Austin Traffic

When we go to San Antonio, we typically bypass Austin and drive through the Texas Hill Country. It doesn't take any longer and it's less aggravating than the struggle of taking I-35 through the center of Austin. BUT we thought that since it was the Friday before a major holiday and we'd be passing through after 6 PM that it wouldn't be a big deal. We were very wrong.

The slow down started at Round Rock (as it always does) but it eased up after ten minutes, so we thought it would be smooth sailing after that. We were very wrong again.

It was crawl, speed up and slow down to a crawl again all the way through. I counted at least three accidents with police cars and wreckers. Seems a high number of accidents for the size of the city and the relatively small stretch of road. All in all, it added about 30 minutes to the trip, which wasn't too bad - it has taken up to an extra hour in the past.

I have to conclude that the folks in Austin just can't drive very well. I think we'll go home through the Texas Hill Country. Fredericksburg is such a pleasant little town. But then again, how much traffic will there be in Austin on New Year's Day?

A Good $6 Investment

Different people define investments in different ways. To me, an investment is one of three things.

1. Something that I'll be able to use multiple times so that I get my money's worth out of it.
2. Something that pays dividends.
3. Something that increases in value.

I bought a couple of Santa hats for us this year. I'm not sure they'll ever increase in value, but we've already used them multiple times since I bought them last Thursday and they've paid a remarkable dividend.

We were on our way to Oklahoma City on Christmas Eve. There is a road that runs between Route 82 and Interstate 35. No speed limit sign that we could see. But we now know that the speed limit is 55. We found out because we were doing 65 - 10 miles over the limit. From what I understand, a speeding ticket generally costs $25 for each mile over the speed limit - so in our case that would have been $250.

"Good morning sir. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Good morning. About 65 I think."

"Did you know the speed limit is 55?"

"No, I had no idea."

"I'll need your license and insurance card. When was the last time you had a ticket?"

"I've never had one."

Thank goodness he didn't say "Well, that's about to change!" He said, "I'm going to run your license through the computer and if everything checks out, I'll give you a warning."

A warning! No ticket! No fine! It could have been because of Mark's stellar driving record. But I prefer to think that it was because we were wearing Santa hats. Really, who could give a ticket to an old git in a Santa hat? That's like a 4000% return on that $6. I'll be looking for bunny ears in a few months...

Paper, Pen, and Pretty to the Rescue

A long time ago (a really long time ago - like before everyone had a computer in the house) I had a Christmas card list "book". It was just a cheap little thing - a giveaway from a card company. It was far from ideal but it had columns for listing names, street addresses, cities, states, and zip codes. And then it had columns for "sent" and "received". These went out about 10 years, so the book served me well for a long time.

It's probably been over 10 years since that book's last columns were used. Without the sent and received columns the book ceased to be useful. But I didn't worry. I had a computer and I could make a spreadsheet with all the names and addresses and I could even add columns for sent and received. So I did. I can't remember whether I named the file "addresses" or "christmascardlist" or something else that should have been obvious. What I do remember is that I had to open the file at the end of the season to put the Xs in the received column (that practice was short-lived - too much hassle). And then the following year, I couldn't find the file. But I didn't worry, I'd made a print copy. I could recreate the file. So I did. And I repeated this process for a number of years. This year was no exception. It seems that I never actually bothered putting dates on anything and this year I found several files but had no idea which one was the most current. (You would think the file date would have been helpful, but for some unknown reason, all the files had the same date.) There were six different printed versions in my paper file and the only hints I had were the addresses of people who had moved. It looked to me like none of the files was current. This will not happen again.

A visit to the Hallmark store has solved the problem. The pages are laid out with plenty of room for each address, which is important because many of the people on our list these days don't live in the US and addresses in the UK, Australia, France and even Canada take up more lines. There are five years of sent and received boxes AND there are plenty of extra pages so that when the five years are used up, all I need to do is break out another page. I think this will probably do for the rest of my life, or as long as I can remember where I put it.

What's Happened to Us?

Yet another gun-related tragedy today. I think the last number I heard was 26 people, including children. I am sad and angry all at the same time. The America I grew up in was a safe place. My biggest childhood fear was that the Russians would drop a bomb on me. I had no way of knowing that they couldn't actually get to Ohio with a bomb without being intercepted.

Unfortunately, in my lifetime we've been attacked on our home turf, not by a foreign government but by a terrorist organization. But threats to our safety are not limited to terrorists. We have our own home grown nutcases to be afraid of. We've seen news reports of people shooting up malls, grocery stores, movie theatres, and today an elementary school. Add home invasions to that and it's hard to feel safe anywhere.

We keep hearing the mantra that "guns don't kill people - people kill people". Here's the problem, people with guns can kill more people than people who have no weapon other than their bare hands. In that sense, guns are weapons of mass destruction.

Look at it for a moment from the shooter's perspective. It's impersonal. They only have to fire. They don't have to look into the faces of their victims - they can do it with their eyes closed. Their victims are random, nameless, faceless - in other words killing with a gun doesn't require the killer to consider the humanity of the victim.

I'm not so naive as to think that people can't look into the face of a child and still kill. I know that they do. All too often we hear about mothers drowning their children and psychos abusing and killing children. But not dozens of children at a time. A gun makes it really easy. It's also easy for the shooter to claim that he was "temporarily insane" but miraculously better now. A harder sell if he's strangled 26 people.

At this point no one knows what motivated this shooting spree. Whatever it was, it won't matter to the families who've lost a child or a loved one. I don't care what kind of stress or strain this guy was supposedly dealing with. He didn't deal with it properly.

What's happened to us? Things like this didn't happen when I was growing up. Are people crazier or did we just lock them up back in the 50s and 60s? Why can't we lock them up now? When they catch them and put their pictures on TV they all look looney. But I suppose you need a better reason than "he looks insane" to lock somebody up and I'm sure there are lots of people who look a bit looney but are quite harmless.

Are guns more deadly or more easily available? I suspect they are, on both counts. When I was growing up my dad kept hunting rifles in the house. We didn't have any assault weapons. No matter what the NRA says, no one needs an assault rifle for home protection. I also know that we have "gun control" laws in place but they don't seem to have any teeth. I remember back in the 60s when my dad was buying a hunting rifle. The store clerk asked him what he intended to do with it. Really, if he'd intended to kill someone do you think he'd have told the store clerk? Here in Texas they have gun shows. I went to one once years ago with my ex-husband. You could buy any kind of weapon you wanted. And believe me, there were lots of looney-looking people hanging out there.

It's a complex issue. All too often, authorities make laws/rules that don't address the real problem. (Happens in clubs, corporations, and government all the time.) And in this case, I'm not at all sure what the "real" problem is. I don't have the answers. I do have a gun. I've never fired it at anything other than a paper target. I hope I never do.

Can You Give Me a Hint?

I just got a call from Verizon wireless on my land line. They were actually calling for Mark but, alas, he wasn't here. (They should have called his mobile number!) But I offered to help. After all, I'm the one who handles the bills.

"Let me see if your name is listed on the account. Yes, here you are. Can you tell me the account password?"

"No. I have no idea. Can you give me a hint?"

"I can't."

"Can you tell me if it's letters or numbers? Maybe a name."

"I'm sorry, we're not allowed to tell. I can leave you our toll free number and Mr. Elliott can call back."

(Not allowed?? Really?) "Alright then. But tell me, is there a problem with the account or do you want to sell us something?"

"I just want to tell him about some promotions we're offering right now."

"I'm SURE he'll call you back as soon as he can."

(Yeah, that'll happen.) Little Miss Perky "Not Allowed" rattled off the toll free number, which I did NOT write down. I just don't think I should have to know a password to be annoyed by a telemarketer. I understand they want to prevent an unauthorized person from making changes to our account. But I didn't call them, they called me. What are the odds that someone broke into my house and tied me up with the intention of answering my phone and buying everything that every telemarketer was selling? Besides, I know Mark well enough to know that I'm not the only one who doesn't know the password without a hint.

The Christmas Tree Workout

Mark has been pushing to get a pre-lit Christmas tree for several years. The only reason he's given in favor of it is that it's more "convenient". It wasn't enough to convince me. I was resistant for several very good reasons.

1. If the lights go out, you have to buy another tree, not just a $2 string of lights. This seems impractical to me.
2. You can buy a plain tree and 10 sets of lights for far less than you can buy a pre-lit tree. So it doesn't make economic sense.
3. I really like the Andover "pencil" pine that we have. It's "thin" and doesn't take up the entire room. I've looked for a replacement that's a similar size and shape and so far, I haven't found one. To get something with a bigger diameter would involve moving more than a coat rack.

These three points have been the basis of my resistance. But now, my resistance is gone. It was melted away by five days of limping and pain. We put the tree up last week and I finally stopped hurting yesterday. Usually Mark gets the tree out, "adjusts" the branches and puts the lights on with minor assistance from me, and then we both put the rest of the decorations on together. This year, I had to adjust the branches and put the lights on without his help because he had to finish a report.

Let me tell you, getting those lights on the bottom branches is back-breaking work. Talk about sore muscles! I'm convinced that all I need to do is take the tree down and put it back up every day. All that squatting and bending - I'll strengthen those quads and glutes in no time. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Except my morning walk turned into a morning "hobble" for about five days. (But I'm sure I'm stronger now.)

Why didn't he tell me it was killing him rather than "inconveniencing" him? I had no idea until I did it myself. I'm convinced. Right now, I'm really excited about buying a pre-lit tree at the after Christmas sales. Of course, I'm still planning to keep the old one, just move it to another location and maybe not put so many lights on it. We may end up having to move furniture to accommodate a new model, but that can't possibly be any worse than all the stooping and squatting to get the lights on the old one. Maybe I can put the bottom part of the tree on a table to get those lights on before assembling the entire tree. I guess part of me wants to believe that "no pain no gain" applies to Christmas decorations.

Why Cruising is Better than Flying

Mark and I love cruise vacations and we're so fortunate that neither of us suffers from seasickness. Cruising is one of the best vacation deals around. Here's why:

1. No one from the TSA gropes you before you board.
2. You can take as many bags as you want - no charge.
3. Cruise line food is good. Plus there's a variety!
4. You don't have to sleep sitting up.
5. They may misplace your luggage for a while, but they don't send it to a different city or country.
6. There's more to do while you're in transit than read a book, watch a movie, or sleep.
7. You don't have the added expense of a hotel.
8. No one else uses your bathroom, and someone cleans it twice a day.
9. You can stroll around outside.
10. The other passengers are smiling.

Yeah Mon! Nooooooo!

I've heard ugly rumors about Jamaica for 30 years. People say it isn't a safe place to go. A friend of a friend of an acquaintance of someone my cousin's brother-in-law works with was robbed and beaten nearly to death. All sorts of things. That is why we opted for the cruise line tour and I felt compelled to leave my engagement ring safely locked up in our cabin.

Dunn's River Falls in Jamaica was wonderful. We may not have been the oldest people in our group, but we were close. And I know that people who were much younger than we are wimped out and took the stairs. Who says a 60+ cardiac patient can't do this?. (Okay, so there were hand rails in places but those were the places where the water was coming at you so fast it knocked your feet off the rocks.)

We were warned before we got there that people would try to sell us a DVD of our experience but that we were under no obligation to buy it. (We bought it. - That's were these pictures came from.)

We were also warned that there were craft booths. We were told that they would give us "gifts" but then expect us to buy something. We were warned that they would ask our name and then carve it onto something and expect us to buy it. We were told that we were under no obligation to buy anything. Let me tell you, that warning was not strong enough! They should have told us to arm ourselves with sticks and beat our way through.

You know when you go to museums or "attractions" you have to exit through the gift shop? This was like that. Except it wasn't a single gift shop. It was a "crafter's village". Before we could even see what he had, the guy on the outskirts of the village was shouting "hey mon!" We thought we had the perfect excuse - all of our money was on the bus. "No problem! No one takes money to the falls. We go to parking lot with you!" He wanted us to buy a $6 mug for $20 and a $2 magnet for $7. (We bought them both for $10.) He also wanted us to buy junk with our names carved on it. No.

Having escaped only spending $10 for things we would have bought anyway, I decided to forge ahead. (My back was starting to hurt and I really wanted to sit down.) My plan was not to make eye contact with anyone, but to charge through the gauntlet and get to the parking lot. That's what I did. I assumed Mark was behind me. I came through to the parking lot unscathed but Mark did not. I watched the exit to the crafter's village for several minutes. Still no Mark. Where was he? No choice but to backtrack and find him.

It didn't take long. He was surrounded by "craftsmen" all sporting dreadlocks. He seemed relieved to see me. "There she is now!"

"Yes, I lost you. I thought you were behind me, but clearly you weren't." He had obviously made another purchase because he had a bag with stuff wrapped in newspaper. "What did you buy?"

"I'll tell you later."

We got back to the parking lot and I noticed that Mark was visibly upset. He told me that he didn't know where I'd gone. He didn't know if I was in front of him or behind him or if I'd been dragged into a booth somewhere. He said he'd been surrounded by at least nine of them. He felt he had to buy something in self-defense. In the meantime they had become interested in his gold chain (a really, really, really nice one that I bought him for his 60th birthday). And that was when I came back and we escaped.

As they say, all's well that end's well. By the time we got out of there we had no cash left. But we had our jewelry and our lives and some trinkets. And we'll never set foot in a Rastafarian craft village again. I didn't get to see what he bought until we got home. I'm planning to hang them in our office just to remind us of all the fun we had!

A Day in Grand Cayman

Having been completely put off by the Almost Free experience in Mexico and being totally committed to climbing Dunns River Falls in Jamaica, we decided not to get involved in any shore excursions in Grand Cayman. We waited until the rush was over and got off the boat. The boat was tendered rather than docked so it was just a short ride to the pier. We had a leisurely stroll into town. We were given all sorts of coupons for free charms and free necklaces but we didn't go collect any of them. (Most of them aren't worth the effort unless you were already planning to visit the store anyway.)

We did plan to do some shopping because I wanted a shorter beach cover-up for climbing the falls the next day. I also needed some water shoes to avoid ruining my walking shoes. We found those items (and more) fairly quickly and made our way to a restaurant that overlooked the water. We had a leisurely lunch and then made our way back to the pier.

The day was a bit overcast, but it was still a beautiful place to be.

"Almost" Free Enterprise in Mexico

Back in 2001 I went on a shore excursion in Cozumel. The tour took Jeeps down some dirt tracks to see some Mayan ruins and then went to a beach where people could swim and snorkel. Then we were served the most amazing fish tacos! And then we got back in our Jeeps and headed back to the ship. It was wonderful! So with that in mind, I booked us on the Jeep/Snorkel tour.

Our first stop was to snorkel. I don't put my face in the water so I planned to sit that one out. Mark wasn't in the mood to snorkel so we got some water and some tea and sat up on the deck. The guide announced that we would be there for 45 minutes. Really not much time if you wanted to snorkel. Not to mention that it took about 15 to 20 minutes for the snorkelers to get their gear. (They had to sit on little benches and wait for the group that was already out there to come back in because there wasn't enough snorkeling equipment to go around.) If I'd wanted to snorkel, I wouldn't have been happy.

Our second stop was supposed to be a local village that had some Mayan ruins. This was not much of a village. This was a road with three houses on it. At the end of the road there was a pavilion and a bunch of makeshift booths. Most of the people under the pavilion were selling photo opportunities - you could stand by a donkey, hold an iguana, or wear a sombrero - for a nominal fee, of course. Or you could buy a "beautiful plate with your name on it". Then there were the makeshift booths surrounding the pavilion.

"You come in lady. You look. It's so cheap it's almost free."

"You come in. You look. You might find something you like."

Assuming that they put their best stuff toward the front to entice people into the shop, I didn't think I needed to go in. If a Pittsburgh Steelers serape was the best item they had, I just didn't need to see more.

But the "village" also had Mayan ruins and a church. I wanted to see the Mayan ruins. I've been to Chichen Itza. Fabulous! But halfway there on that trip, the bus was diverted to a similar "craft mall", not quite as makeshift as the one we stopped at this trip, but a trap to part you from your money, none the less. The "ruins" at this particular village consisted of a pile of rocks, especially when compared with the 2001 trip and Chichen Itza. The Catholic church next door to the pile of rocks was far more interesting.

We were there for 15 minutes. Long enough for Nathan and Pedro to put a bit more gas in all the Jeeps. We loaded back into the Jeeps and set off again. We were still on the highway. Our next stop was across the street from a beach. Once again, there was a shop and a restaurant. We were told we'd be there for 30 minutes. Chips and salsa were free, but you had to buy something to drink. (Well, you didn't HAVE to buy something to drink. You could be thirsty if you wanted to.) We were also instructed not to go in the water because of the currents.

The next stop was Hacienda Antigua Tequila. We were encouraged to taste the tequila. It came in an assortment of flavors. But Mark and I didn't. I don't recommend tequila at all, much less on an empty stomach and Mark was driving. The tequila was NOT "almost free". As you can see from the photo, this tequila was over $1300 per bottle. Do people really pay that much for something to drink? (And tequila is one of those things that people drink and then don't remember drinking it.) But there was a gift shop outside selling black coral jewelry and assorted pottery. All of which was "almost free" - as indicated by the sign (written in English, by the way).

The next stop was lunch. Thank goodness! I was remembering those wonderful fish tacos served up on the beach back in 2001. And we finally went off road! Really, what is the point of having a Jeep if you're only going to drive it on the highway? We were at a "beach club". But we weren't going in the water because we only had time to eat and head back to the boat. The menu consisted of a fajita, a quesadilla, chips, salsa, and a slice of watermelon. You could have cheese and beans on it. The cheese was like the stuff they put on nachos at sporting events. The beans had either been liquified or they were just serving up "bean juice". The taste of beans without the actual bother of them. My fajita had two little pieces of meat - one was definitely chicken, the other might have been beef, or goat, or who knows what. The quesadilla was barely edible. It was better than the lunch we were served a few years ago en route to Chichen Itza. That consisted of a mystery meat sandwich on stale white bread, a bag of crunchy hydrogenated oil and a piece of fruit that was two days past it's prime.

Here's the bottom line. Nothing is "almost free". They charge you enough that they could (and should) serve a decent lunch. (They actually did serve a decent lunch back in 2001.) You shouldn't have to make all of those time-eating stops where you are hassled by people wanting you to buy junk, even if they are related to the tour guide, or paying him a commission for bringing you. Next time, I might just stay on the boat. So there.

Playing Tag

Baggage tags are very important regardless of your mode of transportation. They increase the risk that your bag ends up in the same place as you. We put our baggage tags on in the Seaside Bistro parking lot. They were just paper tags that we printed on our own printer before we left home. They had to be folded and taped. I folded them all carefully as shown in the diagram. I did my bag first. I overlapped the ends, forming it into a circle. I used several pieces of tape to secure it. In the meantime, Mark was working on his bag. Instead of overlapping the ends, he put them together the way you would place fabric if you wanted to sew a seam. I had no idea about the quantity of tape he was using. It didn't seem like a good idea to question him about it. Experience has taught me not to question how a man is completing a task unless lives are at stake. There was no rule about how to tape the tag to the bag. And my assumption is that there is never one and only one right way to do anything. Besides, he was so much faster at it than I was that he had his bag and the bag with our toiletries completed in the same amount of time it took me to do my bag. Ready to go, we set off for the dock and turned our bags over to one of the porters.

The first thing we did when we got on board was take our carry-on bag to our stateroom. Our checked bags hadn't been delivered yet, but that's not at all unusual. After we set sail, I went back and checked to see if the bags had been delivered yet. My bag was there, but Mark's bag and the bag with the toiletries were not. Interestingly, they were all together when the porter took them. I found it a bit odd that they'd been separated.

I went back to the stateroom around 7 PM to check again. The toiletries bag had been delivered. It was now sporting a sticky tag instead of the tag Mark had put on it. But Mark's bag was still missing. I stopped by the guest services desk and they told me that all the bags had not yet been delivered and to let them know if the missing bag hadn't been delivered by 9 PM. No problem. We went to dinner and returned to the room after 9. Still no bag. We ran into our steward in the hallway and he escorted us to the places where we could look at undelivered bags. Ours wasn't there. Now they started questioning us about the contents of the bag. Did we have bottles of liquid? No. Did we have an iron? No. Mark went to bed and I went back to guest services where we repeated the question exercise. They told me to come back at 11 PM. Wait a minute. I had no intention of coming back every hour to be told the same thing. I was convinced they had delivered the bag to the wrong Elliott. They assured me that if that happened the wrong Elliott would certainly call and let them know they had a bag that didn't belong to them. But when would they do that? It was nearly 10 PM. Then the young lady mentioned the possibility that the bag had been left at the dock and if that were the case, it would be delivered to us Tuesday in Cozumel. I asked what Mark was to do in the meantime. I was told he would have the use of a tuxedo and that he would get free laundry service until his bag was delivered. What was he supposed to do while they did his laundry? Wear the tuxedo all day? Wrap up in a towel? Wear my clothes? We decided to worry about what to do after 11 PM. I gave her a description of the bag - black with a lime green tag.

I understand how airlines lose bags. Everyone coming through checking a bag is going someplace different. But how does a cruise line do it? Everyone on that dock is getting on the same boat. I found it amazing!

Then at 10:50 I got the call. The bag had been found. WooHoo! Mark had clothes! (You'll note that he slept through my efforts to track down his bag.) I went down to guest services to collect the bag. It had the lime green tag but the tag that Mark had taped on was missing.

Now, I'm perfectly happy to blame the cruise line for losing the bag. Just like I blame the post office for lost mail. But I did notice that the bag that I tagged was delivered on time with the tag still on it and the toiletries bag was delivered late with a replacement tag on it, and Mark's bag was brought up to guest services because it had no tag on it and they had no idea who it belonged to. Is it possible that some of the baggage tags weren't actually secure? Is it possible that there is NOT more than one right way to tape a tag? We'll never know because the next time, we'll carry our bags on board.

The Newlyweds

We arrived at the cruise terminal at 1:30 PM, the suggested time shown on our travel documents. We turned our baggage (except for one carry-on) over to the porters and went to find the end of the queue. The queue came out of Terminal 2 and extended past Terminal 1. We headed for the end of the line and kept going past Terminal 1 all the way to The Fisherman's Wharf where we could sit down and enjoy a nibble and something to drink. A much better idea than standing in line for an hour or more.

Since the goal was to have everyone on board by 3:00 PM for a 4:00 PM departure, we decided to head back to the queue at 2:30. The line was significantly shorter, extending just past the exterior of Terminal 2. We could see a couple heading for the line coming from the opposite direction. They were further away. They must have just arrived at the terminal and dropped off their checked luggage. Far more daring than we are arriving 15 minutes ahead of the suggested "be on the boat" time. But they had a greater distance to reach the back of the line than we did so we wouldn't be "last in line" for long. (Fact is neither were they.)

He was average height, brown hair, jeans and a striped polo shirt. No distinguishing marks. I couldn't pick him out in a lineup. She was a different story. She had on bright blue tights, boots, an assortment of necklaces and scarves, a floppy straw hat over her long dark hair, over-sized sunglasses and a winter coat. They took their place in the queue behind us and she promptly threw her coat on the sidewalk and plopped down on it. She expected to be there far longer than I did. She was also expecting worse weather, or she'd come from a cold climate. (Turned out they were from Texas, so I guess the winter coat was just about being prepared.)

The line was moving, so she picked up her coat grabbed her carry-on luggage and moved forward with the line. They hadn't been behind us long when she asked us if this was our first cruise. "No, it's something we try to do every year." Turns out it was their first cruise. "You're going to love it. It's great! Everything is right there. No worries about driving or getting lost. You don't get groped by TSA agents. It's really good value for money." Then we found out that they were on their honeymoon.

Great plan for a honeymoon. Then she told us that she had some wine in her checked baggage. She asked us if that would be "okay". "You used to be allowed to take a bottle on, but I'm not sure if that's still the case." Turns out it was a gift from her favorite uncle, who advised her to cellar it for 20 years but she didn't want to wait. But it crossed my mind that when you have questions about what you can and can't take on board, your best bet is to check the web site for the cruise line or the air line or what ever line you're traveling. But she seemed convinced that the worst that could happen was that they might take her bottles of wine away. She didn't seem upset. Why wouldn't she be upset? No matter what it was, if it was a gift from my favorite uncle, I'd be unhappy if someone took it away. (I was unhappy that they took some of my curry sauce away at the airport and it wasn't even a gift.)

We made idle chit-chat with them, mostly about things you can do on a cruise when she disclosed that she'd packed her passport in her checked baggage. She asked me if that would be "okay". Good grief!! No! It won't be okay. It will be a major pain in the patootie, or worse. You brought a winter coat "just in case" but you don't have your passport?? But I sure didn't want to rain on her parade so I told her the story of the first flight I booked after Mark and I got married and how I'd booked it in the name of Elliott even though that wasn't the name on my passport. Of course I'd realized my error a week or two before the flight and called the airline to figure out what to do. I had to present my marriage certificate along with my passport when we went through security. Not a big deal.

The porters were reminding everyone to make sure they had not packed their passports and boarding documentation before taking the bags. She said no one mentioned that. I suppose it's possible that one person out of 3200 didn't get asked. If I were her husband I would be concerned that I'd just married an idiot. But I said nothing. We've all made stupid mistakes, and most of us have made stupid mistakes that were costly. Mark assured her that Royal Caribbean would be doing everything humanly possible to sort it out. After all, if they weren't on board, they wouldn't be spending any money, which is not in the cruise lines best economic interest.

After we passed the first turn in the security line, I noticed that they were no longer behind us. Mark said that he'd heard her explaining the situation to the woman minding the gate and they'd been pulled out of the line to resolve the problem.

The next time we saw them they were sitting at the back of the roped-off security area. We had completed all the checks and had been issued our boarding cards. It was nearly 4:00 PM. I asked them how it was going. She said they told her they'd have to find and pull her bag, but it had been nearly an hour and she didn't think anyone was actually looking for it. We smiled, offered a bit of encouragement and told them we'd see them on board.

We never saw them again. The romantic in me would like to think they boarded and spent the entire week on their private balcony. But that probably isn't what happened.

Giving Thanks

I just had a birthday. That's always something to be thankful for. But tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A day set aside for giving thanks to God for His abundance. It's uniquely American. No other country celebrates Thanksgiving - at least not on the same day we celebrate it in America. In some ways I'm surprised that the government still sanctions this holiday, but then for most people (at least those who don't work in retail) it's more about stuffing their pie holes and watching football than giving thanks.

To me, giving thanks is sort of like counting your blessings. An exercise that should be part of your daily or weekly routine, not just an annual event. (Of course the real trouble starts when people start counting other peoples' blessings instead of their own.) I personally feel so very blessed. I am certain that I am God's favorite.

I can't see into the future. (I never could.) I've made plans that didn't work out. I still do. I've imagined what my life would be like in a year, or five years, or twenty years and it's turned out differently. What I imagined twenty years ago is so very different from my present reality. The amazing thing is that my reality is so much better than what I imagined or planned. And for that (and so much more), I give thanks.

When is the Next Day Three Days Later?

Good question!! When is the next day three days later? When you ship with Useless (oops) United Parcel Service. Our repaired camera was shipped back to us last Friday marked for "Next Day" delivery. It arrived Monday around noon. This is their idea of Next Day??

The repair company had told us it would be there on Saturday, but guaranteed no later than 10 am on Monday -- at the very latest. When it didn't arrive on Saturday, we thought we could save time by picking it up at the UPS Terminal in Denton. Mark tried calling UPS customer service Monday morning before 7 am. He actually found the automated system more helpful than the person who finally came on the line. But because he had to leave, I took over the wait on the phone. I could see his point. It seemed that the only English phrase she'd been taught was "I understand" and then she repeated what I said. It was becoming pretty clear to me that she in fact did not understand, or at least understood very little. I was able to determine that the individual I was speaking with was located somewhere in "Asia-Pacific". That covers a fairly wide area, but it really doesn't matter. She wasn't in the United States and she didn't understand because if she did, she might have tried helping me instead of offering to have someone call me back in the afternoon. Her "I understand" became so annoying that I requested, demanded that she stop using the phrase. "Accept that you do NOT understand, and let's move on." We finally did move on -- to nowhere. She was able to establish that the package was not in Denton as we thought, but in Sherman. Okay, it wasn't on the way to anywhere and there was nothing we could do but wait.

More stress than anyone needed! Mark's first job was over an hour's drive away. He was so upset that he was halfway there before he realized he forgot his computer. I offered to take it to him but he said he just needed to come home for a minute. (He'd also forgotten to take his pills.) I rescheduled him for a later start time and he hit his reset button. I got on with my day while I waited for the UPS guy, who showed up just before noon.

We paid close to $200 to have the package delivered "Next Day Air". And we were just a bit disturbed that it hadn't arrived on Saturday. I thought that some sort of refund should be in order. This is where it gets ugly. I phoned UPS again. I selected the option for "Customer Service". The automated system asked me what I wanted, suggesting that I might want to say "Track a Package (a completely different option) or "Order Supplies". Did it occur to their system that I might have selected "Customer Service" because I wanted to speak with a customer service representative? I was connected to Sarah, who was located in the US of A. I was thinking that at least she would understand me. (Maybe.)

After we established that I had paid the shipper for the UPS charges, Sarah indicated that she would have to issue the credit to the shipper, not to me. I had no problem with that, I would just call the repair people and let them know to issue a credit to me when they got the credit from UPS. But that wasn't what Sarah meant. She meant I would have to call the shipper and get the shipper to call them to complain about the late delivery. Sarah was not going to be satisfied that my time was being wasted, she was intent on wasting Bill's time, as well. But the other thing is that I've already paid the shipper. Bill has my money. Where is Bill's incentive to waste his time calling UPS trying to get a refund for me?

Her next tactic was to inform me that I would have to contact the shipper because UPS had kept their part of the bargain. They had delivered it "Next Day Air" as requested by the shipper. She insisted that "Next Day Air" shipped on Friday meant Monday unless it was specified as Saturday. What kind of double-speak was that? If you have specified "Next Day Air" on a Friday, why would you assume that you had to be any more specific than that? The next day is Saturday. It is not Monday. Apparently if you ship something on Thursday, the next day is Friday. But if you ship something on Friday, the next day is Monday, unless you specify that the next day is Saturday. Sorry Sarah, the day after Friday on my calendar is Saturday. It's the same all 52 weeks of the year. SAT. UR. DAY.

Sarah was really astute. She sensed that I wasn't happy. She suggested that I contact the shipper to let them know that they'd done it wrong. Yes, she actually suggested that I phone up what may possibly be the ONLY vendor for this product in the United States and alienate him by telling him he doesn't understand how UPS works. It's very possible that he doesn't understand it. I know I don't. But I do understand alienating the only company that can fix the sewer-cam.

The bottom line is that I paid the "Next Day Air" price for "Three Day Ground" service. I am not a happy girl.

But I've learned a valuable lesson: When it ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY has to be there overnight - use FedEx.

An Alarming Weekend

We don't do intense grandparenting that often, so I was happy to volunteer to spend the weekend looking after the three grandkids in Oklahoma while my son took his wife away for the weekend to celebrate her birthday. There was no way we could arrive there before they left on Friday morning so we just planned to arrive about an hour before the kids got home from school. I was armed with knowledge. I knew where the key was. I knew what the security code was. And there would be a checklist in the kitchen for everything else.

We pulled into their drive around 2:40. Just about an hour before the kids are due home from school. Right on target. Except last Friday was "Expiration Friday". This was important to me because I trade options. And I needed to make sure that I had minimized or eliminated the possibility of an unprofitable call out on my positions. I was making that last trade as we pulled into the drive. It really wasn't possible at that moment for me to shut down the computer and restart once we were inside. The markets were going to close in 20 minutes and I couldn't risk a connectivity issue. I was almost finished. I could complete the trade in the car and then I'd be done. Mark set off to retrieve the key from the designated location. I was double-checking my positions when all hell broke loose.

The alarm had gone off in the house! I hadn't given Mark the security code. I didn't know he was going in. I only thought he was getting the key. Mark came back to the car and was going off with the same intensity as the alarm. I gave him the code and he disarmed the alarm. We took our bags (one for clothes - one for electronics) into the house. Before I could even set them down, my cell phone was ringing. It was my daughter-in-law. Had we set off the alarm? Hadn't we been given the code?

Yes and yes. I hadn't given Mark the code. My bad. But I didn't know he was going in. I thought he was retrieving the key and coming back to the car so we could go through the side door. But it seems the back door was closer and he opened it. It also seems that the alarm is programmed to go off immediately if anyone enters the back door. No delay to enter the code. If you enter through the back door, it is assumed you are up to no good, even if you have a key.

What I didn't know is that the alarm company had called their home number to see if everything was okay. Of course we didn't answer because we didn't hear it. We were either trying to turn it off or we were outside getting our bags. But just because we didn't answer, the alarm company was still not prepared to send in the SWAT team. They called my son's cell number. Which brings us back to why my daughter-in-law called. They were in an awkward position. They couldn't confirm that we were at the house. The last time they spoke with us, we were about 20 minutes away. The timing was right for us to be at the house, but they couldn't say for sure. Now that they had answers they were able to call the alarm company back, confirm that it was a false alarm and we were all fine. Until the next day.

The next day we took the kids out shopping and to a movie and then to Outback Steakhouse. A great day! And when we got in, I dutifully set the alarm to "Security:Night" as I was instructed to do. I realize now that this is something you do just before you go to bed, not when you're "in" for the evening. I came to this realization after one of the kids decided to go into the garage to get a popsicle out of the freezer. Again, the alarm company called the house. But this time, I could hear the phone. I answered it, explained that it was just one of the kids wanting a popsicle, gave them the "security word" and identified myself to their satisfaction. Another false alarm.

We got through the rest of the night without incident. But then the next day as we were leaving to take the kids to lunch, they all ran to the door with great enthusiasm. Then they opened it without disarming the alarm. It scared the daylights out of them and they all ran back down the hall while Mark disarmed the alarm system. It did not occur to me to wait until the security company called to confirm that all was well. I am not accustomed to waiting around for people to make sure that everything is okay. We were barely out of the driveway when my daughter-in-law phoned and told us we needed to go back to the house because the security company had called her and the doors were open and the cats were outside and about to be eaten by coyotes. We turned at the first side street. By the time we got back to the driveway, I was able to explain what had happened and reassure her that the doors were indeed closed and that the cats were safely inside. At this point, I am certain that she and my son thought that Mark and I were too old and too technologically inept to manage the security system (and possibly the kids). My ears were burning. So were Mark's. And perhaps they're right. And I don't care. Because now I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that those things are probably more trouble than they are worth and I don't want one in my house.

So all of you telemarketers out there who call me on a daily basis offering me a "free" security system, now hear this: You couldn't PAY me to take it. And woe to the next one who calls.

But if you think I'm unprotected, think again. I've got a really cool Smith & Wesson - blue steel with Pachmayr grips, and it's loaded.

Sabotage

The house Mark inspected yesterday morning was a foreclosure. It had been sabotaged. Not vandalized. Sabotaged.

It's not uncommon to see vandalism in a foreclosed house. Obscenities painted on the walls. Garbage everywhere. Shredded carpet. It doesn't actually prevent the bank from selling it; but it does allow the real estate investor who plans to flip it to pick it up for a lower price than he would have otherwise paid.

But sabotage is different. We've seen it a couple of times. We saw one instance of sabotage involving a divorcing couple. The husband (who no longer lived in the house) broke in and removed parts of the HVAC system and cut some wires so that things didn't work properly. (He ended up getting arrested.) Another time the people who were being foreclosed on left the house in pristine condition, but forced a tennis ball wrapped in a tee shirt into the sewer line. Bad mess and big expense for the new homeowner, who of course, immediately blamed the inspector (Mark) for not finding it, even though it's outside the standards of practice. (And that is why we now offer our clients a fiber-optic sewer line inspection.)

But the sabotage on this house was exceptionally bad. The previous owner had placed a rather sophisticated obstruction into the sewer line. Mark found it, but it took out his fiber-optic camera. The repairs to it will end up costing somewhere in the neighborhood of $1,000. Not to mention the call backs we won't be able to charge for. It will be a particularly expensive repair for a new owner, as well. It will chew up any roto-rooter type tools. The only way to clear it is to dig the line up and take that gadget out.

But this guy (I assume it's a guy) didn't stop with a sabotaged sewer. He cut a live cable and tucked it under the roof so it touches the downspout. Mark said that it would energize the downspout when it rained, meaning that if someone touched the downspout while it's wet, they'd very likely be electrocuted. I guess he's taking the attitude that "if I can't live in my house, someone else can just die there".

Now, if he's been that sneaky with things that can be detected, what has he done that Mark couldn't see? He could have put things into the HVAC system that would never be detected in a home inspection. He could fool around with gas lines. The possibilities are endless.

Personally, I think this guy should be charged with attempted murder. Clearly, the sabotage of the sewer line is intended to cost the new homeowner some grief and some cash. But what is the intention of the live cable?

The guy who is responsible for the sabotage seriously needs to grow up and stop blaming everyyone else for his problems. I can only imagine that foreclosure is awful. Especially if you have a young family. The reality is that I don't know anything about this guy, except that he was in financial trouble, lost his house, and then booby-trapped it. I hate to think that someone with his mindset has children.

But any of you who are considering buying a foreclosure (or any property) without having it thoroughly inspected are taking a serious risk.

Tea'd Off

I dom't drink coffee and I rarely drink tea. My tea drinking is typically limited to the British Club's Ladies' Christmas Tea and my granddaughters' birthday tea. When I do drink tea, it is fru-fru or "girlie" tea. Orange, raspberry or mint will figure into the name. But I really don't give much thought to tea. Even though I'm married to an Englishman and we have an entire shelf in our pantry devoted to tea, I don't even have to remember to buy it because Mark prefers loose leaf tea. Now, the only place you can buy loose leaf tea in our corner of the world is in a specialty shop. (Specialty shop = Exorbitant price). So we stock up on Tesco's finest when we're in England.

Let me say that Mark is good-natured. He rarely complaims about food or beverages, even when they're not particularly good. He seems to know which restaurant and coffee chains have good tea or good coffee and he orders accordingly. Far more sensible than ordering something you know you don't like and complaining about it. But he really does prefer tea for breakfast. So when we were at the Sheraton Suites in Atlanta this past weekend, he ordered tea for breakfast. The young lady brought the pot of hot water immediately. Then she brought the box with all the different tea bags in it and opened it for Mark's inspection.

So many colors! Yellows, oranges, greens. I could see some of the names as he flippeds through. Wild Sweet Orange. Berryblossom White. Green Ginger. Zen. He flipped through every packet in the box. "Do you have any real tea?"

I don't think this waitress had ever encountered an Englishman at breakfast before. She asked him what he meant by "real" tea.

"Real tea. Earl Grey, English Breakfast Tea. Something like that."

She took the box away and came back with two packets clearly labeled "Earl Grey Tea". Just what he wanted! But it did make me think about how challenging this part of the world can be for tea drinkers. Almost every hotel room comes equipped with a coffee maker and coffee. (Except for the W Hotel in Buckhead which comes equipped with a cocktail shaker.But that's a different story.) But they often don't have tea. Our room at the Sheraton did have a tea bag in it, but it was the Wild Sweet Orange, not the Earl Grey. We were relating the experience to my sister and her husband over dinner. Apparently Tony's mom just takes her tea with her. I think she may be on to something. I need to add tea bags to the car's emergency box. Just in case.

Monday Monday

Yesterday was Monday. Thank goodness Mondays are officially limited to one per week. It started out fine. I went for a walk. I wanted to get back into the walking/jogging habit, but there's always so much to do when I get back from a vacation that it usually takes me at least a week to get back into my regular routines. Yesterday was the first "back to normal" day.

As I came through the door I heard the phone ringing. It was Mark. He had forgotten his computer. I would have to deliver it to him in Allen. Even though it is 70% expressway it still takes over an hour to get there and back. So much for being in front of the computer when the markets opened. But it wasn't critical. I didn't have any positions that required a quick exit and the stocks I wanted to sell calls on could wait. No big deal.

So I loaded his computer in the car, grabbed my purse and my phone. Oops. It appears that I forgot to plug the phone into the charger on Sunday night and it was down to 10% battery. It would have to do.

I set off for the tollway when I realized that we drove the PT Cruiser downtown on Friday and it was out of gas. I looked and the needle was below the E. I turned back toward the Shell station. A bad habit! The Shell station closed several months ago for remodeling and hasn't reopened yet. I didn't think I could make it to Brookshire's so I headed for Bobcat Country and the highest priced gas in town.

I made it into Bobcat Country and pulled up to the pump. I couldn't remove the gas cap. I had the car inspected last Tuesday and they put a new gas cap on it because the old one didn't pass the inspection. (How does that happen?) As I moaned about my inability to get the cap off the nice man at the next pump asked what was wrong. "It's a new cap and I can't get it off." Fortunately, he could. But now I could see that they didn't actually affix the tether to the new cap the way they told me they did. I started visualizing leaving it on top of the gas pump.

I'm visualizing disaster, worrying about being late and somehow in all my frustration over the gas cap, I managed to press the buttons on the pump in the wrong sequence. I got a message that I would have to pay the cashier. I didn't want to pay the cashier! I wanted to pay at the pump! I'd just come back from an hour's walk/jog. I was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I wasn't wearing any make-up and it was still too early for sunglasses. I didn't want to go in the store.

But I had to. There was a big line at the register, so I had to wait a bit. And of course I got to see several people I knew. Worst of it was, they got to see me. Yikes!

In the end, the kid had to come out to the pump. He said my card was declined. "No, I just pushed the buttons in the wrong order." He reset it, it took my card and I pumped my gas. I was only 30 minutes behind schedule.

As I started driving away from Bobcat there was a strange haze that seemed to covered the entire town of Celina. For some reason, fog was rising. There hadn't been any fog when I went for my walk. There hadn't been any fog when I first set off a half hour before. Where had the fog come from? When I got out of town I could see it rising off the fields and becoming so thick that it was hard to see where to turn.

The fog stayed with me until I got on the tollway south of US 380 and then it was gone. Fortunate, because most people on the tollway don't actually slow down just because they can't see.

The rest of the trip was easy. I drove straight to it. And Mark came right out to collect his computer - didn't make me come find him. He even gave me breakfast money since we'd used all of my cash in the parking garage downtown, and by that time I was starving.

The rest of the day was fine! I just hope this was the only Monday I'll have this week.

Crush It!!!

We just spent a weekend "crushing it" with "Ry-Guy". It was a beneficial experience, well worth the $200 we paid to be there. Both Mark and I learned things we can use whether we decide to flip a house or not. If you are even remotely interested in real estate, rehabbing houses, or passive income rental properties you should go to one of these seminars if you get a chance. The company is Fortune Builders. (Click here to learn more.)

Even though there were about 200 people on Friday morning (that number dwindled significantly by Sunday afternoon), it was really high-energy and informative. We started out with a self-assessment to determine what we already knew, which was pretty little. Mark and I were both excited to see this because it's the same technique, called Learning Gain, that we used when we were corporate trainers. (We always collected the beginning and ending self-assessments and performed a calculation so we could show management how much the students had learned. They didn't do this step. I suspect they gauge their success by the amount of money they made.) Anyway, as a course developer and an instructor, I know how difficult it can be to keep a group that size engaged and energized, but Ry-Guy and his team did a great job.

But it wasn't just about high-energy. We learned stuff! We learned how to look for distressed properties. We learned how to determine an offer price for a property. We learned where and how to find private lenders. We learned some new internet marketing techniques and got some automation ideas to boost productivity. We also learned about some tax strategies - we can't use them, but they're good to know. And we learned about some useful apps and online resources we weren't aware of before, like "neat" for managing receipts using your cellphone.

On the downside (there is almost always a downside), they spent a bit too much time flogging their mentoring and coaching program, which involves making a "decision" to "invest" anywhere between $15K to $30K to jump start your business. We knew going in that this was never going to be our primary business so that effort was pretty much wasted on us.

There were a couple of other things that set me on edge.

1. Ry-Guy lumped Baby Boomers into a group that is considered technologically inept. Really? I don't want to say "You didn't build that", but innovators like Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg built on previous technology. The internet was already there. I admit that I don't keep up with technology the way I did when I worked for Sun Microsystems, but I'm far from inept.
2. Ry-Guy set the expectation for people that a real estate inspection should cost between $200 and $400. For anyone who doesn't know, Mark and I own an inspection company - Yellow Hat Inspections. (Check us out here.) Our minimum price is $390, pretty close to the top of Ry-Guy's range, and we are competitive. But I'm thinking that we'd rather get our clients from Angie's List than from Ry-Guy. (Actually, we'd be delighted to have Ry-Guy's inspections. I just don't want to have to negotiate with him because I sense that he doesn't really value what other people do.) I already have to deal with realtors setting similar expectations. I've had some call me up to ask me "why is it so high?". High? It's nowhere close to six percent.

But back to the seminar - it was crawling with philanthropists. Everyone on Ry-Guy's team seemed to be starting a non-profit to make the world a better place. It got a lot of applause. It impressed people. It had me wondering about the tax advantages of starting a non-profit because there are so many wonderful charities that you can donate to without starting your own. And just for the record, you don't need to make a million dollars before you start giving back.

It may be our suspicious natures, or just a bad habit, but Mark and I often question why people do what they do. We wondered why these folks are delivering training if they're making a fortune in real estate. We also wondered why they are spending time promoting ebooks for $20 a pop if there is so much money to be made flipping houses. Wouldn't you focus your time and effort where you made the most money? But then again, I suppose if you saw a $20 bill on the sidewalk, you'd probably pick it up. The bottom line is that we learned things we didn't know, were reminded of things we did know and had forgotten, networked with people who have similar interests, and feel like we more than got our money's worth.

So Why Don't I Feel Any Safer?

I do my best to keep this light and breezy. I rarely post anything political, controversial, or "heavy". But I have to make an exception. Airport security is almost more than I can bear. Before you know it we will have to subject ourselves to strip searches before we can get on the plane. All because some people don't know how to "play well with others".

Dallas was a breeze. They have some kind of advanced equipment. I really don't know if it's the one that shows the person viewing a "naked" image or not. I don't much care as long as it isn't being broadcast to the entire airport.

Then there is London. Heathrow has to be the worst airport in the world. I'm in my 60s. The closest I've come to anything radical was an invitation to join the Yippies back in 1968. Yes, it was a long time ago. I almost always travel in jeans. At this point in my life, I'm lucky to get myself in them. I can assure anyone that there's nothing in there except me. If they bulge a bit here and there, it's only fat - unfortunate, but true. Same for my bra. There was absolutely no need for the screener to stick her hands in my pants. Likewise, there was no need for her to perform a full frontal assault on my breasts. Usually when somebody touches me like that, they buy me dinner. Anyplace else, this would be considered assault. But there in Heathrow, she is free to go and she doesn't have to buy me anything.

Our flight into Rome was delayed, so we stood around and watched the people coming through security. Every now and then, a young man or woman was assaulted but for the most part it was women over 50. To see the people they pull over you would think that there is a subversive organization of grannies - Grannies for Jihad, maybe. But really, I suppose they just like to pick on us because they think we're easy targets - not likely to make a fuss. They say the searches are "random". It just cannot be. That many women over 50 would NOT come up in a random sample.

The other thing that makes Heathrow particularly annoying is that many of the screeners are wearing hajibs. It strikes me a bit like the fox minding the hen house. It is not my intent to villify all Muslims, but let's just be realistic for a minute. All (meaning 100%) terrorist acts and attempted terrorist acts involving aircraft have had Muslims as the perpetrators and ring leaders. I know that past performance is not a guarantee of future results, but it is a pretty reliable indicator. When you know that the people who commit terrorist acts on airplanes are young Muslim men, why are you wasting your time looking at middle-aged white women? It just doesn't make sense. Also, I have NEVER seen a woman wearing a burka pulled aside for additional screening. You could get a lot more under that loose flowy thing than I can get in my jeans. Maybe I should start wearing one of those instead of jeans. I'm sick to death of political correctness.

Then the return trip. In Rome I am once again selected for additional screening. It's starting to get really old now. I rolled my eyes at her and according to Mark she gave me dagger eyes when we walked off. I don't care. At least she didn't search me with quite as much vigor as the screener at Heathrow. At least she didn't stick her hands in my pants.

But then we get to go back to Heathrow before heading to Dallas. I couldn't believe it. No one wanted to assault me. When they waved me through instead of pulling me aside I asked, "Are you sure? You don't want to feel me up? Really? Last chance..." I was told it was my lucky day. But it wasn't. When we went to the gate, they have those last "security checkpoints". I'm not sure what their purpose is, other than to employ people. They are probably about 20 feet apart from each other (some aren't even that far). They are within sight of each other. Any one of them can pull you aside to check you or your bags one last time. I made it through. But Mark got caught in the last one. This last screening is inside the gate. They had blocked off the first row of seats and set up some tables in full view of all passengers. The select few start taking off belts, coats, shoes - anything they were asked to remove. I tried to keep my sense of humor by encouraging Mark to "Take it off, take it all off." - (Remember that shaving cream commercial?) Of course, I wasn't saying it loud enough for anyone to hear me other than the guy standing next to me. I was very concerned when I saw someone else being summoned in to meet with Mark. I shouldn't have worried. He had insisted on seeing the supervisor to find out why he had been selected for the additional screening. Now we're getting somewhere. He told me later that his name was on a list provided by the TSA in Dallas. Really? Why? I'll be calling my Senator when I get home. But what happened next was shameful and made me lose my sense of humor. The next person called in for additional screening is a poor old dear in her late 70s to mid 80s. She used a walking stick. She couldn't take her own shoes off. -- Never mind there were two screeners there who were on her like stink on poop to get her shoes off for her, and her coat, and her scarf. I thought they were going to strip her naked for a minute. The way they treated this woman made me physically sick. It might have been my mother. In another 15 years, it might be me. I lost my sense of humor. It was sickening. It was disgusting. Something needs to be done to stop it. Do I feel safer knowing that somebody's grandma has been assaulted by these security thugs? Sadly, I don't.

The Downside

Yesterday I wrote about the things we really liked about Spoleto. Today I give equal time to some things we didn't like - again in no particular order.

1. Dog poop - I'm not saying it's a mine field. It isn't. But you do need to watch where you're walking. There's very little litter, but you do need to watch out for the dog poop.
2. Flies - There are loads of them. (Perhaps a result of the dog poop.) They fly in your face and you are constantly waving them off. Very annoying.
3. Panhandlers - Mostly Nigerian imports. They also get in your face and you are constantly waving them off.
4. Unsalted bread - It's just not as good as salted bread.
5. Toilets - Many of the toilets don't have seats. Since most toilets are unisex, I suppose it spares women from the ill-effects of men not putting the seat up, but I prefer a proper seat. And I insist on toilet paper.
6. The young lady who works in the train station snack bar - She was the only unfriendly and unhelpful person we encountered. If she doesn't want anyone walking on her newly mopped floor, she should lock the door and refrain from mopping until closing time.
7. Walking uphill - Most of the narrow, cobblestone streets are uphill - both ways. Particularly on Saturday night when you you can't get a taxi and learn that the escalator went into lock down at 8 PM.
8. No taxis on Saturdays - If you're taking a day trip to Rome (or anywhere else) don't do it on Saturday. There will be no taxis at the station when you return. (We weren't that concerned because Roberto, our taxi driver who speaks English, had been diligent in picking us up at the designated time all week long. But not on Saturday. I didn't feel well that evening. I was shivering. Instead of calling a taxi for me, the young lady in the train station snack bar scolded me for walking on her newly mopped floor. We tried calling another taxi but they hung up on us when we couldn't speak Italian. We walked from the train station to the escalator. That was when we discovered that it closed at 8 PM. If we had not spent 20 minutes waiting for Roberto and trying to call another taxi, we might have made it. We were running out of options. But there was a taxi parked outside the Casbah Club near the locked entrance to the escalator. Unfortunately, the taxi driver was providing the entertainment in the Casbah Club and would not be able to taxi us anywhere. We were told it was just a short walk to where we wanted to go. We knew that. A short walk. Straight uphill. It took us another 20 minutes.
9. Francesca - Francesca was the name of the toddler who was running amok in the restaurant our first night out on our own in Spoleto. There seemed to be at least one "Francesca" in almost every restaurant. Just not something you expect in upscale places.

So it's not exactly a "top ten" list. But that's okay - clearly the positives outweigh the negatives.

The Top Ten - The Upside

Spoleto is very different from Celina. We had a conversation (actually, more than one) about the things we liked best about Spoleto. So here they are, in no particular order - the Spoleto Top Ten.

1. The pace of life -- The pace of life is much slower than Rome, and possibly much slower than home. It seems that the shopkeepers open and close when they feel like it. In fact, there was a ceramista shop that had a plate I wanted, but I didn't get it because I never found the shop open. But that's okay. It's a bit like that in Celina - which means if you really want it, you may have to drive to Frisco to get it. Just in this case, I didn't find a similar plate anywhere else.
2. The proximity to Rome -- Spoleto is a short drive or train ride into Rome. We were able to spend a few days in Rome and Assisi without having to pack up and set up a new base somewhere else.
3. 
   Public transportation -- Trains, buses and taxis are available to take you where you want to go. We don't have that luxury in Celina. In fact we have to drive for nearly 30 minutes to catch the light rail that goes into Dallas. By the time we do that, we might as well drive into Dallas. I really like public transportation.
4. Friendly, helpful people -- For the most part, once people realized that our Italian vocabulary consisted of Grazia, Buongiorno and Buona Sera, they all brought out their English skills - which were so much better than our Italian skills.
5. 
   Picturesque - The views from the hills were stunning. The narrow cobblestone streets, the unusual doors and door knobs, the flower boxes, the fountains, the cats sunning themselves in windows - so many photo opportunities!
6. The escalator - There is an escalator near the marketplace not far from Piazza Garibaldi that takes you up near the Castle and enables you to walk downhill instead of uphill. (Having four stents, I appreciate this!)
7. 
   The views at Casa Feeney - We're typically pretty lucky with views. But the views from Mike & Ros's apartment were fabulous. From the hall window we could see the Ponte Del Torre; it's lovely when it's lit up at night. Our bedroom overlooked a convent, gardens, and tile roofs. Beautiful! We could look out at night and see the cross on the top of the hill. Better views are hard to come by.
8. 
   Selection of restaurants - There were any number of high quality restaurants to choose from - all within a short walking distance.
9. 
   Food - The food was all wonderful. Excellent quality and cooked from fresh ingredients. And relatively inexpensive. We enjoyed a multiple course meal that would have set us back over $100 at home for just over $70.
10. Wine - The Montefalco Rossos were the perfect complement to the food. We particularly enjoyed the Sagrantinos. And they didn't have to be expensive to be good!

Prego! Mangia!

Every time we went into a restaurant we were greeted with "Prego, prego! Buongiorno." I recognize "prego" as a brand of pasta sauce and had no idea what they were saying. I got the buongiorno part but I had to Google prego. It means "Welcome!" Always good to know. I'll never look at that jar of Prego on the grocer's shelf in the same way. But let's talk about the food.

I have always loved Italian food. But I've grown accustomed to the American version of Italian food. (Well why wouldn't I? I have lived in America all my life.) When you go to an Italian restaurant in the United States, what do they serve you first? Garlic bread? Or maybe a rustic bread with olive oil and herbs for dipping? We were in Italy for ten days. The closest thing I saw to garlic bread was on a a platter of assorted bruschetta. Most of the bread was unsalted and no olive oil was offered with it. You didn't even get a bread plate. It's different there.

Don't get me wrong. The food in Italy was wonderful. The wine was even better. But it's different from the Americanized version of Italian food. Pastas are local. In Spoleto, the local pasta is strangozzi. It's wider and flatter than spaghetti, but not as flat as fettucine. One way of serving it there is "Spoletina", the local variation of tomato sauce. Another way is "tartufo", the local truffle sauce. Then there are combinations of mushrooms, tomatoes, truffles and other ingredients. The point is that spaghetti is not always on the menu. Neither are lasagne or ravioli. But in Spoleto, strangozzi is always on the menu and so is "Spoletina". The cuisines of some cities have made their way into our culture - "Florentine" or "Bolognese" for example. "Spoletino", not so much.

The pizza is wonderful. It's thin crust - not greasy. No stuffed crust, no thick crust and no deep dish. But it's not what they serve in the US. There is no "super deluxe". It only comes in one size. It is intended to be a meal for one, maybe two if they are light eaters. You order the combination of toppings you want. Additional toppings are not an option. When it arrives at your table, you have to cut it yourself. The toppings are not so thick that you can't fold it over, as everyone does. I think that this is how pizza was meant to be. (Although I question the sanity of boiled potato as a pizza topping. That actually was an option in one ristorante!) In the US, we've super-sized our pizzas, as we do with so many things. That's not to say that when I get home, I'll not want to have my "super deluxe" pizza loaded with toppings from time to time. I certainly will.

In addition to a wide variety of cured meats, such as salumi and prosciutto, a wide variety of cooked meats have been offered. More beef than chicken, but almost always pork and lamb. (As a general rule, Mark and I don't eat beef outside the US.) I tried a chicken dish and found it a bit stringy. I suspect it was free range chicken, as it had been slow cooked. It was very tender, and quite tasty, but the texture was a bit stringy. All the pork was excellent. While I typically don't eat much lamb, Mark does, and reported that it was all excellent. Since he is a much more adventurous eater than I am, he also tried the pigeon and the wild boar and pronounced them both very good.

Most of the restaurants offered a fixed price menu. It is a fantastic value if you can eat that much. We did it one night. We had a flaky pastry (savory rather than sweet) with a cheese sauce/filling, a bit of risotto, strangozzi with tartufo for me, pigeon and pasta for Mark, roast pork loin with an herb crust and orange sauce, and chocolate cake, followed by assorted biscotti. It included water (sparkling or naturale) and two glasses of vino. A meal 1ike that would have cost us well over $100 at home. We ended up asking for most of it to be boxed up so we could have it for lunch the next day. I don't think they're accustomed to people asking for boxes. They managed to wrap up (not box) the pork but left out the strangozzi tartufo - which was absolutely the best. I was so disappointed. But I bought some truffles to bring home, and a cookbook. Now if I can find some of that Montefalco Sagrantino...