us for the last one.  We were greeted, once again, by the Producer who told us that we might not have the best seating due to someone who had texted her about handicapped patrons who expected a whole row of seats.  (Meg told her we didn't mind because we could see the show from different angles, and the producer gal said she wished other people were as "easy" as we were!)  Ryan sat between the two grandmothers.  Before the show started, I tried to explain the plot to him because he hadn't watched the movie with us.  I really think he enjoyed it.  He said it was "cool".  And, of course, there were a lot of cast tears after the last performance.  The seniors were particularly emotional, as they should be.  It was all good.  Because Robin would be attending a cast party after the show, the grandmothers were delivered to the motel "early"--which was already late for us.  It was a fun day.

Sunday, May 13th:
Mother's Day.
I told Judy early that she needed to make sure her phone was on because her four children would be trying to call her this day.
I had earlier offered to take the family out for dinner, but Denis wanted to cook out:  steak and salmon slabs.  Worked for us!!

Robin had created (in the wee hours of the night before) Mother's Day cards for us with origami flowers on the front, and text in Japanese inside.  (She is taking Japanese as a class in school.)  I treasure mine.  So creative!

Part of the day was taken up with Megan using her Cricut to cut out letters for a church project that Judy and I have at home.  (I might have my days mixed up.) Another part was taken up by a short trip down the road to find a good place to see Mount Rainier.  (Wasn't all that successful.)  Another part was a trip to Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream, which we ate outside.  Yum!

Monday, May 14th:
After the children were situated in school and Denis to work, Megan, Judy, and I drove up to Snoqualmie Falls.  I have been there before without much luck of seeing the falls.  (The first time, a watch overlook was blocked off due to a search-and-rescue operation because someone had fallen or jumped.  The second time, the falls area was shrouded in fog and mostly invisible.  The third time, the falls were a veritable trickle.)  This time, however, the falls were roaring--I assume due to snow-melt on the mountains.  The mist thrown up at the bottom of the falls visibly cut off probably a third of the total drop.  Still, it was an awesome sight.  Before we left the area, we hit up the gift shop, then back down the mountain to Snoqualmie Pass.

The Pass has one (or more) ski areas, plus a small gift shop/rest area for travelers.  I've been there before, but this time there were cement barricades around the front of the shop.  Why??  To keep people safe from ice falling from the roof!  Behind the parking lot was one of the ski areas with little alpine cabins on a hill.  There were still mounds of dirty snow in the area, in spite of the fact that it was 80 degrees that day.  Interestingly, there were no little rivers of water coming from the snow.  Huh??  Where was the snow-melt going??  Saw a hummingbird at one of the feeders at the gift shop.  It was a very nice excursion.  Can't see that stuff at home!

Tuesday, May 15th:
Last day of our visit!

We went to deliver Ryan to school, but after we got there, he decided he'd rather go to Seattle with the grandmas.  (He goes to a Sudbury school.  Is free to do these things.)  We returned home to collect Megan, then onward.

Our first stop in Seattle was Pike Place Market.  I've been there during all four of my trips out there.  It's truly an experience!  The day started out cloudy, but before long, the sun came out--although not enough to reveal Mount Rainier in the distance.  We walked around and soaked up the PPM culture.  Saw fish being thrown.  Bought some trinkets.  Went to the crepe place where Judy and I shared one with Nutella and strawberry filling, with whipped cream on top.  Shared a Russian-inspired meat sandwich.  Set Grandma Judy up by taking a picture of her with a bawdy backdrop.  Saw the gum alley, etc.

Then we departed for the Space Needle.  I have nixed going there before.  It's expensive.  Probably $39 apiece for adults, $22 apiece for seniors, and maybe $19 for students, plus at least $29 for parking.  I also resisted because the elevators to get to the top are on the outside of the Needle, and I'm quite wobbly with heights.  The Needle is under construction to put glass floors on the observation areas.  The part closed off to us was the part that would have revealed Mt. Rainier on a good day, but since Rainier was occluded by clouds and haze in the distance, we couldn't have seen it anyway.

I stepped off the elevator at the top and gasped.  The view from the top was stunningly spectacular!  I had resisted in the past, not understanding what glory awaited in terms of the scene below.  Wow!  Just wow!  I told Meg that I owed her the $22 admission for me because it was a once-in-a-lifetime view that I had never seen before and never will again.  Had it been a traditionally typical Seattle weather day, the trip wouldn't have been worth it.  Thank goodness for a cloudless day!  It just blew me away!

At the end, we were sent down through the gift shop where I bought a trinket for Ryan.  Then we were off for a motor tour of Alki Beach.

Alki Beach, according to Megan, is a little slice of California.  It has a wonderful view of the Seattle skyline.  There is a paved walkway all along the beach, plus other things that make it a great place to be.  Volleyball nets.  A replica of the Statue of Liberty.  An overlook with telescopes to enjoy the view.  Expensive apartments on the shore side.  Since we were there on a work day, it wasn't crowded, but I could see how it would easily become a Place to Be on the weekends.  Beautiful!  A bald eagle flew over us in search of food.  There were also "buoys with faces" which were, of course, seals in the water.

Going home, we were somewhat trapped in Seattle rush hour traffic, but not so much that we didn't get a full-on view of Mt. Rainier, which had emerged from the haze.  What a majestic volcano it is!  We came home to stroganoff in the crock pot, then Dairy Queen offerings.  When Judy and I returned to the motel, we needed to get packed, except for the last minute things, for an early departure for Sea-Tac Airport in the morning.  All good things must come to an end, darn it!

Wednesday, May 16th:
By this time, the grandmas were largely exhausted.  We had an early call to head to the airport.  Our flight was scheduled for take-off at 9:59 AM, Pacific Time.  In spite of traffic, we were checked in and at the gate just before 8:00 AM.  For reasons known only to God, I was selected for a random extra check, targeting my computer and my phone.  It was a minor glitch but annoying. The plane was about 30 minutes late taking off because we were in a line, but the pilot was able to make up the time in the air.  Judy and I ate on the plane, so we weren't starved when we landed.

Judy alerted her husband to come for us when we landed, but there were no "pushers" to get me from the gate to the baggage claim.  It took awhile.  I think Judy was worried that Phil would be there and we wouldn't be.  The gal that finally ended up pushing me to the street was a manager and not a pusher, and wouldn't accept my tip money.  (Worked for me!  I think that's the first time anyone ever refused a tip.  She told me I had waited too long for service, so didn't owe her a thing.)

Phil showed up.  He drove me home, and the rest is history.  As we pulled up, my lawn guy was mowing.  I paid him for the mowing that happened while I was gone and on that day, then collapsed into a dead heap.

We packed many experiences into a short visit.  I'm sure my family on the Seattle end are as tired as the grandmothers are, without the age factors.  I'm just grateful for everything that happened--and didn't happen.  It was so good to see our grandchildren and my family!

Thank you, Megan and Denis for the sacrifices of time, energy, food, and financial resources to  provide a couple of old ladies with bucket list experiences.  Thank you, Robin and Ryan, for tolerating those same old ladies who, although they don't share your generation, love you to the moon and back.  Thank you to Alaska Airlines for getting the old ladies there and back safely and with dignity.  Thank you to Grandpa Phil for being the Grandmother Taxi to and from the airport.  Thank you to my Nosy Neighbor Fred for collecting my mail and watching over my house, and to my lawn guy for taking care of the grass in my absence.  And thanks be to God for another time...another experience...for One Day More!   (See what I did there??)




Thursday, May 17, 2018

Back Home Again In Indiana

I just got home last evening from yet another trip to visit family in the Seattle area.  The express purpose of the trip was to attend the last three (out of six) performances of Woodinville High School's production of Les Miserables, in which my 15-year-old granddaughter had a part.  The trip was for eight days, and my grandchildren's paternal grandmother, Judy--who is also my friend--accompanied me.  Judy had never visited Seattle, nor had she ever seen the grandchildren's home since they moved out there three years ago.   The next couple of blog posts are going to be about the trip.

One of the best things to happen to frequent flyers to the Pacific Northwest occurred a year ago when Alaska Airlines began a non-stop flight from Indy to Seattle, one per day each way.  Prior to that, I flew Southwest Airlines, which meant the checked bags had no fees but also meant that there was a layover along the way.  Las Vegas, Denver, Kansas City, Chicago...you name it...and sometimes the layovers were counted in hours, not minutes.  I gladly pay the $25 for my checked luggage just to have the privilege of getting there sooner and without having to make connections.

I require handicapped support.  Without the wheelchair pushers, I simply would be unable to make these trips.  Although Judy is mobile, she does have one artificial knee and some problems with the other one.  I had to convince her to accept handicapped assistance at the airports, since the services are free (aside from tips for the pushers) and do not take anything away from people who need the services more.  Thus, we became two old gals being pushed around by caring folks who know the ropes about getting through security, etc.

I suppose I should also mention the time differential.  Indiana is on Eastern Time.  The Seattle area is on Pacific Time--three hours behind Indiana time.  The experts say it takes one day for the body to adjust to one hour's time change, which means that it would take three days for us to get with the program.  Also understand that the length of daylight hours in the PNW is longer this time of year than earlier.  In other words, the sun comes up earlier by the clock in Seattle than it does in Indiana.  Strange, but true.  On the day of our arrival (Tuesday, May 8th), we were chasing the sun.  When we landed, it was strange to see the sun still up when my Indiana watch said 11:30 PM!!

Tuesday, May 8, 2018:
Judy's husband Phil did the honors to take us to the Indy airport, along about 4:30 PM.
There is no curbside check-in for Alaska Airlines at Indy, but the desk is close inside.  The first great thing that happened there was that the gal behind the counter waived our bag fees for reasons known only to God!  That was a $25 savings for both of us, and we have no idea why!  They pushed us to the gate where we were boarded early and first.

As I mentioned, the plane followed the sun westward.  We landed at Sea-Tac in good shape.  Megan and Denis (my daughter and son-in-law), and Robin (our granddaughter) met us at the baggage claim, then drove us back to their house in Bothell for a small dinner of soup and shrimp and other goodies before delivering us to our motel, a mere quarter of a mile from their place.  Ryan (our grandson) provided Judy with a house tour before we departed.  By the time Judy and I crashed for the night, it was easily 3:00 AM by our Indiana body clocks.

In terms of sleep, I'm only good for about three hours of uninterrupted slumber before I start to thrash.  And every time I thrashed, I looked over at Judy in the other bed.  She never moved.  I swear she woke up in the same position she was when she fell asleep!  At one point, I thought, "Well, if she's dead, I won't know it until morning."  As it was, she was just one tired lady!

Wednesday, May 9th: 
Although it was cool in the morning, it turned into a cloudless day.  We thought we would just sit around and catch up on rest, but Meg thought we should take advantage of the day...and we were agreeable.  After the children got to school, we departed for Whidbey Island.

We did a ferry ride on the way to Whidbey.  (Can't do the PNW without a ferry ride!)  We drove around the island, stopping in various places just to soak up the beauty.  We stopped at a cafe in Langley and ate lunch outside there.  There were flowers everywhere.  It was lovely and warm and peaceful, and the food was good.  The company even better!

We drove home across the Deception Bridge from the island.  Stopped to look at why it is called Deception Pass...  These are things we just don't see at home!  We were home in time to visit with the grandchildren post-school. 

Thereafter, Megan had suggested that Judy and I watch the Les Miserables movie, with the Closed Caption option turned on.  Judy had never seen Les Mis.  I had, but knowing how convoluted the plot is and how difficult it can sometimes be to understand the words when they are sung on stage, watching this on TV had an enormous impact on our ability to understand the show when we saw it at Woodinville High School.  It was the best idea anyone had all week!!  We watched until it was time to go back to the motel, then paused it to finish the next day.  Judy and I were plenty tired...

Overnight, Judy told me that the fire alarm went off in the motel.  Not enough to wake me up, but enough to concern her.  When she told me about it in the morning, I already knew what had happened.  When I went outside for my morning smoke, there was a scorched paper plate with two totally black burritos on it, set on top of the trash bin to cool off before putting in the trash.  When I returned to the room with Judy's coffee, she told me about the fire alarm, and I told her what I saw.  Mystery solved.  Someone had obviously nuked a couple of burritos too long.  I teased Judy about it.  Motel is on fire?  Oh well...unless someone is knocking on the door, let's just roll over and go back to sleep.  (I slept through all of it!)

Thursday, May 10th:
Although it was a pretty day, we were all in agreement that we should take the day off (as much as one can when children have schedules in a one-car family).  Judy and I watched the rest of Les Mis, with captions.  At one point, we went to Costco to pick up supper pizzas.  (Usually, Friday is Pizza Night in the Shchepetov household, but it was performance night for Robin, so we had to have something quick and easy.)

At "call" time, Robin was delivered to school.  The rest of us went shortly thereafter.  Meg had already purchased the tickets which were being kept at "will call" at the school, but there are no assigned seats.  In short, our tickets gave us admission, but first come/first served on seats.  I was using the rollator (walker on wheels with a seat) and was greeted at the door by the show's Producer, Katharina.  Because I was considered handicapped along with my companion Judy, we were let in early.  I asked if our escorts (Megan and Denis) would be allowed to sit with us, and the Producer tapped them on the shoulder as they stood in the general admission line so they could be seated with us!  I mentioned to Katharina that we had come all the way from Indiana to see our granddaughter in the show.  She asked who our granddaughter was, then said, "I know her.  She's a sweet kid."  I agreed and thanked her for noticing.  Bottom line, we got preferential treatment because of my disability.  We had nice seats and got in before everyone else!

I have to say this:  when it comes to high school stage performances, I am hard to impress.  I've been in shows and directed shows, although NEVER anything as ambitious as Les Miserables.  Robin is "only" a sophomore, so she didn't have a lead part, but she did have a one-line solo in one number, and her frequent supportive presence on stage was stellar.  When she was in it, she was IN IT!  I heard her sing a part at home and was blown away.  She can sing!  She can really sing!  It made me cry, actually.  Who knew that she could knock me dead with her stage presence and charm?  Every day is a new surprise with that young lady!  The show was a tremendous success...a fantastic performance every which way you put it.  There were prostitutes in the show.  Robin wasn't one of them, but she could easily have been thrown in with the "lovely ladies".

After the performance, when the characters were greeting their fans, I found the young'un that played the bawdy innkeeper who basically stole the show.  I pointed my finger at him and said I wanted to shake his hand.  I told him that I had traveled all the way from Indianapolis to see the show.  His comment was, "All the way from Indianapolis?  Do you have family in the show?"  I confessed that I did...Robin Heffelman.  His response was, "Robin Heffelman!  She is the best whore!"  Yeah...okay.  If you say so.  He was a hoot!

When Robin emerged from the wings, we stopped at McDonald's for treats because it was the only place open after 10:30 PM...then the grandmas went home to the motel and died.

How much did we die?  Apparently a lot.  At one point, Nurse Judy woke me up because I was breathing heavily and noisily in my sleep.  She thought she might need to call the paramedics.  As it was, I didn't feel that I was suffering.  I feel bad that I interrupted her sleep.  And so it is with old people!

More later.  It's hard to relate a week's worth of wonderful experiences in one blog entry!!