Travel Quests

I just finished reading "All the Light We Cannot See" by Anthony Doerr. I know it's a couple of years old, but something made me include it when I ordered other 'books I don't need' from Powell's. This book was my 'before bed' reading for a few weeks. I almost always read a real book before bed and rarely take gadgets in the bedroom. Sometimes I read a magazine. Rarely a newspaper (hard to handle in bed).

This book invoked a travel quest. A lot of my travels include the ordinary things tourists do at a destination they choose because they haven't been there or want to return to, but often my trips are inspired partly by quests. After reading this book I wanted to go to Saint-Malo. I claim to have read a lot about WWII, European Theater, but I was ignorant about the story of Saint-Malo. (The city was needlessly flattened by the Allies who thought there were many more Germans holding it.) There were other locations in France and Germany, but it's really a story of Saint-Malo told with fictional characters and a bit of fantasy.

This sudden desire to go to Saint-Malo made me think "then I could probably get to Jersey (one of the Channel Islands) from there." Because another quest I have is to go to Jersey. I think some of my ancestors were from there. It looked on Google Maps like ferrys connceted the two conveniently.

Reading often triggers these travel quests. James Joyce's "Ulysses" triggered a desire to go to New York on June 16 (Bloomsday, the day on which the novel is set) and hear readings. And this last summer we went to Dublin on June 16. Ground zero for Bloomsday because the novel is set there.

The other day we were talking about going to London. (My husband has never been.) In 2005, I read an article in The New Yorker by Adam Gopnik entitled "Letter from London and Paris: Two Cooks; Taking food to the extremes." It was about Alain Passard and his Paris Restaurant Arpège and Fergus Henderson and his London restaurant St. John. Chef Passard was an advocate of more vegetables and Chef Henderson a 'nose to tail' meat aficionado. I'm happy to say that I have now been to Chef Passard's place on two different visits to Paris.

There we are with Chef Passard!

Well, if we went to London....maybe I could check out Chef Henderson, too! As luck would have it I saw a Fergus Henderson cookbook in the independent bookstore nearby just after I had this thought! I love veggies, but I love organ meats, too. A quest!

These travel with a reason (no matter how weird) deals have taken me to Berlin when Christo and Jeanne-Claude wrapped the Reichstag and to New York for their Central Park Gates and to Lake Iseo in Italy for the Floating Piers. We visited Roslyn, Washington this last summer because our favorite TV show "Northern Exposure" was filmed there. (Our friend instigated this but the fact that we carried DVDs of the show to their Oregon Coast house every visit made her think of it.) Once when my friends and I were meeting in Paris to go to the Loire, I read that there was an exhibit in Rouen of Monet paintings of the Rouen cathedral. Side trip! (Oh, Monet's Garden and Chartres are 'on the way' let's do that.) Many of our trips involve seeking out a special bookstore every time we go. (Crawford-Doyle and the Strand in NYC; Powell's in Portland, OR; and Shakespeare and Company in Paris.) 

Last summer (2015) we were planning to go to the south of France when I read about a special exhibit at MOMA when we were going to New York. It was the paper patterns for a chapel he designed in Vence, France. So we went to the exhibit and, you guessed it, then we went to see the chapel when we were in France. That trip south also took us to Menton because someone we'd only 'met' online lived there. When I discovered a Michelin-starred restaurant there, guess where we had lunch?

I could go on and on. (And perhaps I will as I run out of things to write about daily.) Many trips were to tourist spots but had the advantage of meeting up with someone like this.

Have you ever traveled somewhere just to see some event or one particular landmark or eat somewhere or, um, buy books?

What's Eating You?

Aunt Cappy at Shaw's near Pemaquid, July 2005.

This morning I stayed in bed until 8 o'clock. I almost never stay in bed that late. I had some weird dreams. When I got up I thought I should write something for Holidailies right away and get that done. The writing prompt was about shopping Black Friday and Cyber Monday. We will speak of my non-shopping ways another time. Today we will talk about my Aunt.

We call her Cappy. It's a nickname her brothers and sisters (and parents for all I know) gave her. She had two brothers and four sisters. My dad and my uncle and my four other aunts on that side of the family. Two of her sisters married and had kids. The brothers, too. (Two of her sisters never married.) She was single until she was in her mid-thirties. She was in the Navy. She married a Marine late in both their military careers. He went to Viet Nam after they married. He had been in WWII and Korea. They were married for over four decades until he died in 2013. All her sisters have died, too. Her brothers. All the husbands and wives of those siblings. Her nieces and nephews married. Some had children. Some of those children had children. But of her 'generation' on my Dad's side, it is only Aunt Cappy. It's true she was youngest of her siblings. The oldest was 20 years older. Cappy was born straddling the next generation, only 12 years older than the oldest niece.

The Marine she married hailed from a little town in Maine where generations of his family had lived. So they moved there after they retired and they took care of his mother until she died and stayed on in the land of harsh winters and beauty and lobsters until they couldn't weather the winters and finally couldn't maintain two homes so they could summer in Texas.

The picture above is of my aunt when Forrest and I visited Maine on a car trip. Nine years ago. She's joking with the lobsters we will consume. (Funny how the camera she's holding dates the picture. A Polaroid I believe. Although the rest of us were in the digital era by then.) We had a routine when we visited called 'Code of the West' (somewhat inexplicably in the eastern most state) that involved going for lobster at a lobster dock restaurant, taking home leftover lobster meat for lobster rolls the next day in a cooler, visiting the Pemaquid Lighthouse and Museum and having ice cream at a gift shop nearby.

My aunt is on my mind. She lives near Dallas now but on a Thanksgiving trip to Houston she fell and dislocated her shoulder and had to get a shoulder replacement yesterday. Several of my cousins and their wives are on the case. But I'm there in spirit. I took her back to Maine the summer of 2013 to lay my uncle's ashes to rest in his native soil. (And, incidentally, to reenact the Code of the West in his honor. And, let's be honest, do every fun thing he liked that we could make time for. That Marine was always so much fun.) I took her back again this last summer with the help of my own niece (who is, gulp, 46 years old!) to do the driving. Another cousin took her to South Carolina this year. On these excursions I worried that she would have a fall. I was inordinately proud of getting her home upright.

I hope that she rebounds to take the risk of being on unfamiliar ground again. There is an army of nieces and nephews and their progeny who will hopefully be there for our last elder of that generation. Maybe we will keep taking her on trips even though we fear the fall, especially the out-of-town fall. I wish she lived closer to me. (She is in a retirement home near Dallas.) But that would imbue additional responsibility. It's been a few years since we had parental units to look after. None were quite as fun as Cappy, though.

And whenever I see some older person being looked after, by a child or someone else, I now wonder: who will look after me? I posed that question to Aunt Cappy one time. She said: "Be nice to your nieces."

I Dreamed of Travel

The Visible Woman...travels.

When I retired (it's been over eleven years ago now) I thought I'd do a lot more traveling. At first FFP was still working, but my dad was up for some road trips to Dallas and Colorado to see relatives. I could slip in a trip with friends as a single. Which has its advantages in some ways. Beginning in 2004, FFP made time for more trips and made his first foray to France. We've only been back once since and only to Paris.

The parents and their aging needs made us wonder about trips to Europe for a while. We developed a habit of going to New York in June and then, the last three years, also in December. We began, at some point, to go to Portland, OR and a few other spots in the Northwest every August. In 2005 we drove to the Northeast and in 2010 we drove to the Northwest. In 2006 we drove to Santa Fe and Phoenix. We've made driving trips to New Orleans the last two springs. We made a trip to the north coast above Boston and the Hamptons in July 2012. I also squeezed in a trip that summer to see my relatives in Colorado. Last summer I had a trip to Maine to assist my aunt in taking my uncle's remains back to his home.

We downsized and moved to a simple downtown condo in 2008. That made it easier to leave town. As did not getting a new dog when our Chalow had to be put down in 2007.

My dad died in 2010 and FFP's parents both died in 2011. That might have freed us a little for travel. Of course, FFP had a health scare in 2010 and while that's behind us now we still visit Houston twice a year for a trip to MD Anderson.

Somehow we travel a lot and yet not enough. I hear friends talk about cruises and safaris and trips to Italy and trips to places like South America where I have never ever been. Some friends went to Berlin in October, a place I've been multiple times, most times meeting up with these friends. I was eager to show FFP Berlin. But I couldn't make it work.

We don't have any trips planned for 2014. We have some mentally penciled in. My passport expires in October so I think I'll renew it now and hope that I do get to go to some place outside the U.S. this year.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

The Visible Woman...travels.

I'm up this morning laundering clothes and finishing unpacking bags. We have more than we left with. We visited our favorite NYC bookstore and bought two books. I saved a couple of play bills and bought two tiny Lego figures of the Statue of Liberty. FFP bought some cologne at the famous Upper East Side Drug Store, Clyde's, and they gave us a canvas bag tote. We have plenty of totes, but who else will be filling a Clyde's tote at the Farmer's Market. So, no, we didn't really accumulate too much stuff.

I try to travel light. On this trip, for a week for both of us, we took one very large checked bag (a 28 inch Eagle Creek) and one overhead carry-on bag (not too large) and a back pack for each of us. The weather promised to be cold with some chance of precipitation so we took mufflers, gloves, umbrellas and our overcoats. (No liners because that's overkill when it's above freezing which it promised to be most of the time.) The umbrellas are very tiny light ones. The hotel will lend us giant ones but you aren't always at the hotel when you realize you need one. It was so warm when we left Austin that we put our overcoats in our checked bag. We avoid the liquids and sharps silliness by putting our toiletries in there, too. That bag also has FFP's hiking boots (he wears some versatile dress/walking shoes on the plane), a sweater for me, a suit for each of us and two shirts for each of us. In addition, there is a supply underwear and socks for each of us.

In our carry-on we have some dressy slacks (we wear jeans on the plane), a few sets of underwear and socks, a change of shirt, FFP's ties, my dressy loafers (I wear the hiking boots on the plane), chargers, my spare glasses, etc. The umbrellas are stashed in there, too, and can be retrieved quickly at the airport. I wore a light sweater on the plane but FFP didn't so I put his one sweater in there.

In our backpacks we carry our iPads (phones are usually in our jacket pockets because we wear a blazer on the plane...they are stashed and locked in the backpack for the trip through security). FFP usually carries a book. I carry emergency things like OTC meds, band-aids, cough drops, hard candy, Kleenex. I also usually carry some sort of emergency snack in case the airline puts us in a situation where nothing is available. I have a folder full of itineraries, info and tickets on paper to back up electronic records accessible on the phone. I also duplicate IDs, credit cards and cash in a security thing. FFP carries his electric razor and some snacks, too, as well as his spare glasses and his sporty golfing cap. He carries his prescription drugs in there, too.

This is designed so that we can survive if our checked bag doesn't arrive or is temporarily lost. We have a clean shirt and underwear and socks. I have my dressy shoes. We can combine the blazers worn on the plane with the dressy slacks in the carry-on. and be presentable anywhere. A trip out to buy toiletries and a few other things and we are good to go. Since I'm checking the overcoats, of course, we might shiver or get a bit wet. If we were going to NYC in February we'd carry our overcoats on board and probably put the liners in them. And, hey, if the airline loses them...we haven't bought new ones in a while! I do pack the gloves, mufflers, etc. in the carry-on. They can make a blazer and sweater much warmer.

One cool thing about trips is that you figure out how little you really need to get along! I like milling around the hotel room with my newspapers and iPad without being taunted with books I haven't read and clothes I never wear. It creates a kind of focus that is, oddly, never quite available at home. It is similar to going out for a walk and a snack with the day's newspapers. Relieved of distractions of home, the news is more interesting. In New York this stark hotel room also provides respite from the busy, busy street scene or stores, people, vendor carts and traffic. I love it but a break is necessary now and then.

Home or Away?

The Visible Woman...travels.

If all goes well I'll wing my way home today from a successful and fun trip to New York City. But no matter how much fun it was I'll be glad to be home. It's always that way.

One thing I've done in retirement is try to treat being home as if it is travel. In that vein, I'll hunt up restaurants, shows, museum exhibits and interesting sights right here in Austin. Most of my friends do this, too, but some people think they have to leave town to have a vacation.

The Packing List Revelations

I'm getting ready to go on another trip. Not counting staycations (I think we did one of those, traveling about two miles and staying in a hotel for two nights) I have been on five trips this year and I'm heading out for another this week. Los Angeles, New Orleans (with a stop in Houston), Manhattan, the North Shore above Boston plus the Hamptons, Denver suburbs to visit family and now, this week, Portland, OR and environs. When I retired I thought it would be wonderful to travel without worrying about work. (In 2000, I went to Geneva, several places in Australia and Las Vegas for work in a short space of time. Probably made several other trips that year.)

I'm eager for this getaway to Oregon, a regular trip for us in August and one I look forward to all year long.

But another part of me is tired of pulling out the packing list and checking things off and organizing it all. Again.

The packing list.
At some point before that busy working 2000 year I decided to make a master packing list as a WORD document. The idea was that I'd copy it for each trip, edit it to eliminate things I wouldn't need for a trip, add special items and then check things off as I packed. As my life and the world evolved, of course, some things were added to or eliminated from the master list. The master list no longer calls out a PDA and spare stylus but does introduce the possibility of taking along a laptop, an iPod, an IPad and and iPhone or other cell. I've dropped off pantyhose and feminine sanitary supplies from the list. I no longer take a spare watch because, after all, doesn't every gadget tell time?

A few things are still on the list but get eliminated from the list almost every time: formal wear, robe (if the hotel doesn't have one, too bad), hair dryer (I try not to use one now and hotels usually have them). I almost never take our iPod either but sometimes it's a good thing to do.

A Downsizing Every Time
Most of us have too much stuff. But packing, particularly for a trip involving airlines, will focus one on what is really needed. If you can live on what's in that suitcase for a week or ten days, what do you really need?  I always sort of test myself out on whether I actually use everything I take. Of course, one gets a pass on emergency supplies. I always hope I don't need bandaids, Advil, stomach remedies, my tiny umbrella, spare credit cards and photo ID (kept separately from wallet), cough drops, stuff like that. But it's good to get home with almost all your under things and other clothing having been worn. If you took a book, you ought to have read it. My current dodge is to have reading material on the iPad and then to read one of the books FFP takes along. We always, always seem to visit a bookstore. And buy something. We buy papers along the way. We are never without something to read. But at home, of course, it's much worse with unread books, papers and magazines always threatening to topple from every surface.

If you have to carry it, you'll have less!

Always Take the Time-Tested
It's OK to take something new on a trip, I guess. (I'm bought a new carryon for this trip. And, yes, my packing list lists all the possible 'containers' that I might take.) But for clothes and shoes I like to take things I've comfortably worn at home. Walking shoes need to have at least fifty miles on them, preferably with some five mile stretches. Dress shoes need to have gone a few miles, too.

Money, Ticket, ID, Prescriptions
I don't take prescriptions. FFP does. The theory is that if you have money (and credit cards), your ID, tickets and prescription drugs that you can buy anything else. It's a reasonable theory, but FFP can't buy some things off the rack and it is tough for me to find clothes. Short sleeve shirts, polos, underwear, maybe shoes (but see above) could be replaced.

These days you'd be kind of lost without your smart phone. Or an iPad or something. Or both. But still, there are essentials and there are other things. We go on the plane wearing sturdy walkers, a decent shirt, nice jeans and a black blazer. Dress shoes are in the carryon (although FFP has come up with sturdy walkers that  also pass muster as dress shoes). I usually pack my dress shoes, a few under things and socks, a change of pants and shirt, prescription drugs, electronics and chargers, emergency stuff and tiny light umbrellas and lightweight anoraks in carry ons. We check one bag with more clothing, toiletries with liquids and sharps and such. I close the main compartment with a cable tie, cut off the end and place my trusty Swiss Army knife in the front pocket. If the inspectors (or thieves) open it, I'll know (unless they very carefully duplicate my cable tie color and trim). And if they steal the knife, I'll buy another. But I always have scissors, openers, etc. if my checked bag arrives.

Will You Remember What You Wore?
If the shoes hurt or you were cold or too warm, you might remember. If someone takes a photo of you, you might remember. I guess if you felt really out of place, then it might stick with you. But mostly if you were pretty comfortable, it's not what you remember about a trip. If someone takes a picture of me on a trip, I'm likely to be wearing...a black blazer!

A Trip to Regret
I am almost burned out from the traveling this year. The security lines, airline snafus, packing. But I have been trying for weeks to think of a trip I really regretted taking. Oh, there have been times I didn't mind leaving a place...to get home or go somewhere else. But later I never remember wishing I hadn't been there. I always saw something new, learned something new (sometimes about packing) or met some interesting person. So I'll keep on printing my list, packing and going.

Travel Looms

As soon as we get a piece of info about scheduling some medical tests we are going to assume that we can book some trips. Getaways. Fun. See new things. Revisit places we love. "New York and Portland [OR] are givens," said himself who is now a partner in pretty much all my travels.We'd considered taking a cruise some time, too. We'd even casually talked about doing one with another retired couple. We knew someone who was on the Costa Concordia (he and his companion got off unhurt). Gives you pause. I am a big believer in travel insurance and giving yourself a lot of options (taking spare glasses and your prescription; putting money, passports, credit cards in different places and one on your person if possible). But I don't think sinking ships or news of natural disasters or terrorists will keep us from traveling. We won't be going to the world's more dangerous places, of course.

We have even started blocking out some times and refusing to make plans for local events during those times.

I've always been a big fan of travel myself. When I traveled for business, I almost always found some time to do some sightseeing. When himself still worked his small business and wouldn't be gone for too long, we'd do long weekends and I'd go for longer trips with friends or meeting up with them and more or less going on my own. When I was a mere twenty-four years old I quit a perfectly good job and went to Europe armed with a Eurail Pass and a desire to see places that seemed impossibly far away during my impecunious childhood and college years. I've never regretted it.

So Bon Voyage to me. Multiple good trips. I hope. And even if something bad happens...well, if you don't survive...what a way to go. And if you do...what a story.

Where To Begin

After a long pause, I finally got around to writing a blog entry on Monday, November 14. I felt a bit adrift then. We were planning a little celebration (of our first date) with some friends. We had a trip to New York scheduled. (Which we took December 5-12. The above picture is our multiple reflections in one of the Bloomingdale Christmas windows.) I couldn't decide what, if anything to do about Christmas and the holidays. Whether to send cards, buy presents for anyone.

On November 16 my mother-in-law died. (The events of that day are somewhat interesting. See Forrest's description here.) That capped off a year and a half during which Forrest had a cancer scare and two surgeries; my dad died; his dad died; I disposed of my Dad's estate; he handled his dad's; and his mother died, leaving us parent-less. Then we begin disposing of his mother's estate.

There were three services, burials and such to arrange during what seemed like such a short time. There were fiduciary duties. There were (mercifully short) trips to MD Anderson, times in hospitals here. Three ambulance rides at the end for parents. Through it all we were very 'lucky.' Lucky FFP's cancer has apparently not spread. Lucky our parents didn't suffer too long. (My mother died in 2002 and, sadly, she did suffer a lot longer than I would have liked. My dad, of course, had his share of problems in the last few years.). But still. We were lucky. We had the money to handle things, for me to retire and take care of things for Dad after mother died. For Forrest to retire. We had time to see my dad through some trouble, to look after some things for his parents. We have the money now to not worry about money but just do what needs to be done with houses and stuff and all that.

Lucky or not, things are different. I realized after my dad died that I'd stayed young (in my own mind) and exuded confidence that I could take care of things trying to help him through his old age. Forrest did most of the things for his mom but her presence made me feel younger. Because she needed us, didn't she? Because we were young and strong and capable, right?

Now we can arrange to travel and not worry about what parental difficulties may arise at home. But, of course, we may find ourselves in difficulties. Can't really escape that.

We have kind of sleep-walked through the last six weeks. We went on with our schedule after a few days of handling my mother-in-law's services. We cleaned the valuables and mementos out of the house. We drifted through Christmas. I finally printed a few cards and sent them post-Christmas. We had a fancy dinner with friends on Christmas Eve and we were invited to a family gathering with someone else's family for Christmas Day. I didn't buy any presents except hostess gifts. FFP and I bought whatever we wanted and I sent money to my nieces and sister.

Now I wake up and it is 2012 and I'm vacillating between wanting to make some changes (blog, write my novel, exercise more, socialize with people, travel here, travel there, get rid of stuff, get new stuff) and wanting to roll down the shutters and be a recluse, changing as little as possible and buying nothing.

Where will I go with it? Will the blog record the journey or will I go back inside my head? Too early to tell. Going through old blog entries for the links in this entry make me realize that sometimes it does help just to write it down.

Datebook

Going through my dad's things yielded some surprises, some tears, some real finds. OK it was mostly trash and moderate treasure headed to the thrift store without regret. A few things were saved for me or my sister, a few other things judiciously given away. One thing I immediately moved to toss and then didn't was an Austin 2004 date book. Apparently someone gave it to him, maybe for Christmas. If so, he didn't write who gave it to him inside. Maybe he'd bought it for himself. After I retired, I taught him to go to Barnes and Noble, prowl around, read their books in the coffee shop. Sometimes he would buy things there.

Anyway he used it throughout the year to jot down his appointments and in a few cases who he visited with and what he had to eat. Pretty mundane stuff. I read through it all and moved to throw it away and then didn't. I trotted it out again and read all the mundane entries. The name of the urologist he didn't like and later fired. A bunch of appointments to see about a large goiter we'd just discovered. Appointments with a GP I later fired. A note on one day that he spent $14.35 on food. Indications that he planned to attend water aerobics, later abbreviated to H20 Arb or W-A. On January 17, 2004 he wrote 'Rain 5 inches over 3 or 4 days.' Emptied his rain gauge, I guess. This was back when he drove himself lots of places. Not everywhere. The surgeon considering his goiter was in St. David's big medical complex and he wanted me to take him there. He noted cards he mailed to his grandchildren and calls he made to his sisters. The gate code for an apartment where he picked up a woman and took her to church activities. Dates were noted for parties for a friend's 90th birthday and a couple's 50th wedding anniversary.

On June 2, he noted 'Linda and FFP to France.' On July 20 he wrote 'Fly out 12:30P to Frankford [sic].' He meant Frankfurt. Germany. He was eighty-seven years old and headed on an almost thirty day trip to Germany, England and Iceland with a friend. On August 17 he wrote: 'Return from London.' On the 18th: 'From Chicago at 1:30AM No luggage.'

The last six years weren't kind to my dad and he had some difficulties even back when keeping this datebook, but somehow these few scrawls show me just how in control of his life he was then and how much he was enjoying it in spite of everything.

I still haven't managed to throw it away.

Road Trip

In some ways the road trip we took, lasting a couple of days shy of two weeks and covering about 4500 miles, was essentially pointless. We had only two goals beyond the trip itself: (1) see some friends in Las Vegas and check out a hotel there that we had a free suite in for two nights; and (2) spend some time in the Portland, OR and Oregon coast area with some dear friends as we often do in August. We could have flown to these two destinations, burning three or four days on airplanes. Instead we spent about six and a half days on the road and spent three nights in Vegas and five nights in our Portland area destination.

The idea took hold, though. Once we decided to spend those days in those places and travel between them, I had a couple of long sessions with Internet TrikTiks from AAA, some scouring of hotel WEB sites, some conferring with friends on dates and plans, and the trip was afoot. Or acar, specifically, via our 2007 4 cylinder Honda Accord with new tires and a fresh maintenance run.

Getting away isn't easy these days. We arranged for people to give our elderly parents a hand, but then my dad ended up in the hospital for a couple of days after an antibiotic he was given sent his sodium perilously low. I almost thought we'd have to cancel. But we kept planning. I put together two notebooks, Outbound and Homebound with detailed driving instructions and hotel confirmations. I got new paper maps from AAA. I made lists, lists, lists.

There is something about the road running out under you, transferring you magically across the changing landscapes, listening to books on CD, nibbling road snacks, talking, laughing at what you see that concentrates your attention and gives you some perspective. I am energized most by the reality of people, what they wear, where they live, where they shop; by the signs, trash and animals (dead and alive and just promised by crossing signs) along the way. This is the same detail I find interesting in my walks around my own neighborhood but the details really stack up when you cover thousands of miles of the U.S.

So we do get to go on this lark of a trip. The car is all nicely organized. A bag with hiking boots, hiking socks, jackets and sweatshirts stuffed way in the back of the trunk for the Oregon coast. Small bags to take inside one night stand hotels. A bag with books on CD, an emergency first aid kit and a portfolio of DVDs. A small suitcase with some extra clothes. A laptop and its accouterments in a separate bag. Atop this in the trunk two hanging bags with extra shirts, slacks and a blazer each.

In the back seat, a small soft-sided cooler with a few drinks and a little cheese for first day. Also, two pillows; a canvas sack with plastic utensils, wipes and napkins; a canvas sack with peanut butter crackers, cereal bars, plain almonds, beef jerky; a backpack for each of us with gadgets and books. In the front a slim organizer for maps, directions, hotel confirmations, pens, receipts and two commuter cups full of fresh coffee. We are off around five in the morning. Our goal is to achieve escape velocity west out of Texas on our way to Las Vegas.

Las Cruces, NM is not a garden spot but it was a convenient place to lay over. We did our usual marvel at the 80 MPH speed limts on IH10 in W. Texas and the giant windmills turning ponderously on the bluffs in stretches of nothing. We ate at a restaurant specializing in New Mexican wine. In fact, I think, an actual extension of one or more New Mexican winery. The food and wine were forgettable. Our goal was to sleep and be off in the morning very early to make it all the way to Las Vegas. We had gone 618 miles. We needed to go 742 to get to Las Vegas.

Traveling is so different now than it used to be. Once there was no Internet mapping. No iPhone to pop out to help navigate. In fact, I remember road trips before air conditioning and seat belts. And certainly before cup holders, pay the pump, cell phones, singing shoulders (that rough pavement that wakes you up as you run off the road) and books on CD (or tape). Indeed before CDs and cassette tapes. And certainly before XM radio which the Accord also has. These things have changed travel as have more reliable radial tires. We saw few disabled vehicles.

I thought the car would become disorganized straight away, but the organization held up pretty well for the entire trip. Of course, I moved things around every time we stopped. The cooler only had cold packs when we had a frig with a freezer in the room which we did at most of the small Comfort Inns and such. Trash accumulated and was discarded, drinks were rearranged in the four cup holders in the front.

That second day on the way to Vegas was very scenic. From stately Saguaro cacti to mountains and amazing rock formations and rock-bordered lakes on the Colorado. I've traversed some of this before, of course. But it never gets old for me. I really liked Texas Canyon near Benson, AZ. I'm sure I'd been through there before, but I forgotten the majesty of the giant very rounded rock formations. I actually enjoy seeing the crumpled shells of old abandoned buildings and the various people at the stops. It's a long drive, though, and we arrive in Las Vegas pretty weary. We find the Wynn Encore and valet park, taking most of our stuff inside. We will stay here three nights. There are long check-in lines, but we finally get to a lovely suite. A sitting area, a perfect desk with power and Internet, a flat screen that twirls around between the sitting area and the area with the king-size bed. Lovely bedding, an iPod dock, a giant bathroom with a shower and a tub, two sinks, etc. This is no Comfort Inn.

Lest I devolve into a minute-by-minute (or day-by-day) account where I'm trying to convey some of the moments that make the trip worthwhile, I'll just briefly recap the rest of the trip. Spent three nights in Vegas. Ate several fabulous meals (one lunch with the aforementioned friends) and had lots of good eats and drinks. Slept, shopped, viewed a couple of the fabulous fake environments. Did not risk one cent gambling. Then we drove to Boise, Idaho. And then on to Vancouver, Washington across the Columbia from Portland, Oregon. We had a nice lunch on the Columbia, dinner in Portland and took off around noon the next day with our friends to spend a couple of nights on the Oregon Coast (Cape Meares). Then back to Vancouver. We made our pilgrimage to Powell's City of Books and added a new must-do to Portland shopping: Everyday Music down the street from Powell's. We attended an Oregon wine tasting, had a super fab meal where we got to see a very dear friend I've known since Junior High. Our Portland-area friends made every minute of these three days fantastic by knowing places to go, cooking for us and enjoying music and movies with us. Then we spent three days driving the couple of thousand miles home. I used to keep much more detailed records of the activities and not just in tweets and facebook photo uploads. Start here for such a recount of a 2005 trip. Sometimes I wish I kept the details of my life like that now, but it is just so much work.

Was it worth it? Did we see anything like the Eiffel Tower (real not Vegas one) or even the Grand Canyon (which was, after all, right there in Arizona)? Could it be said to be restful what with going from hotel to hotel and doing all that driving? To those who see the very real problem of making sense of this 'vacation' I can only offer the following bits of narrative and flashes of images which make it all worthwhile for me.

• Sitting down with our friends in Vegas, listening to the narrative of how they live in the Vegas suburb of Henderson, sharing stories and seeing how they are handling their retirement.
• Enjoying the wonderful suite in Vegas, having good simple steak as well as delicacies like lamb's tongue and sweetbreads and marveling at the over-the-top ostentation, but still getting a feeling of escape when watching the lights recede as we plunged into the lonely desert to make our way north on the loneliest highway in America.
• Wondering why all the road kill seemed so dry and dessicated as if it had been a long time since anything fresh was felled. Also, wondering at how trucks can throw all that rubber that I mistake for roadkill. Laughing as the silhouettes on the game crossing signs got more and more exotic with bigger and bigger racks with the passing miles on Highway 93 in Nevada aka the aforementioned 'loneliest highway in America.' Along said highway, by the way, we found the people very friendly and the restrooms rather clean. Highlight of our animal spotting was a walk to feed goats pinned near the Oregon coast and seeing a tiny pig survive a run across the road in Texico, NM. (This is the first live pig in the road on my life list. I have seen a dead one.)
• Wondering why every other customer in a combo convenience store/gas station/Domino's pizza joint was American Indian. Then realizing we were driving on a reservation.
• Loving the feeling of crossing the map, turning the pages in the book of directions, recalling past experiences in some of the places. Also: I can now say I've been in Idaho and Utah. I don't think I'd ever crossed those state lines before.
• Seeing the same franchises in place after place and knowing that it is really possible to mostly avoid them. An exception to this is occasionally made, of course. FFP finds a particular concoction of a freshly-made Subway sandwich good for filling his stomach. I started to laugh as he searched for Subway outlets, particularly before 9AM but he often found them. We also stopped at one McDonald's to fill a cup with coffee and use the bathrooms. We filled up at more local places on our one-night stands: brew pubs in Boise and Salt Lake and the Owl Diner in Albuquerque, for example. We were asked by one of the owners of our Austin Ruth's Chris if we tried the one in Vegas. But, no, only 'our' Ruth's Chris will do. We look for something different on the road and our affection for that particular Ruth's Chris is not transferable, generally.
• Speaking of dining: we did some of the 'fine' variety. Sure, Austin has a wonderful dining scene. But I swear Portland never ceases to make me sit up and take notice. This trip we tried out Wildwood, Metrovino and Davis Street Tavern. All stunning. Add to that the amazing cooking of our friend Tina and eating some fine food in Vegas and we had that element we demand from vacation: fine, fresh and adventurous food. From roasting freshly-bought oysters on a fire to eating offal in Vegas, I'll remember the food and the fun.
  
• Speaking of filling coffee cups. Taking along our Nissan stainless 12 oz. commuter cups allowed me to have a steady stream of surprisingly good coffee provided at prices ranging from free (yes, free) to a little over a buck. That McDonald's filled the cup for thirty-five cents. And no. No, Starbucks. Not one. Of course, many of these spots were chain convenience stores associated with gas stations but they all had a whiff of the local entrepreneur about them.
  
• Speaking of gas stations. We stopped at several Sinclairs with the good old green Sinclair dinosaur. This surprised me because this brand was subsumed in Texas in the '70's I think, by Atlantic Richfield. Which became part of BP decades later, of course. I guess I didn't know the cute dinosaur survived anywhere, and it was one of those little details I enjoyed.
• Reading. Honestly, I took along several books and some old newspaper sections and didn't read much of them. But I did enjoy papers we bought or got along the way and I did enjoy the books we listened to on CD. We caught up with the Swedish novel "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." Even better relative to the passing landscape and the highway system, we listened to "Lolita" which besides being a telling investigation of pedophilia is a paean to driving the U.S. highway system with its motels and tourist sites in the '50's. We also listened to a book about the Panama Canal which was a constant reminder of how hard it was to cross the continent even in the early 20th century. Funny while driving in air-conditioned luxury at around 70MPH even on 'lesser' roads.
• Speaking of driving again, I find the long drives, supported by planning routes and sleep stops like a giant game. We try to observe the speed limits exactly, minimize wrong turns and long stops. Each caffeine-fueled mile feels like victory even when the scenery isn't the best.
• A walk on the beach. The beautiful Pacific. Sunset. A three or four mile walk. Ah. Of course, my mother-in-law didn't know why we needed to go to the west coast when we've 'already been to the east coast.' And, of course, we'd already walked on that Cape Meares beach, too. My mom-in-law has not seen the ocean to my knowledge nor left the state of Texas. She probably doesn't know that the Idaho license plate says something about Potatoes. I'm just saying. What's important in this world?
• People, people, people. Great to see friends along the way. But also great to see strangers. The couple reading books about beavers in Powell's City of Books coffee shop. She had a T-Shirt that said 'No religion. No flag. No fear.' The truck drivers and other travelers. Was a little upset with the guy dragging three trailers and having trouble holding the lane when I passed him and he was reading a book. But, yeah, all those people, doing their things. Including hundreds at the Tillamook Cheese factory. I didn't see the attraction, but I did enjoy seeing the tourists there. And wondering...why? Although there were free cheese cubes. And a cafe and ice cream shop and gift shop.
  

Yeah, I loved our trip. I think it puts me more in touch with the greater U.S. where almost twenty percent of people live in manufactured homes and where some of the clerks ringing up those coffee fill-ups may not stray far from the little town you are going through as fast as you can. I wouldn't want to only do that mindless driving, staying in Quality Inns and Comfort Suites, some of which look like they've fought a battle. But mixed in with fine dining, beautiful scenery, wonderful visits with friends, it worked for me. Missed a small crisis for my dad or, rather, got in on the tail end of it, but the caregivers managed it. So it goes. See you in the rear view mirror.

Where Were You?

Yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake in Northern California. I happened to notice a news story today in my news feed (I probably subscribe to too many feeds because I'm always behind...just like the newspapers). Anyway, this is the earthquake that collapsed a double-deck portion of a freeway in Oakland. I was nowhere near the earthquake. I was, in fact, about 6000 miles away in the south part of France. Nevertheless, I remember it well. I walked from a little country inn perched near Mougins Village in France to the village to buy newspapers. Both the International Herald Tribune (in English) and the French paper had huge headlines about the earthquake. My friends and I crowded into a public lounge at the inn (the only place with a TV) and watched coverage. We were frustrated when they cut off the voice of someone they were interviewing to dub in the French translation. I read the French newspaper (with the aid of my pocket electronic translator) and they described the freeway scene with the collapsed deck on the cars below as 'coffins of concrete.'

Thinking back to that time twenty years ago, made me realize how we connect to big events and disasters based on where we are and what we are doing...even if it's far away from the site.

I finished listening to cassettes in my car about British Kings and Queens. I still can't remember all the Georges and all the hanky-panky and wars. But, of course, I remember when Princess Di was killed. I was home for that one and I think FFP woke me up to tell me the news. A short time later I was in Paris and there was a memorial near the underpass where the wreck occurred.

We all remember where we were when Kennedy was assassinated (if we were alive). I was in History class.

And, of course, 9/11. I saw the first report of the plane flying into the WTC on a tiny 5inch B&W TV we kept in the bathroom at the Shoal Creek house. I think I also heard about the 1994 Northridge earthquake on this TV. I called my Northridge friend. The phones were out. I called my friend in San Dimas and my Northridge friend was there (thankfully).

In 1981 we had a big flood in Austin. Thirteen people died in and around Shoal Creek. I remember the party in the unfinished penthouse of a bank building on 15th Street, watching the storm develop. And leaving early because we were in black tie and sunburned and uncomfortable and, after we got home and changed, deciding not to go out again because it was raining so hard. And waking the next morning incredulous at the destruction and amazed at the debris line in our backyard.

I don't remember when I first heard about August 1, 1966, the day Charles Whitman mounted the UT tower to bring down people with a high-powered rifle. I was in Sacramento, California on a trip with my sister. So I wasn't even in Texas. Little did I know how close Whitman came to changing my future, though, gunning down someone a few scant feet from my future husband, someone I didn't even know at the time.

I think the message is this: if there is going to be a disaster, you should be close to me. I'll be far away or, at least, oblivious and safe. But we always remember a lot about the time, don't we? And where we were.

Stuff Happens

Boy I look fat. But then...I am fat. I look solemn but I was really feeling pretty good. Can you see the glass cowboy hat in the window?

We took a walk into old West Austin today. FFP went with me and we ate a sandwich at Portabla. Delicious. We could have lunch and dinner (breakfast, too, probably) at a different place without repeating for many weeks, all walking. It's awesome.

We planned a trip! To New York. For Bloomsday. I'm almost finished with Ulysses. Bloom is home, in bed, pondering it all.

I'm having some interesting computer issues. I'm doing a few chores, enjoying my life, reading papers. I'm not blogging anything of value. So it goes.

Home Alone

This dark image where I'm barely seen, sort of presented (and protected?) by a mannequin was, I thought, appropriate for the Holidailies writing prompt: "Home Alone".

I haven't spent many holidays alone. I have spent quite a bit of time otherwise alone. Mostly before I married or, during our marriage, on business trips or pleasure trips where I spent some time with friends and some time alone.

But there was one Christmas before I married. I hadn't moved to Austin yet and I lived in an apartment on Abbott Street in Highland Park, a city surrounded by the city of Dallas. It is a fancy pants place to live only I lived in the slums part of it, near a railroad track. (If you are reading this today and know the area and are saying 'huh?' then I'll say the tracks are a hike and bike trail now.)

Anyway, I didn't have vacation to get away with my folks to go see my sister and her small children in Colorado. I think I must have just moved into the apartment. It was furnished so it had a sofa, a dining table and chairs and a bed and dresser. I added some stuff of my own which included at the time, if I'm not mistaken, a desk made from cubes with drawers and open spaces and a large white top. (The cubes have mostly survived and some are storing things in the storage cage here and we painted a few black for incidental uses in the condo.) I mention the desk for later reference. My mom had gone with me to buy it.

So my parents were going to leave and I had to stay and work. I worked a few blocks from the apartment (on McKinney Avenue) and it was a little neighborhood with a grocery store, drug store, bars, a cafeteria, an ice cream store, a furniture store, an army surplus store and a secondhand book store. The year was before 1975 (moved to Austin before Thanksgiving that year) but after 1972. I think I was unemployed the Christmas of 1972, having only recently returned from a vagabond trip to Europe that lasted from Labor Day until the first week of December when, with cold setting in and my Eurailpass expired and the money running out (I'd spent maybe two thousand dollars in three months!), I decided to return. I eventually got a job at a credit insurance company doing programming and after living in a different apartment in the Cedar Springs neighborhood and then with my parents, I'd gotten the apartment on Abbott. So this could have been Christmas 1973. Only ten months on the job, not much vacation.

My parents left town, like I said. I had two aunts who lived in Oak Cliff (a suburb across the Trinity to the south), but they went to West Texas to visit their sisters.

I'm sure I worked most of the days except the actual holiday so it wasn't like I was that alone. My parents and sister had given me presents and said I should open them Christmas morning and call them. I'm sure I'd never been alone on Christmas morning in my life.

I don't remember all the presents, but I remember liking them. Several were on the theme of the 'home office' inspired by me putting together that desk in the apartment. I got a pencil sharpener that you could attach to a surface with a lever-operated suction cup. Remember pencils? Anyway, I liked my presents. Maybe I got a book or two. I remember making a pot of coffee (I used a percolator then) and I had the newspaper (I might have subscribed to the Dallas Morning News at the time). I opened my presents. Gushed about them over the phone to my folks in Colorado. (I don't remember much about the conversation. They were probably caught up in the kids' Christmas becasuse my nieces were five and three that year.)

It felt delicious. I had some new things. This was back when a present could add something to my life. I didn't have that many things yet. I had coffee, the newspaper to read, no demands. I read every word in that edition of the paper, I think. Maybe I sharpened some pencils and wrote something. (If so it is either lost or buried in a box of paper journals I've yet to uncover.)

I don't think I've ever been alone for an entire Thanksgiving or Christmas Day since. I'm not sure about Thanksgiving 1972, but they don't celebrate in Europe in any case and I did have friends there although I also traveled alone quite a lot.

Would I ever want to spend a day entirely alone again? Not really. FFP and I were commenting yesterday about how nice it is to have someone else around. Even if we do things on our own during the day (errands, workout, walk, our obligations to boards and meetings and his interviews) and even if sometimes we are in the condo but on different tracks (he is cooking eggs for himself and I'm blogging right now) there is the feeling that you have someone around and it is nice.

My dad spends whole days alone these days. (Although we'd never let him be entirely alone on a holiday.) He says he doesn't mind it. However, today he found a ride to church to play games and asked me to pick him up after. He's been home alone since Tuesday, I think, when I stopped by to do a couple of things for him.

There are people who prefer to be alone, for sure. I spent many nights alone before and after I married in hotel rooms (or before marriage in apartments), but usually I had some interaction with people during the day. A few times I was by myself among strangers for a few days. But, really, I've rarely been home alone. And I'm not looking forward to a time when that would be a regular thing. But that one Christmas, that one day, with my loved ones far away but represented by presents and their voices? With the coffee and the newspaper and the quiet? That was sort of delicious.

Change of Scene

Sometimes it's good to have a change of scene. No, the picture doesn't reflect that. I was so cold yesterday in San Antonio that I didn't want to get out the camera and take a picture. But we got a change of scene by going to San Antonio, staying in a drafty attic 'penthouse' of a Bed and Breakfast downtown, eating in a fancy restaurant with some old friends on the Riverwalk and yeah walking around in San Antonio in the cold. Which is odd. Although we used to traditionally visit San Antonio in late May back in the era of rain and it always, always rained on us.

The picture is a reflection of an odd design shop in the 'new' AMLI building near us downtown. I haven't much else to say today although I have a couple of essays (if you want to call them that) in mind for the remaining Holidailies entries. We shall see. Anyway, go out there and get yourself a change of scene. We arranged this because we bought the stay (and a discount at the restaurant) in a charity auction. It made us act on seeing some old friends and that was good. The riverwalk looked beautiful (if chilly) with all the lights.

Disappearing Dad

In some ways my dad is so much more in my life these days. Every morning, first thing, before or during my first cup of coffee, I usually call him. We joke and I check on a few things and see what he's doing and planning. If I forget to call, he will often call me so I won't call when he's in the bath or busy making his breakfast. If he needs anything serious, I'm there for him. I take him to doctors and surgery and do errands when he isn't up to it. These days a trip to the grocery store is usually too much for him. He is shrinking and one shoulder seems dipped down.

This picture was taken a bit over ten years ago, in August 1997. Dad is toasting something on board a small ship that we (my parents, two aunts and an uncle) took through the waterways of Russia. (That's my late mother in the background looking pretty good herself.) My dad wasn't exactly moving fast then, but he stood stronger, straighter, taller. I was watching out for all these old folks and pointing out the many uneven pavements and step ups and other hazards. He wasn't the one I worried about the most since one of my aunts had injured her arm before the trip started and the other one fell at the airport in Russia and pulled up a bit lame for the trip and my mother had a history of blackouts and falls.

I was taking Dad on an outing on Wednesday and I was thinking how small he seemed, how I seemed to tower over him now as he wheeled his walked along at the mall where we were going to get him a haircut.

Will he just shrink until he disappears? It is sad. I remember this feeling of towering over my grandmother as she shrank, but I was taller to start with. Then the feeling of being taller than my mother when actually I had been shorter until her spine started to compress.

My dad had a world class wanderlust. It is a gene, I think, and there are lots of people in areas like Texas that were fairly recently frontiers that have it. Unfortunately, he didn't have much money with which to scratch the itch to travel. So we patched together road trips on cheap gas, relatives' extra beds and campgrounds. As he gradually had more money there were motels, hotels, even airplanes. At some point in the '90's my parents realized that they had driven through or visited all 48 contiguous states. They took a cruise to Alaska and then, of course, Hawaii loomed. Somehow they talked me into booking a cruise around the islands for their 55th wedding anniversary in 1996. I joked that soon they'd be getting passports and filling in the countries. Sure enough, they did get passports and went off on a tour of the England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. My dad loved beautiful, green Ireland and thought he could live there. Or maybe it was the stout and whiskey. So it wasn't a huge leap for them when my aunt suggested they go along on a cruise on the Russian waterways.

My parents had a friend living in Germany and she was urging them to come visit while she was there, but they never got it done while my mother was alive. They continued driving to Colorado and having adventures and they participated with me and two friends in a great road trip in 1998. They put a lot of energy into moving in 2000. It took a lot, too, with 33 years worth of my dad's pack rat, use everything depression era ways and my mother's stuff magnet hobbies (miniatures, spinning, weaving). My dad was energetic during that move. I went back to Mesquite with him one last time with a trailer so he could transport back here rocks, fossils, plants, one pet box turtle living in the yard and some sad lawn furniture. Dad had energy then and he was standing tall. He hung bird feeders in his yard, had an outdoor shed built for seed and yard things, planted and poked about. There is no energy for this now. The giant ferns he has cultivated on the glassed-in porch no longer get re-potted and it is usually the maid who waters them.

My dad is much more of a presence, more of a concern to me. But physically he seems to be disappearing, shrinking, leaving me a millimeter at a time. On the phone, he occasionally sounds like my strong dad of old. The one who rescued me in cars that broke down, throwing on a tow chain around my bug's bumper or who handled tasks requiring strength and agility well beyond anything I ever managed. Now if he drops something on the floor, he has to maneuver around with his 'grabber' on his walker to get it up. In the morning he makes a trip to the curb with his walker that has brakes and a basket and gets his paper with the grabber. His world is shrinking, too. He does get out for activities, but it wears him out to do so and long trips are out of the question. He did renew that passport he got in the late nineties, but only for an extra form of ID. He doesn't really see himself leaving the country again. In fact, his granddaughters and their four small children are coming for a visit because jumping in a car and driving to Colorado is no longer an option. He and mom used to do this even in the winter. Getting on a plane seems daunting, too. After my mother died, Dad and I managed several car trips to Colorado and Dallas. He made that trip to Germany and then went back a few years later with a friend and they also visited Austria, England and Iceland. He checked off a few more countries than my mom ever made. He said of the younger (my age) women who took him on this trip: "Everywhere those girls wanted to go was uphill." But he made it. Now it is clearly out of the question. It's hard to say when the corner was turned.

All of us Boomers (the ones who haven't already been consumed by stroke or cancer or diabetes or heart disease or something) think they we won't shrink. That we can be larger than life for all time. That we won't diminish, disappear, sag into gravity and finally return to the earth. But we will. When we look at our shrunken parents, we are looking into the future. A smaller and smaller future.

Rules

Yesterday on the tennis court one of my companions was wearing a T-Shirt that said 'Bahrain.' My other companion (there were only three of us at that moment although someone came along later to play true doubles with us) asked "Have you been to Bahrain?" I answered for her: "She has rules. In bed every night by 8:30 and she'd never wear a T-Shirt if she hadn't been there." She agreed that those were indeed rules of hers. As we continued playing I was thinking that I had that rule about T-Shirts, too. But I was puzzling over something, some rule I had, that someone had found very amusing. Ah, yes, the postcard thing.

I always tried to only send postcards that showed things I actually saw, preferably from an angle at which I observed them and in the right weather and season. I know. Silly rule. And not always possible if you want to actually buy and send a postcard. Nevertheless. My friend Maggie of Cape Town took me in 1997 to Addo Elephant Park. We stayed in the park in a fenced area with a little shop, a restaurant, a bird hide and a swimming pool. We went on day and night trail rides and saw elephants, antelopes and eland, took a swim in the pool, saw beautiful little red birds (Cape Bishops) in the hide. In the gift shop, my friend Maggie picked up a postcard that was one of those collages of the sights of the place. She checked them off with her index finger...the Cape Bishop, the elephant, the swimming pool, etc. "You can buy this," she said. "You've seen them all!" I did. My friend Maggie, rest her soul, had a good sense of humor and of my rules.

The postcard here breaks my rule in many ways. It's just an image stolen from ebay long ago however. It's Houston, a long time ago with a blimp flying over. Weird, huh? But I wasn't going to send the image to someone with a 'wish you were here' greeting. If I'd wanted to do that (for Houston?) I would have wanted the picture to look like, you know, where I was! I can't remember the last time I was in Houston although I've been to Katy a couple of times in the last year or so. I used to go on a pretty regular basis when I worked and FFP and I have enjoyed some fun times there doing museums and restaurants and some performances.

I Once Shot Shops in Other Latitudes

I am so whiny. I know I got to go on my (blizzard-shortened) jaunt to New York not so very long ago. But now I'm wondering if time and circumstance will allow travel any time soon. (Not to mention gas prices and air fares.) It's sad to be retired and unable to travel. Of course, moving to a condo is supposed to be a first step to making travel easier. We just have to weather it, so to speak. It is clear, though, that we will be needing to get hired help for our parents to make those trips and who is to say that their circumstance might not necessitate our presence. Don't you laugh when you see those ads from financial advisers showing smiling and fit gray-haired sixty-somethings pursuing their dreams on beaches or in exotic locales. If you'd invested with some of those 'advisers' you probably wouldn't be smiling plus you wonder where the elderly, needy parents or the return to the next ne'er do well children are at that moment. (Fortunately I don't have children, but I certainly have younger relatives who aren't providing for themselves too handsomely.)

Maybe the young people are right...spend it now whether you have it or not, mooch off the older people if possible and HAVE FUN. Because you never know.

Yes, I know how lucky I am. And yet...I wish I were taking shop window pictures in Paris or Vienna or even Portland...where this one was taken.

I Always Wanted To...

FFP had always wanted to go to the Café Carlyle and see Bobby Short. Then we got to do it. I couldn't say what year at the moment. Bobby is dead now and after the recent remodel his portrait is in the little hallway between Café Carlyle and Bemelmans Bar. I posed FFP with the portrait on our trip last month.

Everyone has lists of things they want to do. I feel like I've gotten to do most of the things that I wanted to do in my life. I say that I have this dream to go to all the Grand Slam Tennis Tournaments. [Ed. Note: You did go for one day to Wimbledon.] I say I have a dream to follow the Danube to the Black Sea (on one or more trips). Truthfully, though, while I do want to travel to a lot of places and can't wait until my obligations make that more possible, I'm pretty happy with my life here in Austin. I'd like to beat back some of this downsizing and moving stuff so that we can live the dream of just walking out the door of our building to a cab and not worrying about a house. This assumes we can hire people to look after the parents, too, if needed.

Naturally, some of our dreams are under-financed, too. But truthfully it is mostly about time and obligations at this point. I'm not saying I have the money for all my dream vacations. Because I don't. I think I'd like to reach the point where money was the thing holding me back. And at some time before my infirmities are in charge.

That is the race we run, isn't it? With money, time, obligations and health. And no one is immune. I read in the paper that Roger Federer had battled mono in recent months. Hmm...maybe my chance to see him win a Grand Slam in person is past!

Meanwhile, someone seems to have stolen an hour in the night.

By Design

Part of a design exhibit up at MOMA when we were there was an Airstream trailer. Airstreams have fed my imagination since I was a teen. (One of my unwritten pieces, either a short story or a memoir, is "Airstream Dreams.") We enjoyed walking around the MOMA, taking pictures, seeing a few pieces we'd seen before and the special exhibits. Lines weren't so long as our last visit which was right after the renovation and move back to 53rd.

More New York thoughts later. Right now it's time to play tennis on a cool Austin almost spring day.

I've Been Touring

FFP and I don't normally do tours. We book flights, hotels, make reservations and go it on our own. That will probably continue to be our norm, but if Stuart Moulton, pictured above is putting together a trip, I'm there! We had a short jaunt to New York City under his care. We had a couple of weather-related flying setbacks, but Stuart's planning and execution was amazing. He's really a Realtor and the leader of Austin Cabaret Theatre but if you like food and cabaret shows (and fashion we understand from some other participants) there couldn't be a better guide to New York.

I took the picture of Stuart at the Cafe Carlyle after we heard Judy Collins (you heard that right!). More later on the trip, but thanks Stuart! I'm ready to move into the Palace Hotel and let you plan my life!