Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Traveling Dog

Hello Good People and Pups of Blogville! Macy Blue here, fresh from my vacay in Loosiana! I had a great time.

I wasn't so sure about flying....lotsa people around.

But Momma kept telling me I was OK and I believed her...but I think she slipped me some "funny cheese" to help me chill out! Momma said she really didn't like the accommodations on Delta - that the bulkheads were way too small compared to the other airlines she's traveled...but this was my first pair of flights. It was pretty tight!

But I loved being at my Granny's even if "someone" didn't walk me for the whole 10 days we were there!  But I got lotsa exercise. My Granny's yard is hooooge!!! And she's got lotsa lizards!


We went there cause my Mom hasn't made a trip in two years... she lost my angel sis Mabel Lou last spring and I had so many issues, Momma was uncertain about traveling with me. But Gran needed lotsa help around her big yard and house so we had to go. Momma stayed so busy! She trimmed the trees for three days! Hauled limbs to the street, chopped firewood, cleaned gutters, picked veggies, showed Gran how to use the weedwhacker. During the "heat of the day"... that's a joke but I think Mom means the middle of the day, she worked in the house. Cleaning, redoing Granny's clocks, fixing the stove, fixing the phones, etc. Momma just stayed busy busy!

But as for the heat of the day... it was always hot! Momma kept complaining of something called "flop sweat" and was always wiping her face with a towel.  She was changing clothes twice a day!  It was  hot even at night! This is me drinking some of my Granny's captured Loosiana rainwater:

Momma didn't like me doing that but...my water bowl was a whole 'nother 10 feet away! Geez!  And don't I look hotified here:


The main reason I was so hot was I invented a new sport or lizard hunting technique called Hosta Diving. See that row of green plants??? Those are my Granny's hostas.

Momma said I reminded her of those snow foxes that know there is a rat deep under the snow and they leap in the air and dive under the snow. Only I knew there was a lizard in the hostas... so I would leap up and dive in and disappear! Momma and Granny laughed at my efforts until they saw the bounty of my hunts!

Even though we rarely left my Granny's no wifi zone... and Mom was too popped to walk me, we got to the dog park once... I made a friend and my Granny even came with...she's watching me from the shade back there... Every dog in the place loved my Granny! They all came up to her for pets. I got a little jealous at this one chichi that kept sitting in her lap...not that I want to sit in her lap or anything!

Momma did take me to meet my cousin Bailey who lives 10 houses from Granny. Seriously in the midday Loosiana heat, that was enough of a walk. We drove there a few times it was so hot. But I LOVED my cousin...he's so cool!!!  He let me play with his toys and we both try to "out pee" one another in the yard.


But the best part, was my Granny. She had spoiled me a bit here at Christmas but she spoiled me even more at her house. She was amazed that, now, I let her pet me! I've learned to trust the humans my Momma likes a bit! I even stayed alone with my Granny when my Mom had to run to the store and I didn't complain at all!

I really enjoyed my vacay but Momma says she hurts all over. She's moving mighty slow since we got back!

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Her Life in Pictures: Five

I started blogging in this year... and Mabel managed to make her first mention in post number 3! It wasn't long before she was the main subject and chief muse of this blog. That gave Mabel Lou another reason to beg me to get off the computer as she's doing here:

I just love these very rare shots of her looking straight at the camera!

In addition to our in the furs friend, Baby, at the creek, we had an occasional hiking buddy named Cocoa. Here's Mabel showing off her ball chasing abilities as Cocoa watched.


And that summer we met our dear friends Sue and Hank...the Rhodesians that live up the street from us. Oh what a trio they made: 

I took a production job that year and Mabel did not like it and tried her best to look all cutified in the mornings so that maybe I would stay home:



But I managed to get her out for some creek time most every day:


It was around this time that this photo style started appearing:

Mabel needed a daily baptism in the creek. I finally realized she did this EVERY single day. The only exceptions were the rare extremely cold or extremely windy days. No hike was ever complete until she did this.

My business had it's most successful year ever. I had money in the bank for once and just loved being at home with my baby. I bought my first torch and started making glass beads. I was just happy to be with my girl! She had grown up and settled down and I was finally in love with her. Hard to believe now that I honestly thought she would be one of "those dogs" that would simply pass through my life and that I would not love her. Her puppy years were hell and I did not like her at all during that time... but that was long behind us.

Here she is, ready to go to the post office and on to the creek.
Having a little money meant my first grown up vacay by myself! I had never gone on a trip without friends or to visit family. It remains my only one! I went to the Bead and Button Show in Milwaukee for a week of glass classes. My mom came out for an extended stay to babysit. Here she is spoiling her granddog:

And for my weird story. The day I came home from the vet's without Mabel, ^^ that photo was on my computer wallpaper. Here's the weird part. I didn't put it there! I change my wall paper when I buy a computer and I always pick the stock beachy pic that comes with the Microcrap software...that's it. I never do it again. I don't know how this pic got there. I didn't even know what file the photo was from for over a week... VERY Odd!

Later that year, I found out I had been feeding Mabel contaminated food. We caught it in time...but it was a very scary period! Here she is after her blood tests:


It took us a few weeks to get all her health issues worked out. Her meds made her groggy and unhappy.

But soon, she was back on the trails with her two besties, Hank and Sue:


Friday, December 27, 2013

Vibrant December / Pink Christmas

Southern California blows my mind in December. It's a shame that I've lived here since 1987 and have only managed to spend a handful of Decembers in my transplanted home state.

Since we start to get a bit more rain, the clouds make for spectacular sunsets.

And the trees! December seems to be our "fall color" month and the trees seem to decorate themselves. I think it's one of the reasons I'm so unenthusiastic about decorating a Christmas tree... I would rather be outside, taking it all in.


Even a trip to the grocery store reveals trees in vibrant orange that go unnoticed the rest of the year:
These mulberry branches are so thick that Mabel and I hid out under them when we were caught in a sudden summer rain. We only left when we realized the stream was getting too wide to leap over. But in December, they are so bare, they wouldn't protect us from a sprinkle:
But they don't strip before putting on a show:
The crisp cool air makes the moon feel magical coming over the mountains:
It feels lovely to be hiking the North / South trail in the creek with the moon coming up on one side and sun setting on the other:

 Mabel is fascinated by the leaves, especially those floating on the water:

I love this shot because you cannot tell where land ends and the creek begins!


I thought I would tack a personal bit on about the holiday as my mother's Facebook minions that share everything little thing I post with her, will have gotten bored by now if they bothered to click over.

Mom somehow convinced herself that I was going Louisiana for Christmas. This freaked several in the family out! I think she truly didn't believe that I would leave her all alone the first Christmas after my sister died, even though I had begged her to come here for months. We had a very sad phone call on Christmas Eve when I had her check her caller and i.d. and "do the math" to realize... I simply couldn't make it to Baton Rouge for Christmas.

In the end, I think it's good for her to be alone with her grief a maybe start to realize her only family is in California.

Me??? I found myself having a pink Christmas! I eschewed my usual olive or forest greens with the occasional pop of red for...PINK. I think it was so I could wear this:

It was my sister's and I found myself wearing it everywhere. It made me feel like I was taking her out to see the sights of Christmas and to every party I attended. I think it might be my new Christmas color!

Sunday, July 07, 2013

Thoughts on the Trip

The three of us are Home! Mabel Lou, Baby and I made it home. We are thrilled and happy despite a rude little flight attendant that didn't like big dogs and the fact that our flight was originally headed to San Francisco and we had some unhappy co-passengers!

This is Mabel Lou's first creek hike last night. I was pointing the camera at her and asked, "Mabel, are you HAPPY?" and this is what I got:


It was such a lovely night with friends... until Hank and Sue took off and met a skunk! I spent the evening taking supplies to their Mom. Poor babies!

+++++++++++

I haven't spent much time in Louisiana in the summer in such a long time and I was struck by so many contrasts between my two homes...


Ripoff Report:
It's odd to me what items are expensive in one place vs. the other. In Louisiana, milk and produce are much more expensive... and there's a dairy just outside Baton Rouge. But milk is about a $1.25 more in most stores! And produce prices are terribly high there...is it because more people garden and there is less demand?

I had to buy some of these for a friend in CA recently.
They were a buck a piece! Really??? What mom would buy pre-made frozen sandwiches for a buck each! That tag is from Louisiana and that price would make them .598 cents each! Why such a big price difference???

Gasoline is nearly a buck more a gallon here. Our government claims it's the "expensive" detergents required to meet California summer emissions...  Excuse me while I laugh.

I know housing is so pricey here but many other things are the same or even less...

DUCK Goose!

The first day I visited my Mom at rehab, I was over the moon to see this goose family a few feet from my car:

I'm kinda terrified of geese...I was attacked by them once on a film location!  But the bird babies got me. By the time Mom left, one of the babies was MIA. One evening as I was driving home, I stopped my car in the middle of the street because the family was passing. I was honked at and given the middle finger salute and not one vehicle stopped for the family! OK, we're talking a grand total of three cars on this remote street but still!

Cut to my trip to the thrift store this morning: I see a local peacock family crossing my street. I stopped. Mom looked beat to bits...like a coyote got a hold of her. I was most surprised to see a big male helping her tend the two chicks.

And the three other cars that I encountered??? They all stopped and watched! There's something to be said for us nutty Californians!

God is Everywhere
Funny but that sort of sums up my religious philosophy but, in the case of the South, I mean it literally! It was to the point where it was starting to offend me and I'm a very spiritual person who also believes in leaving others to make their own dang minds up. If you ask me, I'll tell you what I believe and why but I don't go around trying to lead a flock anywhere. Heck, there as days I feel I've done a good job and if me and dog are still alive at the end of it!

But there are NUMEROUS religious television channels on 24/7! My personal favorite was a charlatan who insisted God would bless me if I only sowed a "thousand dollar favor" to plant a "triple favor seed" with the Lord....(That's ONLY 84 dollar a month!)  By "the Lord" he meant his ministry.   When I think of some of the dim witted, but kind-hearted folks I know that would fall for this crap, it gives me greater understanding of the old Southern phrase "he needed killin!" I really don't understand how the FCC can allow such cons on the air!

And then with the 4th of July even the local yokel news anchors were throwing around "God Bless America and God Bless YOU" at the end of their commercials advertising their fireworks spectacular. I only ate out in a restaurant a total of three times but one of them was selling little crosses and stitched pillows reminding me that Jesus is Lord. If you want to find the Lord, I'm certain He's in the South. Or you could at least find a replica to purchase!

But all of this made me wonder... WHY go to church? You can preached at endlessly, tithe and order religious ephemera all from the comfort of your air conditioned home!

Patience for Patients

Taking care of my strong and willful mom was an eye opening experience. So many issues of my own inadequacy from the constant criticism are way too near the surface. I couldn't help but think of taking care of my sister just six months before.

No matter what I did for my sis, there was that kind, sweet little voice ALWAYS... "Thank youuuu! Thank YOU!" for everything. She knew she was hard to please but she always said it. I remember trying to move her. I couldn't lift her but I knew she could hold onto my neck. I would tell her we were dancing. "Take a step right, take a step back." She listened and I could maneuver her where I needed her to go, cheek to cheek. She would kiss me and thank me.

I would change her diapers and she would look up at me and apologize over and over. My response was always the same, "Hey, you changed mine! Now it's my turn!"

And while it's natural for my mother to long for her lost child gazing through the perfection colored glasses of loss, I wish, just once, I could feel like the good daughter I know I am. One who is not always wrong in everything she does.


Friday, October 29, 2010

Staycation Travelogue 10/28/10

We hit Laguna Beach for shopping and lunch and a little ocean-side skygazing.

On the way home, we found ourselves not so happily stuck in traffic on the 5. After an hour, we stopped and decided to explore Downtown Disney. Other than a lame design for handicapped parking... why do they always ASSuME that handicapped people are mobile by wheelchairs? In reality, most handicapped just require closer parking. Downtown Disney gets an F on that design... but the rest was SO inspirational. Everywhere you looked was something interesting and my head was flooded with bead ideas!

Every fountain resembled giant flowers. The wrought iron was glorious! But these candied apples really caught my eye!

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Home - but All Is Not Well

I realize I haven't posted since Mabel's birthday! If you read my bead blog, you already know why. In addition to all of that, I threw my back out (putting on pants!) and all those antibiotics are wreaking on my digestive tract and let me just say that flying home with an aching back and constantly needing to find a bathroom is NOT the most fun way to travel!

But, I was so happy to see my girl! And she was so happy to see me. She came racing into the driveway and bowled me over with kisses. And despite me being exhausted, she convinced me a creek trek was in order...which actually made my back feel a tiny bit better.

Now, I have to catch up on orders and taxes but should return in a bit.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

The Still of Christmas Night

I got home from my trip on Christmas night - as Mabel has already shared. After spending some quality "rug time" with my girl, I leashed her up for a neighborhood walk.

It was brisk night and getting kind of late - almost nine - and the neighborhood was unusually quiet. But as we strolled past the houses, inside the warmly lit windows you could see all kinds of holiday happenings:

  • A drowsy little girl sitting in her grandpa's lap, reading a story.
  • Families gathered around the table, laughing.
  • A family playing charades.
  • A group of people outside barbecuing steaks, steam billowing off the hot grill.
  • A couple un-decorating their tree.
  • A man and his children helping his parents load their car for the trip home amongst whispered thank yous, goodbyes and hugs.
  • A group of smokers, standing on their porch, caroling to their non-smoking family on the other side of the window. The non-smokers would carol back louder and then the smokers would answer back, laughing all the time.
Originally, I thought I would be so sad to be home, especially once I learned none of my California adopted family could pick me up at the airport on Christmas afternoon. I was feeling very out of sorts when it took me almost three hours to make the ten minute trip home by shuttle van.

But a little quiet time with my pup and knowing that some families are actually happy at Christmas was a really nice homecoming present.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Sad Girl

I'm not sure who is going to be the sadder girl over the next week and a half...me or my sweetie. I know she's going to miss me and I'm surely going to miss her.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Flu Shots in the Information Age

I admit it. I'm a queasy, uneasy traveler. I slam Airborne and Immunocomp before and after any plane ride. And my impending trip to Baton Rouge, being cooped in a tin can for strangers for hours on end is making me extra nervous with all the Swine* flu and the regular flu being so bad this year. I've had several friends hospitalized with one or the other variety and my little cousins in Denham Springs, LA have the Swine.

I got my flu shot back in September but have been really upset over the lack of Swine shots available here. When you could find them, the lines were 8 hours long! Not with my feet! Plus standing line with that many people is enough make you sick!

Then the other day, I heard on Good Morning America that Google was working with health departments across the country to help people locate whichever type of shot they required. The doctor on the show used California and Arkansas as an example. California communicates well with Google and there are lots of locations and information online. Arkansas does not...

So I tried the link Google.com/flushot and was amazed to fine a Swine flu shot clinic in the park nearby last weekend. I called and yes, it was happening.

I decided to try and find one for my mom in Baton Rouge. I googled her zipcode and there was one going on that day...for another 54 minutes!I got on the office phone and told Mom where to go and used the home phone to find out what info she needed and how much, etc. She needed her doctor's address and I phoned her in the store and she got her shot. Whew!

My experience here in town on Saturday was not so pleasant. I somehow got it in my head it was at the Senior Center. I drove there and parked in front, noticing lots of cars around the park. As I got out of the car, I noticed the line across the park at the rec center... It went down the center of the park and wrapped about 50 feet down the sidewalk toward the post office! NO FREAKING WAY! I left.

After a long coffee with the BFF, I drove back by. The line was maybe 10 feet shorter. So I ran some errands...and it was 30 feet shorter. I came home, worked on the pool (forever out of something since the Station fire!), ate lunch and fell asleep on the sofa. I awoke with a start around 1:20. I sat straight up and yelled at myself, "GO NOW!!!"

The line was maybe 10 feet long and moving fast! I was amazed at the operation the LA County Health Department had put on... people directing traffic throughout the park. Several handing out the forms to fill out. A table of 20 or so that double checked the forms, another table of 20 making sure people understood their forms. Lots of hand sanitizer everywhere. More people directing us to one of 20 nurses stations filled with the Swine injection and nasal spray, band aids, alcohol, cotton balls and sharps containers. Wipe, prick, band aid, done!

My left arm did hurt the rest of the day...never had that reaction before. But it was fine on Sunday.

So, I'm de-swined and ready to travel.

*Note to the Federal Government: If you want to change the name of something...make sure the new name is no longer than the old name! Economy of words, people!!! H1N1 is FOUR times longer than the word swine in conversation.

Friday, May 01, 2009

Gone...

I was robbed 8 days ago. Thieves broke the back mini window in the back of the Jeep and took my purse while Mabel and I were hiking. It took 6 solid hours of phone calls and errands to close bank accounts, credit cards and get my window fixed. I'm still dealing with the aftermath of re-routing direct debit and automatic credit card payments, and waiting for a new driver's license.

Aside from my cheap, Ross Dress for Less purse and the 20 bucks in my wallet, they did get a free tank of gas of my Visa...which Visa will pay for. Funny, but I canceled my Discover Card waiting for the cops because I could remember their phone number - 1-800-Discover. But I didn't know Visa's... I do now: 1-800-Visa-911. (You must know the name of your issuing bank; then this number can refer your to the proper theft / fraud phone numbers.)

But the one thing I mourn the most is my wallet. My big time Hollywood producer wallet. Those stupid-ass thieves certainly have no appreciation for that wallet, Il Bisonte #C237. And I fear I will never be able to afford to own it again.

I have loved and adored this wallet - mine was black - for two decades. This was actually my second one. I carelessly left the first in a McDonald's bathroom in Anaheim a decade ago. Then as now, I pray that whoever took her, loves and adores that wallet the way I did.

I seriously planned a blog post about my Il Bisonte over the winter. That wallet and a coat with an inside pocket are my favorite way of safely moving about large crowded places. I was so excited to have found a ladies winter coat with an inside pocket at Penney's Outlet. This little luxury is normally saved for men...which is why I wear men's coats. And this purple ladies jacket had an inside pocket that fit my Il Bisonte.

It wasn't that it was made from fine Bison leather that grew so soft and supple with age. The Il Bisonte was the elegant and super functional design. It was a must for any international traveler or production person.

I'm going to blame owning this wallet and my need of jackets with inside pockets on Catherine MacDonald. She was our travel coordinator on the movie I worked on in Argentina. A raven haired beauty from Texas who settled in New York, Catherine moved about the world with such ease and confidence. She prepared well for potentially dangerous encounters (purse snatchers were notorious in Buenos Aires) and then she rolled with the punches. I'm certain she taught me about the Il Bisonte.

Later when I found myself in Manhattan wrapping a job, I made my way to the Il Bisonte store and ponied up the $130 for my first one. The wallet is extra wide - not so much an issue with the advent of the Euro. But in my heavy duty travel days, I quickly discovered that not all currency was the same size at the dollar. Many countries had wider money. It would stick out and people could see what I had and the money got torn. Or I folded it up, which made my wallet too fat to close.

I quickly fell in love with this Il Bisonte for other prodution needs. Keeping track of receipts for the company? No problem...lots of nooks and crannies. Needing a safe place for my passport? It fit in the wallet when it was all folded up. And the Il Bisonte has an elastic band that wraps around the wallet when you put too much junk in it...so it holds together no matter what!

Without fail, everyone in production who saw my Il Bisonte, bought one! I remember being at a dinner with two art directors and five or six production people. When it came time to pay, we all had the same wallet! And they blame their love of this wallet on me!

But sadly, I am no longer grossly overpaid for my time and the now $237 price tag is too much for my paltry income. I bought a seven dollar wallet at Ross. And I hate it. And I probably always will.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Dining In Buenos Aires

Note: I wrote this restaurant review for a potential job as a food critic. Since I just wrote about the Mongolian Barbeque the other day (and I'm in a lampworking class all weekend), this post is a bit of a copout but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

After a few meals out in Buenos Aires, it becomes apparent that, succulent Argentine beef aside, all restaurants are the same. I find the food is adequate, even tasty, but it’s mundane and forgettable. From corner café to grand parilla, the menus are as predictable as the sunrise.

In every dining establishment, I find the obligatory steak, fantastic hamburgers, the egg dish, the fish dish and always, the Argentine version of French fries. It is as if by trying to please everyone, they fail to please anyone. Those humdrum pappas fritas are a good example. They are perfectly fried golden potatoes with dressed up with garlic and parsley – it really makes you homesick for just plain old French fries. And while salt is readily available, don’t dare make the mistake of asking for pepper – a mistake I’ve made in far too many restaurants.

No matter what type of establishment I’m in, the scene is always the same: The waiter will stare at me, dumbstruck and then utters in a high pitched voice, “Pimenta?” Wearing disgust on his face, he marches off to the kitchen, informing everyone along the way that some American idiot wants to ruin her food with pimenta. He eventually returns with pepper- the fries are now cold – and gathers the other waiters around to watch how this strange ingredient is used. Pack your own pepper; it’ll save lots of embarrassment.

The other phrase to be aware of is “con jamòn” or with ham. Everything comes with ham. No kidding. Apparently, this is where the ham in hamburger originated. Order a steak, it comes with ham. Melon? Yep. Ham. If you don’t love ham, learn this phrase and utter it every time you order: sin (seen) jamòn (without ham).

While thousands visit Buenos Aires every year and seem perfectly happy to partake of gastronomic predictability, to find an interesting meal – with or without ham- throw away the tour book and talk to some locals. If your Spanish is rusty, try British tourists as they seem to have better guidebooks.

It was a Brit that led me to Brocolino’s, clearly the best Italian restaurant in Argentina – and probably even the world. It’s that good. It is a noisy, family joint down a dark street. It’s easy to hurry past Esmerelda, as it intersects with the busy Florida shopping district. It seems like a good place to get mugged. Yet, there’s always people, huddling in the dark, headed somewhere…Brocolino’s.

It’s a really ugly restaurant. Most Argentine buildings are brown or tan and it’s shocking to walk into the most hideous bright green room off the darkened street. But the waiter’s greet you in Spanish and make you feel like an old friend. If you’re not sure what to order, they just start bringing you food.

The pasta is perfect al dente; the sauce robust with lots of garlic. Angel hair with garlic and oil (Aglio e olio) is a stinking rose lover’s delight. Be prepared to smell garlic coming out of your pores for at least 24 hours. By then, you’ll be craving more.

El Teatro should be on every tourist list – it’s located right next to the world famous Teatro Colòn opera house, a popular destination. Yet the large parilla is filled with animated and loud locals. Ah, but this grill is different. Because of the locality to the opera, El Teatro doesn’t feel like the average barbeque place. The patrons are nicely dressed and the décor is rich with green plants and lots of velvet. I was extra lucky on my visit as I was traveling with well-known actors. We were seated in the lush balcony overlooking the main dining area.

The menu has the usual assortment of grilled meats but there is lighter fare here. The salad is made from variety of greens instead of the usual hunk of iceberg. The house dressing is rich with tarragon. The grilled chicken has been marinated in a salt bath and then buttermilk before grilling. El Teatro also serves a dish that is more common at home barbeques: provoleta. A nice sized chunk of provolone, dipped in oil and herbs, grilled until the inside melts and the outside is crispy, is brought on a steaming plate with a basket of soft bread. I am certain this dish caused me to gain at least ten pounds during my extended stay, and worth every ounce.

For Sunday morning breakfast, try the Florida Café. Omelets abound at every restaurant, but the Florida makes pancakes. While they are not fluffy – more likely close cousins with a crepe –they are a wonderful remedy for the homesick. Having been in B’aires for weeks and missing my Sunday ritual of pancakes, this was a welcome find. Syrup is not to be found but the panqueques are served with a thinned dulce de leche. “Milk jam” is made from sugar and milk, cooked to a milk chocolate brown and appears in almost every sweet Argentinean dish, usually in a thick and chewy mass. At Florida, the thin caramel is a refreshing accompaniment to breakfast fare, served on toast and muffins as well as pancakes.

It is at the Florida where I notice another commonality with all Argentinean restaurants: a waiter will never pour cold milk into coffee. It must be scalding hot before being decanted from three feet above the table into a coffee cup.

In the quest for unusual fare in B’Aires led me to several Chinese restaurants, only to be disappointed with the greasy, over-cooked food. Then we heard of Mongolian Barbeque. The cab dropped us off on a wet winter eve in front of what looked like a house in a non-commercial neighborhood. Our ride was out of sight as our group discovered the door was locked. Realizing we were a good two miles off any major thoroughfare and possible taxi stand, we bundled up for a long walk in the rain. We didn’t make it very far when we heard a woman call to us in Spanish with Chinese accent.

She let us in and explained in English that 5:30 p.m. is very early for dinner in Argentina. She sat us at a fireside table and brought a fine red wine from the San Juan region while we waited for the cooks to finish setting up. There was a cold bar of meat: beef, pork, chicken and shrimp, as well as an assortment of vegetables and sauces. Simply fill a bowl, hand it to the cook and a waiter brings it to the table. The chicken was moist and tender, the vegetables crisp and perfect. By 9 p.m. the tiny restaurant was filled with the laughter of neighborhood locals and our gracious hostess called us a cab. If trying Mongolian Barbeque, plan on dining late and knock on the window if the door is locked.

If you are willing to travel a little for a great meal, Gato–Blanco (White Cat) is a destination dining experience. I wasn’t sure what to expect when a friend suggested we go to a restaurant that required traveling by boat. Located a couple hours from downtown Buenos Aires by both bus and boat, this restaurant, in Tigre, is on an island on the Rio Capitán, one of the many rivers and inlets off the Rio Paraña.

Gato-Blanco reminds me of one of the many restaurants my family used to visit by boat on lazy Sunday afternoons in the Louisiana bayous, band blaring and smells of something good coming from the kitchen. Sure, you could get there by car, but why would you want to?

The trip to Gato-Blanco is the beginning of a fun, relaxing day. The boat hums through the wide river delta and gives an up-close view of how the elite of South America live. I really loved looking at the breathtaking houses with expansive lawns that butt up to the river. Every house has a “boat elevator” that lifts a boat high into the air so that another may dock beneath it.

The restaurant also has a large dock and lawn chairs right on the river. There are interior and exterior dining areas as well as a bar and tea room. The front yard is a large, park-like garden with playground equipment for the kids. And yes, there is a white cat hiding in the foliage.

The food is filling and needed after the boat ride. Grilled shrimp with garlic is a house specialty as is a flat fish served with lemon and champagne. Red meat lovers will go for the sirloin stuffed with mushrooms, ham, cheese, potatoes and cream.

After dining on such rich food, a walk along the riverbank is needed. Or hang near the band; strangers will ask you to dance. By late afternoon, it is time to board the boat back to the bus depot. The chill coming off the water on a June winter night makes it possible to sit in the waning sun while wearing my thick coat. The warm sun, the great meal digesting and the gentle rocking of the boat make it impossible for me to stay awake. A long nap ends a terrific day and I’m ready for the more populated destinations in Buenos Aires.

Brocolino’s

Esmerlda 776

Buenos Aires (Florida District)

Inexpensive

El Teatro

Toscanini 1288

Buenos Aires (Recoleta District)

Moderate

Café Florida

Cordoba 399

Buenos Aires (Florida District)

Inexpensive

Mongolian Barbeque

Avenida Las Heras 3357

Buenos Aires (Palermo District)

Moderate

Gato-Blanco

Río Capitán nº 80 Delta del Paraná CP (1648)
Tigre - Buenos Aires – Argentina

Moderate


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Quick Thinking On My Pedals

I was reading Becky's post today about being propositioned in South Korea and when she got to the last few sentences, she threw in a little comment about a man dropping his pants right in front of her! It reminded me of something that happened in in Argentina. (Thanks for the post idea, Becks!)

I and the American's I worked closely with would spend our one day off, Sunday, exploring. I, unlike the others, never broke my routine. They all would sleep in on Sunday, but that threw my body chemistry way off and made the first few work days afterward difficult. So I would rise, go for a walk along the docks and eat breakfast at the only restaurant I could find with something that resembled American pancakes. When the the rest of the gang was finally awake, we'd brunch somewhere, read newspapers and make a plan for the rest of the day.

We strolled about the city on this particular Sunday, sightseeing and taking pictures until someone remembered hearing something about a Mongolian Barbeque over in Palermo, a neighborhood some distance away.

As all of us were either from New York or L.A., we were perpetually in search of a good meal. It only took a few days to realize that most restaurants in Buenos Aires were all alike: each had a fish dish, an egg dish, a chicken dish, a beef dish and a hamberguesa. We quickly grew bored. We soon learned where to go for more interesting fare both near our office and apartments but Sundays were reserved for finding new and unique meals.

Keep in mind we were all working from 14 - 18 hours a day, six days a week. We were exhausted and all suffering from that malaise that makes nothing really matter too much. If one person had an idea, the rest were likely to follow.

Off we went in taxis to Palermo. Never mind that we had no name of the restaurant; no address. We were a resourceful group managing a crew of a thousand. We could find a restaurant with no name or address in a foreign country. The taxi drivers dropped us off at a park -Parque Tres de Febrero.

This park was like nothing we had seen. We had all been to the incredible Recoleta Park. But this park was wooded and had an amazing lake and big islands. Without so much as a word, we all got out of our taxis and started walking straight for the shore, mesmerized. The park was not busy at all on that late fall afternoon in May. Some of the guys lay down in the sand. Some of the girls took off for a walk along the vast shoreline while others hit the concession stand for a snack. Me? I walked to the water's edge, drawn to the paddle boats.

I've had a fascination with paddle boats since I was child visiting Percy Quinn State Park near my hometown of McComb, Mississippi. My mother would never let us rent a paddle boat. I spent my childhood watching those boats and longing to be on one.

I petitioned all of my friends and no one was game - for good reason: a winter storm was moving in. It was starting to sleet and darkness was setting in.

Finding that restaurant and our exquisite meal are a whole other story. But that park and those boats stayed in my head. It would be weeks before I would return alone on a brisk Sunday afternoon and rent a paddle boat.

I had the best time on that lake which was quite busy and soon longed to explore a quieter shore and study the flora and fauna away from the crowd. I turned down and inlet and soon the busy shoreline disappeared.

I found myself drawn to a duck that was nesting a late fall flock of ducklings. They were curled up next to their mom and she was protecting them from the breeze that was blowing. There were so many trees here, the sun was no longer visible. I paddled so close to the shore, I could have stepped off the boat if I'd had something to tie it with.

I marveled at the coloring of those ducks and how they blended so perfectly with the fallen leaves on that shore. As my eyes scanned that shoreline and the wonderful colors spread on the ground, something caught my eye. Those look like shoes. They are shoes with a man attached!
To my great surprise, that man had his pants down and started pleasuring himself on my shock. Immediately, I realized how close I was to him; that he could step on my boat in an instant! And then, that deep sense self - preservation that many of us possess kicked right in.

I started back pedaling the boat as fast as I could and simultaneously decided if it was my shock he wanted, he would not have it. With my left hand ( I was steering the boat with my right), I pointed at his engorged member and cackled very loud. As I laughed, I screamed, "Moi poquito, moi poquito!" (translation = very small)

He quickly tucked it in his pants and ran off into the woods. I've never wanted to rent another paddle boat!


Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Smells Like...

Why is it that the women who wear the cheapest perfume - the crap that brings on an allergic sneeze fit - seem to wear MORE of it?

I entered our local post office today after one such woman... she was long gone but her stench lingered so strong, my eyes teared up and I could barely speak.

I seem to encounter these women or their left over essence more and more but what can one really do??

Well, I did get to tell one such woman about her odoriferous choice once.

When I was in a wheelchair, I would board airplanes first. I was flying Southwest...no seat assignments... and took a front seat beside the window on the left side of the plane. There's a ledge there on many planes and I could ride with my foot raised and prevent a little swelling.

As the regular passengers started to board a nice, older gentleman inquired about the seats next to me. I told him they were vacant. He motioned to someone I couldn't see and suddenly I found myself seated next to his "twinkie"... a much younger, much too blond woman.

As soon as she sat down, my eyes filled and I started sneezing over and over and over. I finally got out that I was allergic to her perfume and that she needed to move. NOW! She was somewhat embarrassed and leaned closer (!!) to apologize and through my sneezing I managed to snipe, "Have him buy you some good stuff, honey. People aren't allergic to better perfumes!"


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Monday, January 21, 2008

Back in the Nook



My dearest returned home at 8:30 this cold and rainy morning and as I ran about the house, getting things ready for her, it was as though I was preparing for the return of a long, lost lover.

Her meal was prepared, just in need of some warm broth. The bed was made the way she likes, her favorite soft blanket and the heated mattress pad on. Curtains closed. She ate and ran to my bed, greeted me with kisses; her body was eager for my caress.

Where the heck am I going with this??? LOL!


Seriously, the girl did fine on her sleepover. It was me, as predicted, that was a mess. While I did fall asleep a bit earlier than usual, I mostly wrestled with the covers all night long. I gave up at 3 and watched an old movie and GMA (East Coast version) before drifting off around 6:30. At 7:30, my hiking buddy called to check on Mabel. It almost made me cry. I got up and got everything ready... it felt like eternity!

We spent the day sleeping. We stayed in bed til after one. Ate and napped on the sofa and took a very cold hike to the creek. Normally I would feel so guilty about wasting the time but, it feels right today.

And best of all, I now have an option for traveling. Not my ideal, but an option.


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Sunday, January 20, 2008

Sleeping Single in a Queen-Sized Bed

I should call it Wide Awake in a Queen-Size Bed. My girl is at a sleep over. And I'm so stressed and wired, I'm practically chewing a hole in my tongue!

This past week, I realized that there were four business trips I "needed" to take this year. The first, I've already managed to wriggle out of is a trip to the Tucson Bead Show. I had hoped to go there and size up whether or not it would be worth my while to sell beads / jewelry there.

But thinking about leaving made me realize my last trip to Baton Rouge without Mabel was a disaster. She barked all night for several nights in a row, keeping the neighbors up. When her drop-in sitters decided to lock her in at night, she peed on the carpets twice. I need another solution.

Years ago, my best friend's step daughter who was trustworthy and dying for some time away from home, would come over and sleep with Mabel. That was the best. Mabel loved it and so did the girl. The girl moved away four years ago and Mabel has traveled with me since. But that just won't work on a business trip.

So I talked to the teenaged girl that now works for me. She said she would be fine sleeping over if she could bring her little sister. I was hesitant... her sister is tiny. Mabel is not.

Today, while balancing a big bead in the flame, the girl's mother called. Her daughter would not want to sleep at my house (NOT the first time this girl has told me one thing and her mother gets another tale...) but could Mabel come sleep over there?

I felt sheer panic swell inside me. They have another dog. Mabel is a princess and nosy and tall enough to lay her head on a counter. They go to bed early...Mabel settles in just after eleven. And I don't sleep alone anymore.

So I drove her over. Mabel jumped out and ran to my best-friend's door. She was surprised when I drug her next door to my employee's house. They brought out their dog who promptly snarled at Mabel and her hackles went up. We took the dogs for a walk, then into the house and let their dog off leash, then Mabel.

And I snuck out. She's been there three hours. I've only called them once... and my best friend and hiking buddy have gotten two phone calls each.

If this works, it will allow me to go the Bead & Button show in June and the CA Cake Show in July almost worry free.

I just hope I make it through the night.



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Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Ain’t It Good To Be Back Home Again?

I got up and torched today – before unpacking. I was afraid I had forgotten everything! Then, I took Mabel on the longest hike. The creek is flowing and so full. Even the upper creek has water.

Mabel was just stir crazy from only having left the house once for a play date while I was away. We followed the creek upstream and then down, taking the rocky path beside the water instead of the steady inland path.

We went to the waterfall where Mabel ran down some great smell and I sat a spell on one of my favorite boulders and just listened to the water. Since many tiny streams converge at this point, I love to sit and stare at one and try to isolate its sound based on the rhythm of the water falling. It’s a mesmerizing game. And peaceful…

I lingered, pondering how long it had been since I spent any restful, quiet time with my dog. With God. With me.


The Trip

The trip home was fairly nice. There were the usual family squabbles… We all sure know how to push one another’s buttons. It’s really sad that people who love each other can’t really get along for any length of time.

So, while I was overwhelmed with Mama drama, Mabel decided to be a brat. The coons were coming in my yard at night and apparently, Miss Piss barked all night long for two nights before the neighbors weigh-laid the babysitters and gave them an earful.

We ended up locking her in the house at night. The Rhodesian’s mom gets off late and would bring the pups over for a midnight romp and then lock Mabel in my room. The morning crew would let her out around 7:30. That seemed to be working but when I arrived home, I found she had been peeing on my carpets in there.

I tried to show no negativity as I cleaned up the mess but Mabel would not stay in the room with me as I cleaned!

But back to my visit home…. There was something fun to do every day. A craft fair at Oak Alley Plantation (with more good food than my brain could process!) and another at the casino. I got to visit with one of my favorite cousins and her three-year-old twins.
My sister turned 65 while I was there and she and I had a great dinner, just the two of us (Mom got side-tracked at the casino.) and then I spent the night with her.

I also got to meet my personal blogger hero, Velvet. I know I quote her here often but she is such an inspirational person to me. I wish I could write like that! And she’s just as wonderful and eloquent in person.

Boo

Trick-or-Treating with my cousins in Watson was a highlight. I’ve never seen anything like it. People would pull a hay trailer with a four wheeler. The trailers were all decorated with lights and pumpkins and hay. They would pile on the kids and dogs and make the rounds… and this is not a rural neighborhood!

The streets were packed with people. And everyone giving away candy was usually sitting at a decorated table in their front yard. Trick or Treat is only two hours long there but people were telling us they had bought $350 worth of candy and were running out!

I got to spend several blocks of time with my cousin and his kids. One of the best was the night before Halloween. There is an all you can eat pizza buffet in Denham Springs we all love. The food is wonderful and a steal at those prices but… There is one of those game rooms for kids attached. My sister had handed me a $10 for the kids to go play and I thought it would be strange to hand two kids one ten. So I pulled out another $10. That has to be the best ten bucks I spent all week! My little cousin just adores the Sponge Bob game there. He’s quite good at stopping the wheel on 125 points… the max.

He recruited me to be his assistant. “When I hold my hand out, you put another token in it, Aunt Holly, OK?”

Every time he hit 125, he would throw his hands in the air and scream “JACKPOT!!!!” Which I had to do as well…

And when he didn’t hit a high score, we would swing our arms and scream, “DOH.” Everyone was staring! We didn’t care!

The Bad News…

I did return home to some bad news. My friend Kat’s son was in a horrible brawl at USC’s homecoming Saturday. He never saw the attack coming. They just jumped him, took him to the ground and stomped and kicked the crap out of the boy.

This boy – (it’s so funny, but he was on my mind all day Sunday. I kept thinking of the day he was born and getting to hold him – something his mom allowed very few to do.) – is one of the most peace-loving people I know. He is kind and gentle despite being 6’6”. And while he does have a black belt in judo… he was never one of those boys that loved to fight. He deplores it.

His mom had spent the day at the huge apartment he rents (7 roommates) near USC and had a wonderful day. The boys got ready to go to the game and she drove the 20 minutes home. The phone was ringing when she arrived. Her boy was in the hospital.

He apparently fought the firemen, nurses and doctors helping him… thinking he was still being attacked. And while unconscious, he kept screaming, “Get off me!” and “HELP! Somebody, help me!”

But there is good news. This boy who started accumulating concussions before the age of two managed to get through this beating without one! Lots of bruises to his rib cage and chest and his face is a mess but no concussion. He does have severe damage to his eye and we are waiting to hear what’s next… He needs surgery; it’s just a question of when.

And while his parents had the most acrimonious, drawn-out, nasty divorces I’ve ever been a witness to, Kat, her ex and his girlfriend have been an amazing team. The girlfriend is a nurse at Cedars and has put some of the best eye doctors on the case. Kat stays with her boy dealing with day to day medical and keeping ice on him to help with the swelling. The ex is all over the legal end. No two ways about it – we all want somebody to pay for this!

I’m just so sad that this could happen to such a gentle 19-year-old. I hate to see someone so young become afraid of the world.

Wrapping it up…

So I have a lot of blogs to catch up on and a ton of stuff in the shop to get done. Not to mention, I sold a bunch beads from wearing my own stuff around Baton Rouge and got home to orders for those. My best friend’s mom is in from Hungary and I know I’ll need to spend some time with Kat and her boy but hopefully, I’ll get back into t he swing of things soon.

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Monday, April 02, 2007

The Last Sunset - 12-31-06 - Baton Rouge

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I had such a rough trip home in December that I haven't really wanted to blog about it... but I saw some really incredible things and took some wonderful pictures.

On New Year's Eve, my mother is usually the v.i.p. guest at one or both of the casinos in Baton Rouge. I could care less about the party but the food rocks! So we had a really nice dinner together and it was the highlight of a very difficult time for both of us.

These pictures were taken through a glass window at the Rouge (both casinos have changed names numerous times but for me, they will always be their original names: The Belle of Baton Rouge and Casino Rouge.). I took the pictures throughout our dinner of boiled shrimp, king crab and the MOST amazing crab claw salad (crab claws marinated in Italian dressing).

Both Casinos sit on the always fascinating Mississippi River.





After dinner, Mom hit the casino and I went to a party in Walker that was much more my speed. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

And... Happy (very belated!) New Year.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Revelation

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I found myself a little angry with God this morning. I had one of those rare moments of clarity about my life and was suddenly so pissed this info comes about 20 years too late.

This week is an anniversary of sorts for me. 20 years ago today, I was waking up in the Dallas home of my then boyfriend's mother. I had driven in the day before, had a lovely traditional New Year's Dinner - his mom made sure I found the lucky penny in the cornbread - and hit the town with the man that has become known to my circle of friends as the Jackass.

We were up very early the next day...he was driving me to California. This task wasn't originally meant to be his. It was to be my mother's. But 1985 was yet another dreadful Christmas. It was the last time my mother ever struck me. And in addition to her being so difficult to be around, Christmas was topped off with a family friend getting stabbed to death and my cousin's last attempt at suicide (she lived).

Mother used these events to back out of moving me to California. I really think she believed I would not go if she didn't take me. But she underestimated me. When I suggested the Jackass (she adored him; our dog didn't.... hmmmm), her response was to wonder what the neighbors would think of my traveling across the country and sharing a room with him. I still remember the astonished look on her face when I asked, "How will they know if you don't tell them?"

So 20 years ago today, the Jackass and I set out for Cali. I wanted to be a producer or so I thought back then. It only took me 15 or so years to realize that someone doesn't move that far from home to chase something. No, you move vast distances when you are running from something.

We had a blast driving here. He was the driver, I was the DJ. The car was so loaded down, I couldn't get out without placing a few cases and boxes on the ground beside the passenger door.

I was snoozing as we approached California. He tapped my arm and asked, "You were born in 64 right??"

"Yep."

"Find a 64 coin in your purse. Hurry!"

I dug around a bit and announced, "The best I can do is a 69 penny."

"O.K....Let me think... that's 5 years. O.K. add a nickel."

"Got it."

Silence.

"Can I ask why I sitting here with six cents in my hand?"

"Just wait."

Moments later, he was pulling the car off to the edge of the highway. We were right in front of the California State Line sign.

"Get out!"

"Wha?"

"GET OUT! Come on, hurry. It's cold." He dashed out of the car. I followed.

We jumped the barricade and ran west a few feet. He grabbed my shoulder to keep me from running into California. I straightened up and tried to see whatever it was he was so intent on showing me. It was cold and windy and I really had no clue what we were doing on the side of that highway.

He placed his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him.

"Look at that."

I looked at him questioning his sanity.

"That is California. Everything you've ever dreamed of is going to happen to you there. Everything you ever wanted to be, you will be there. You are home."

I had a huge lump in my throat. He had managed to address all my fears. Would I make it or would I tuck my tail between my legs and head back home? Would I even find a job? Could I just stay there long enough to not embarrass myself?

"Now, lean over and make a wish and place your coins over there."

I did as I was told, dropping my coins in the California sand.

"Now, take something for a memory."

I took a pretty rock. Still have it somewhere.

"Now that you're home, you drive. Let's get out of here. It's COLD!"

I raced back to the car to get out of the wind. As I was jumping the barricade, I realized he wasn't with me. He appeared to be digging in the dirt.

"What are you doing? I yelled.

"Covering up your money."

"Huh??"

"You never know when you'll be passing back by and need six cents!"

As I was thinking of this journey and what this man has been through the years in my life, I realized that his driving me here was truly the nicest thing he ever did for me. And I was suddenly dumbstruck with the revelation that this trip, this kindness was his ONLY job in my life.

Couldn't I have gotten this knowledge many, many years ago???

He wasn't the man I was "supposed" to marry. He certainly wasn't worth all the grief and anguish he put me through. He wasn't worthy of my faith or my love. He was only supposed to get me here. And that's just fine. He took me home and now, twenty years later, I finally realize what he was trying to tell me. This is my home. And home feels so good.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Hypnotizing the Dog

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Just how do you hypontize a dog??? I am seriously getting worried about Miss Mabel and the crate.

None of my dogs have ever liked being locked up and all of my girls have had a history with the doggie criminal justice system. Poor Maggie was in doggie jail for a bit and then in rescue for over a year because the rescue lady wouldn't give her to just anybody because she liked her.

When I brought Maggie home, the first time I left her alone, I parked around the corner and ran back home. Maggie was beating her head against the gate to try and break it. I scared her and it stopped. I learned that scaring the crap out of her was a great way to to train her instantly.

Mabel is a little better at being shut up than Mags was. My guest bathroom has the scars to prove that. We had lived in this house about a month when I was headed out to dinner with the host of the t.v. show I was working on and made the mistake of using the guest bathroom on the way out. Maggie had never given the room much attention...it's small and narrow. The dogs always seem to know they have my undivided attention when I'm sitting down in bathroom and take that opportunity for a little lovin'. So I petted her and left for dinner.

I was stunned when she didn't greet me in the living room. I noticed the door on the way to my bedroom. That door isn't level but it was never shut all the way. I threw the door open and found a very traumatized Maggie... and a destroyed bathroom. Blinds shredded, wall paper peeling, custom paint job scratched to bits. The door has a "kick stand" now. (And, can I say that in six years of visitors to this house, when I explain what the door blocker is for, only ONE human being has had the courtesy to put it back in place after using the restroom!)

Between hating to be locked up and having a tummy that didn't digest properly, Maggie May was not the best traveller. The first time I took her to Baton Rouge, the nurse told me, "Give her one ACE (knock out pill) when you get up. If she's not woozy when you leave for the airport, give her another. If she's not woozy at the airport, give her another." So I did...three pills.

Cut to 7 hours later in Baton Rouge. I get Mags out of the crate and she races out of the airport, me in tow. Runs around the grassy area that was there at that time, sees my family, jumps in the car, doesn't sit down all the way to Mom's, checks out the yard, chases squirrels. Finally everyone leaves and it's Mom and I talking. Maggie walks into the foyer to peer out the front door, turns to come into the den and...SPLAT. All four legs in four directions and she's unconscious! She slept there for nine hours! My mother was screaming the whole time, "Your gonna kill my baby with those drugs!"

Mags never travelled on drugs again. But she did travel.

The time I remember the most was a Christmas when Maggie did not want to get in the crate. It is this event that I think is freaking me out about Mabel and the crate this year.

We were in LAX and it wasn't terribly crowded. We had our tickets and the baggage guy had come for Mags. It was time to get in the kennel. And Maggie wasn't going to do that.

She took her powerful head and swung at the crate. She managed to knock the thing 20 feet away! I marched with her in tow over to the crate and drug both back to the ticket counter, feeling every eye in the place on me.

I tried to get her in again and again, she put on the brakes. I whipped her body around so I could look her in the eyes.

"Look, here's the deal. Six hours in the crate and two weeks at Granny's all-you-can-eat buffet or two weeks in doggie jail. Your choice Tuts."

She hung her head, walked right in and the ticket counter erupted in applause!

I don't think Miss Mabel will be as easy. I've been hiding treats in there. She leaves them alone. Which reminds me, both Maggie and Mabel have a very subtle way of letting me know they don't like this.

I always attach a Ziploc bag to the top of the crate with Velcro. Inside is really bad poetry containing the name of the dog and any instructions for the ground crew and a few cookies for them to give the girl. When we are all set at the ticket counter, I will give the pup one of the cookies and I always pick the most unusual one... say if there is one red cookie, that's the one I give her.

Inevitably, when I get to Baton Rouge, that is the ONLY uneaten cookie. Both Mags and Mabel traditionally eat that cookie after breakfast on the the second day at Granny's! I think they're trying to tell me something.

So, I'm trying visualization. While lying next to Mabel, I picture my mom at the kitchen table, Mabel under her arm and eating off her fork. Mabel running around with her cousin Bailey, the corgi. Mabel playing with my little cousins. Mabel chasing squirrels in Granny's big back yard. Mabel curled up in the dog bed by the ever-burning fireplace. Mabel loving Granny's extra large bedroom where she has about 15 feet to get a running start to jump on the bed. Mabel opening all the Christmas gifts her Auntie gets her.

I don't think she's buying it, but I hope, I hope. Seven days til lift off... wish me luck!