Travels with The Rayman

When last I checked in, we were in Mt. Shasta.  Oh, so much has happened.

Let me count the ways.  We left Mt. Shasta and headed north on a fabulous fall day.  Just a few hours north, and we arrived at Running Y Resort.  Here’s my favorite picture of the trip so far.  I snapped this after our round of golf.

 

Running Y Ranch is a golf resort right outside Klamath Falls.  We had an 11:00 a.m starting time.  Perfect.  The course was in great shape and so were we.  Both played exceptionally well for our skill set.  Our cart ran out of charge so we called the pro shop and they zipped right out with another.  While riding the course we saw all kinds of birds and fowl.  Geese, ducks, hawks.  Many, many hawks.  On the back nine it got windy and cold.  We each had a Snickers and coffee for lunch at the turn.  Hey, we are on vacation.  Then we repaired to our room, fetched Beau and drove into Klamath Falls for earring shopping.

Klamath Falls isn’t much.  Their idea of a department store is Wal-Mart.  And I don’t shop at Wal-Mart.  However, we found a darling shop and scored some Brighton earrings.  NO SALES TAX here.  Should have held out for diamond studs.  Then we galloped back the Ranch, got cleaned up and went to the dining room for dinner.  One of things that we noticed is how many federal parks there are and all of them were closed.  Such a shame.  Crater Lake was closed.  The town nearby had virtually no visitors because of this.  There are federal forestry stations.  Federal parks.  Federal forests.  We are so lucky to have had Teddy Roosevelt because he was the President that used the powers that he had to get all that land set aside for that generations to come would be able to visit and enjoy nature’s beauty.  Did you know that when he was President, he camped in the open under a Sequoia tree with John Muir in Yosemite?  And he stood up all his patrons whom had gathered at the Lodge in Yosemite so that he might have private time with Mr. Muir?  A fascinating President.  He is one of my heros.  To read more see     http://www.pbs.org/nationalparks/people/historical/roosevelt/

But I digress.

Yesterday, we awoke to a bone chilling wind so we ate at the hotel and while waiting for our breakfast, the fire alarm went on.  And it kept going.  Rayman ran to the room to see how the Beau was handling the ridiculously loud noise.  No problem.  In the meantime, the siren stopped as soon as all guests were thoroughly awake.  I met a couple from Medford that had lived in Laramie and Durango and all kinds of interesting places.  They were archeologists.  She was an archeologist/poet.  A fascinating conversation ensued and twice the server was waved away because they had not yet settled on their order.  Fun times.  Oh, and Rayman’s ears kept ringing.  Drats.

We were glad to race toward Bend once we checked out.  There we went into a Patagonia store and while the Rayman was trying on a shirt, he broke his delicate glasses.  OMG.  So, we went down a few blocks and found a place called Eyes on Wall Street, an optician shop.  They did not have a replacement part but they were very nice.  Before departing Bend, we decided to have a cup of coffee to warm up and found a place that had a restroom that was not a Starbucks.  Rayman inquired within if dogs were allowed.  No.  Afraid not.  However, they suggested we open the fence and go to the backyard.  Check this out.  Didn’t even suspect something like this.  OMG.  We sat in the chairs on the grass and enjoyed our lattes.  And Beau had a ball.

 

Then we were off in search of ice cream in Sisters, OR.  On the way, I snapped these pictures.  Quite beautiful, this state.  Found a store, got our ice cream and headed west over the mountain and down to Corvallis.  However, this is a totally inadequate description of the drive.  The drive was a two lane highway that was tree-lined all the way.  When the trees broke, their were mountain vistas.  Wowie zowie.  Every turn in the road exposed more beautiful scenery until I had to ask the Rayman to pull over.  Time for a few photos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we got down off the mountain, we drove by Green Peter Dam.  I kid you not.  The Dam provided a lake and the lake had a rest stop.  We stopped.  Here’s a pic.

 

This was near Sweet Home, OR where there I stopped a sign that announced a covered bridge.  I found the bridge and it wasn’t much.  Then we proceeded to Corvallis where we arrived before dark.  Forgot to eat dinner and by the time Ryan showed up, it was too late to eat.  How did that happen?  Don’t know so we had red wine and chocolate and almonds instead.

Visited with Ryan until the lids got heavy and bid our adieus.

This a.m. we met for breakfast and discussed world affairs.  Plenty to discuss.  Then we found an eyewear store that could fix his glasses, met up with Ryan for a walk with him and his doggie, Lucy, and Beau.  Now the guys are golfing.  I’m staying in to rest and read because I just want to do that and it gives them a little time by themselves which is something I have historically done.  A nice touch, I think.

We are here for three nights.  Then it’s on to Bandon!!  Our anniversary is tomorrow and Ryan has the day off so we plan to go wine tasting, eat at a tapas restaurant and generally have a great time.  May see the movie, Gravity.  I’ve volunteered to the be the designated driver.  Our anniversary gift to ourselves is the golf a Bandon on Monday and Tuesday.  Just so fabulous to get to see the kid too!!

 

 

Okay, people, I’m going to give you my version of events today.

 

 

As a dog, I am quite privileged.  My masters, Rayman and Traveling Princess, decided to bring me along on their 22nd anniversary trip to Oregon.  Bowser wowser!!  The morning was frantic.  Packing clothes, taking the car to the garage for something called a master break cylinder.  Boy, I was relieved, when I found out it involved the car and not me.  More packing ensued.  Traveling Princess aka mom, took me and our fish, Beethoven, to Uncle Ralph’s house.  It was very exciting because a cat named Caesar was there.  I tried to be friendly but Caesar was a bit aloof.  And Uncle Ralph wanted me to sit a lot.  I wanted to play with Caesar.  Oh, well.  When we returned, mom and dad (Rayman) threw things into the car and off we went.  We got lost trying to find a Dr.’s office.  Mom got directions on the phone and they were wrong.  A call was placed and directions received.  When they pulled up to the office, mom dropped her driver’s license and healthcare card between the seat and the console and couldn’t get it out so she left it with to do.  Then mom went inside and was gone for the longest time.  Dad found the license and card, took it in to the office then fed me, watered me and gave me a walk.  What a nice dad I have.  When she returned she was in a very good mood and off we went again.  She reported to dad that the Dr. thinks she needs to up her salt intake and she needs to get an EEG to verify that her brain is functioning properly which he expects the test to reveal.  Yippee.  She actually got to see the scan of her brain and was really excited that it was indeed there in her head.  And the Dr. assured her that lapses of memory when busy or flustered are fairly normal for a woman her age.

 

We stopped in the InNOut Burger in Atascadero and I got to sniff a lot of really interesting things as they ate outside and let me be with them.  Then it was off again in the car for hours.  We stopped at a gas station but I was not allowed out.  What’s with them already?  Don’t they know I need to stretch and walk too?  They then hightailed it out of the station in King City and the next thing you know, we were stopping in Gilroy (I had some quality sleeping while traveling) and they let me out to walk, stretch, drink water and lift my leg, so to speak.  Bow wow!!

Off again we went.  Mom drove us to Vacaville and we checked into a Hampton Inn where I was greeted with great enthusiasm by the night crew.  And actually, two people at the InNOut place stopped to admire me.  I’m very special and many people take note.  And I do work hard to be special because I’m given treats when I do what they order me to do.  Sit, down, release, stay, heel.  These are many of the commands they utter and when I do them, I’m rewarded.  Pretty cool.

You probably wonder what it is like traveling with these two.  Well, they talk a lot.  To each other.  Every once in a while they say hi to me but mostly they talk to each other.   Mom told dad all about the head Dr.  He was really tall and slender and had enormous feet, a substantial neck (vertically speaking).  His fingers were very long too.   She told him she was very pleased to meet him and he said it was good to have an appointment where good news was evident.  But I digress.

They talked about Obamacare.  They talked about the light traffic at night.  They talked about the planned golf on the trip.  Mom made a hotel reservation for tonight.  That took a long time.  As a dog, I’m not very impressed.  Now if they talked about cats, dogs, dog food, cats, food…well, I’m all over it.  Much of their conversation was concerning Uncle Ralph’s well being and current news events.  They also looked back and remembered when they met, where they went, what they did.  Mushy but sweet.  Apparently.

So, here I am.  At the Inn, stretched across the bed, luxurating in grand style.  And so happy to be included in the latest adventure.  When mom and dad arrived, they poured some red wine and drank it while eating dark chocolate.  Mom spilled wine on her nightie…and then spent time trying to get the wine out.  After that, well, that’s when they looked at the route tomorrow and figured we’d only be on the road about 4 hours.  Bow wow.  That is great news.  We are heading out in the morning for Mt. Shasta and they have their restaurant for dinner picked out if it is OPEN on Tuesday.  And we’re staying in a really cool place there.  Bow wow.

http://book.bestwestern.com/bestwestern/US/CA/Mount-Shasta-hotels/BEST-WESTERN-PLUS-Tree-House/Hotel-Overview.do?propertyCode=05243

 

 

 

 

 

Today began our annual “Boulder Babes” reunion.  We are a group of 8 women that spend the best part of a week together sans husbands/men.  And we all golf.  And we are of a certain age.  And we know how to have a good time.

So…after reuniting at the rental that sits on the beach in Aptos, we walked to the restaurant down the street for dinner.  Literally we are on the beach.  There is a patio, a “fence” of big rocks and then the sand.  Pretty cool.

But I digress.

We arrived and the restaurant did not have the reservation.  Upon further inspection, they had our party of 8 down for Monday nite.  Only problem is…it was Sunday.  No problemo.  The restaurant was mostly empty and they made accommodations.  Meanwhile, we bellied up to the bar and ordered drinks and wine.  Then we were seated and immediately a glass of wine was overturned…and much of it landed on my brand new pants and on the chair of Carolyn, who was sitting to my left.  After much ado, the table was swabbed and wine re-poured and we proceeded to ordering dinner.

After dinner the fun began in ernest.  The bill was presented.  We sounded like a bunch of wet hens.  Was the bill right?  Was the tip included?  Why was it $53/person?  Bantering and quibbling ensued.

Now all this was complicated because the restaurant was so dark, who could see?  We were trying to see the bill, check it correctness, pay it.  Linda was the accountant for the evening.  She collected money from 5 of us and credit cards from 3 of us and off she went to the front desk to pay the bill.  Then the server, Marin, brought the infamous black bill holder to the table.  When we three credit card people inspected the cheques, we discovered that we were each charged $121.  WHAT?  Better yet, WHAT THE HECK?  About this time the conversation went something like this.

Donna, “I can’t see the bill.  It’s too dark in here.”

Dianna, “I can’t see it either.  Wait, I have the wrong credit card because the last four digits don’t match.”

Sue, “I can’t see it but it is way too much.  $121.

Donna and Dianna, “What?  $121.”

Donna, “This is wrong.  I can’t see.”

Dianna, “It is way to dark in here.  But the bill is wrong.  Where is Linda?”

Sue, “Where is Linda?  This is wrong.  The three of us are paying for everything?”

Donna, “Someone needs to get us a light.”

Sue, “This isn’t right.  Why are we paying for everything.”

Editorial remark:  Much wine and drinks had been consumed.  5 pinots, 2 bottles of chardonnay, a separate glass of chardonnay and that does not even include the two gray gooses, a vodka martini, and a glass of pinot ordered at the bar.

So back to the action.

Sue, Dianna, Donna in unison and quite possibly too loudly, “Where is Linda?”

Kris, “I talked with the manager.  She will be here in a minute.”

Manager, “May I help you?”

Kris, Cathy, Carolyn, Dianna, Donna, Sue, Judy (actually everyone but Linda) chime in with their own version of events…simultaneously.   That poor manager.  She was flummoxed.

Finally, I offered my flashlight app to Donna who could then see the bill.  Then Linda returned with all the cash in hand.  What?  The manager ran away saying she would take care of everything.  Linda tried to explain herself.  We were, at this point, fairly bewildered.  Kris left to smoke.

OMG.

The manager returned.  The credit card bills were $53 each, the correct amount.  The iphone was passed so that the blind could see where to sign.  Linda had all the cash in her hand which she handed to the server along with the credit card bills signed.  And about that time Carolyn and Cathy decided that we were not that far away from needing professional assistance, a helper.  A younger person that could handle things.  A handler.

We were a scream.  We were the loudest biggest table in the joint.  We were also the most confused and bewildered.  It was a blast.  We had a great time being the Boulder Babes.  Ain’t life great?

One final point.  I tried to get the Babes together to read this to them and ask for input, but it is like herding cats.  So, I post it as I remember it.

 

A few weeks ago, I experienced what few people on the face of the earth get to experience and that experience was an experience I shall never forget.  Okay.  Well, I exaggerate because I just googled the stats and there chance of doing what I did is only 1 in 33,000. So, my accomplishment was not as noteworthy as I thought.

But, that’s okay.  Let me digress further.

So, we were playing golf at the Dragon course in Clio, CA.  The Dragon at Nakoma Resort up in the mountains.  The Sierras.  Beautiful place.  The course was as tough as nails.  And I was struggling.  But not as much as my friend Judy.  She was having all the luck.  And I was very jealous because my luck was not good that day.  Golf is a funny game and luck does play a part in it.  Sometimes you can have a good hit and end up with a disastrous lie.  Other times, you can skull the ball and end up smelling like a rose and there does not seem to be any rhyme nor reason to it.  This can lead to frustration.

So this is how my day went.  My luck was bad.  My shot making was questionable.  So, on one of the first holes, I hit a good drive (meaning I made good contact with the ball) a bit to right of the intended target.  So when we drove up to take a look, this is what I discovered.  You may need to scroll to view the entire picture.  If so, do so.  Exhibit number one.

 

 

I mean, really , people.  What are the chances of my ball going through all that junk and coming to rest in the middle of those two trees?  I don’t think I could even place it there and have it stay.  What the heck?  Okay, so the shot was not all that great.  I admit it.  Now, I’m pretty sure that there is no way I can hit my ball out of the middle of those two trees.  But on further inspection, look at all that grass and stuff that the ball had to go through, presumably, to end up where it ended up.  Holy cow.  That is bad luck.  Very bad luck.

So, what happened?  I took an unplayable lie and my penalty and proceded to hit a really good shot through the trees (not those trees) and the ball came to rest on the edge of a sand bunker in front of the green.  Great.  But wait.  I had to stand on the edge of the bunker, teetering, and managed to hit the ball into the bunker.  From there I hit out of the bunker across the green and this left me with a dangerous downhill lie to putt over a juiced up green.  Well, I managed to screw that up to a farthy well.  Ended up with a 7 or an 8 on a par 4.  Now admittedly, my score was a reflection of my poor skill but it also reflected a penalty stroke for a very unlucky lie and I think I got flustered and the rest is history.

Here is how I could have handled it.  Click to view.  Or paste it into your web browser.

pro-golfer-pulls-off-unbelievable-swing-climbs-a-tree-and-shoots-a-perfect-backwards-one-handed-shot-into-the-fairwayded-shot-into-the-fairway/

Meanwhile, Judy continued with her luck bouncing away from danger at every turn.  So, when we approached the 8th tee box, I was a bit down on my luck and licking my wounds.  Kris teed off.  Great shot onto the green.  Judy teed off.  Great shot on to the green.  The other Judy (let’s call her lucky Judy) teed off. It flirted with the sand but bounced left and ended up on the green.   I approached the tee box and said, “Well, it looks like all the luck has been used up” or something to that effect.  The other women were very encouraging saying things like, “Oh, you can do it.”

So, I teed off.  The ball missed the trap on the right and rolled up on the green and DISAPPEARRED INTO THE HOLE.  OMG.  I couldn’t believe it and no one really said they saw it go in because the flagstick was on on the downside of the green.  And I wasn’t sure but it sure looked like it.  So we all got in our carts and lucky Judy ran to the hole and screamed, “IT’S IN THE HOLE.”  We all jumped up and down screaming.  What a blast.  What a hoot.  Here’s some pictures we snapped.  Exhibits two and three.

 

And that is how I got my second hole in one.  With my good friends on a devil of a course, perhaps slightly hung over, with a tooth extraction that was hurting, down in the mud because of my bad luck.  And the ZAP.  Just like that.  A golfing miracle!!!

Too much fun.

That night, I bought a round of drinks for the whole group (12 total) and we all celebrated my luck.  What a hoot.

Below are the 3 witnesses to this happening.

This all started when I played golf in Salinas two weeks ago at the Ladies Invitational.  My friend, Donna, who is a member at the country club recruited her friend, Peggy, to be a part of our “team”.  And this story was fueled by discovering that Peggy’s husband was a duck hunter.  Well, that was interesting to me because I have a friend, Warren, who is also a duck hunter. I think duck hunters are a rare breed of person, mostly men, I guess.  And the rarified duck hunter is usually involved in a duck club.  A duck club is a piece of land that is located in a swampy area (my impression is hard at work here) where grown men have taken their resources and built duck blinds (this is complete conjecture at this point) so they can hide from the unsuspecting fowl that fly over the blinds.  Now, people.  Think about this.  It is cold and damp and wet and very early in the morning and these grown men don their duck hunting ensemble to trudge out to the duck blinds and sit in hiding until until that poor duck flies his way and then I think he jumps up, aims his gun and shoots the living daylights out of the poor duck.  Then a well trained dog leaps from the blind (they all seem to have dogs that have been sent to dog duck training classes, universities, I’m told, so that they can become proficient in, well, locating the dead duck and bringing it back to the blind) and fetches the duck.  One presumes that after all the ammo is gone or the ducks have “ducked and covered”, these grown men trudge back to the house.  Oh, did I mention the house?  Some of the houses at these duck clubs are quite elaborate with scores of bedrooms and bathrooms and a big kitchen.  Perhaps they have a bar too as many stories seem to be involve eating copious amounts of food (probably never the ducks)  and drinking copious amounts of alcohol.  I imagine spitoons, don’t you?  Really, people, these places are big man caves where they can go and be men.  No girlie girlie stuff going on at these places.  In fact, I don’t think any of these clubs have ever had a woman visit.  That means that duck clubs are a lot like mosques where women may not enter either.  Just saying.  But it is just as well because as a woman I can think I can vouch for most of us and announce that I do not want to go to a duck club, I don’t want to see the big man cave and I certainly have no interest in eating wild duck.  And as for bowing to Mecca on a carpet…that doesn’t float my boat either.

But I digress.

So, Peggy is married to Bob (I learn on the 6th green of the tourney).   Well, I ask, does Bob know Warren because he is a duck hunter too?  And this is where the story starts to get interesting.  Why, yes he does.  It turns out Bob and Warren went to the same high school in San Jose and graduated the same year and haven’t seen each other since then.  OMG.  What a small world.  But wait.  There is more.  Bob and Peggy have a house in the mountains and these are the same mountains that I and my crazy golfing friends are going to the next week.  What are the chances?  Well, it turns out that Bob and Peggy have a house that just happens to located directly across the fairway from the condos were are renting next week for our week long golfing extravaganza and Bob and Peggy will be there at the same time we will be there.  Well.  What can you say?  The facts in the case are dizzying.

 

But let me back up here and say that we have been going on golfing vacations with this group of people for years and years.  Once a year we veer off our busy lives and save time to get together for a week of golfing fun.  It hasn’t always been easy.  Problems have arisen.  But, we have managed to pull this grand fete off for a very long time.  And that is why I am sitting here blogging because we pulled in yesterday afternoon and the partying commenced with raucous charm.  We all come from various walks of life but golf is the glue that binds here.  We all love the silly game and we have great fun around it.  An example of this is last night.  On the first night of each trip there are a few things that take place.  Always.  1.  We have a meeting and golf games are announced.  This year the theme is Big Break Plumas.  We each pony up $25/person for the games.  2.  We drink too much.  3.  We eat too much.  These are rules that never vary.

So it was last night with the exception that Bob and Peggy joined the group for cocktails.  And that’s when we learned that Bob was President of the senior class in high school.  And we discovered this when we all looked at the high school annual that Bob brought along.  And that is when we also discovered that Warren was a buff swimmer because he was pictured in his speedo in the same album.  What a hoot.  They had quite a reunion and we enjoyed every minute of it.  And we also met Bob’s two labs.  Too much fun.

 

“Speedo” cooks the meat and it’s not duck.

Do you ever feel yourself aging?

What I ask is relevant. Doesn’t getting up out of your easy chair and trotting to the bathroom feel a bit different than it did 5 years ago? 10 years ago? 15 years ago? I think those kinds of questions are relevant at every age, but, as we age these feelings take on added weight because time is getting shorter at a more rapid rate than if you are 20 years old, let’s say. I think we can all agree with that.

The back stoops a bit more, the feet feel a little flatter. Getting up fast might cause dizziness and a fall. The eyes take longer to adjust. Hearing is questionable. “I’m going to the room”, he says. She asks, “Why are you going to get the broom?”.

However, along with the changes that time brings on…isn’t it a hoot? When you ask a stupid question at the Apple Store, you receive one of two looks back your way. 1. Oh, isn’t she sweet?. Or you see 2. the OMG….If I live that long, just shoot me, look. It really is a stitch because 1. you don’t care what the snotty kid thinks 2. You are honestly so confused you feel foolish and silly but what the heck. At least your are trying to keep up with everything, keep in the know, keep modern. Another example, you check yourself out at the grocery store and you hit the wrong key and the whole checkout process starts over. Meanwhile, the self check out line has doubled in length.

Then you do silly things that defy explanation. Forgetting where you park. Losing your keys everyday and every way. Standing in the pantry staring, just staring. Missing that appointment…how many times can I blame my iPhone calendar? and still be believable?

Traveling also makes you feel your aging. Like buying a ticket to the Paris Metro, submerging to the wrong platform, wandering a round in a daze trying to figure it out, and then emerging from the earth only to leave the Metro with the understanding that you just paid 10 pounds to go absolutely no where. Or you take the train the wrong direction. Or you hear your name over the loudspeaker, “Jane Doe please report to the Information Counter. We have your ticket.”…when all along you thought your ticket was in your pocket/purse.

Of course, at the opposite end of that story, you ARE older and you can talk to people in a normal manner to get information. You aren’t affected by hormones and feelings of insecurities so your conversations usually are very successful. This is quite good when, say, negotiating your way out of situations. Getting into something is much easier than getting out of something because to get into something, you must pay. Getting out of something, you expect the other party to pay you. So, talking to people is a very important skill. And it does seem to improve with age.

But, I digress. Lost my way, perhaps. Who cares?

The point is…what was the point? Oh, I don’t know. I just got up to go to the bathroom and felt myself aging and thought I would reflect on it for the fun of it. Anyway, 999 channels and nothing is on. Realtime just finished. Nothing else worth watching is coming on. So, blogging is a good activity.

Today, I tried to fix a problem. And it is complicated. We wanted to get xm-sirius radio in the Lexus. Lexus wanted an arm and a leg. So we were told about a unit we could buy after-market. On the internet. A company in Texas. What could possibly go wrong? We approached a local biz to install the unit and antenna. They did. It worked about 3 days. Then it didn’t work. We had just paid a biz to install a faulty unit THAT THEY DID NOT SELL US. And then the unit went south. That is when we discovered that the company in Texas will not refund anything for any reason. In the meantime the local guy gets paid to install the unit and then gets paid for uninstalling it. We get the privilege of paying $13 to return the broken part so that the Texas company can send us a replacement part that we now don’t need because we had the installers put in a new unit with the agreement that they would add the unit we were receiving from Texas into their inventory and give us a store credit. Holy smokes. And when we left the installer, the XM worked. Only one day a few days later, it quit working. So, the Rayman called the installer and the installer had the Rayman drive the car in and he checked everything and everything was OUR fault because we had forgotten to register the new box with Sirius. If we were “with it,” we would have intuitively known that…but, hey, we’re old geezers now and sometimes lucky to find our car at the mall.

But I digress.

So, Rayman brought the car home with the instructions to get the unit registered. All things in this area of expertise must be handled by me. He hasn’t got the patience and in defense of aging, he has never had the patience to handle this kind of stuff.

So, these XM people needed our unit’s number. Well, howdy dowdy…how do you get that? You turn on your XM radio and the unit gives you the number on channel zero. Only our unit does no such thing. So, the XM lady sends me out to the car and tells me to turn it on, turn the radio on, look for channel 0. No channel 0 is forthcoming. Channels 1 thru 7 is all I get. At first, I can hear those channels. Then the talking goes away. So, I decide after a while, I think I will back out of the garage. The woman on the other end of the phone says, “You are in your garage?” (hear “what kind of an imbecile are you, lady?”). So, I back out and things do not improve. Then Rayman returns from the hardware store and I tell him what’s happening and he says, “We have the unit’s number on the receipt. I told you that.” (another imbecile moment, perhaps?) So, Rayman finds the receipt while I stay seated in the car talking with the XM lady. So, 50 minutes after I started the conversation, I got the XM to work. And that’s after untold dollars to install and remove the Texas unit, then install a new unit, double check the antenna connection and so forth. And so the woman at the other end of the phone takes pity on my and offers me three months of free XM service on the new unit. “Just call this, xxx-xxx-xxxx and they will give you three months of free service.” And when I call that number, the man on the phone said, no. “You only get one month.”
Some signs of aging perhaps? But it was fun because if that hadn’t happened, I would not have taken the time to blog because life would have been too boring to report. So, aging really does wonders for the boredom factor. We are rarely bored. We are not working in a cubicle with deadlines and milestones and ladder-climbing bosses. We’re just moving though a speeding up time continuum trying to get life to work for us and that’s great fun, really. Just traveling with the Rayman through time.