Travels with The Rayman

 

 

Here I sit zooming across the sky heading west against the jet stream.  Seems like as good as time as any to blog about our last 24 hours in South Carolina.

It started out with a fabulous breakfast.  Virtually every waitress asked not once but at least twice how everything was.  This outfit took teamwork to a new level and this resulted in excellent service and food.  And of course, I loved their biscuits.  Yummy.

Then we drove to Savannah where we parked a car and jumped on a tourist van in the parking lot of the visitor’s center.  A big, heavy set woman with an emphysema-sounding voice conducted a very informative tour of the downtown area of Savannah.  Truly a beautiful city.  With all the squares interspersed throughout, it is an outstanding example of great city planning and it happened in the 1700s.  I think.  Anyway, the oak tree is the state tree…just like CA and FL.  Didn’t know we had anything in common with South Carolina…or Foridah.   But hey, you learn something new every day.  Also learned that many of the mansions in the city center had welcoming hands staircases  that afforded the visitor two ways to climb up to the front door.  Very elegant.  There were also lots of statues and fountains and downtown Savannah may be the only place in the entire state where you can find an accurate street sigh.  It seems the people of South Carolina do not excel in street signage.  The name of the street you might be looking for might be named Petroleum Axelrod Way.  But try and find it.  On the phone app it is called S10-1828 or Chattsworth Parkway.  But It really doesn’t matter because you won’t find a street sign for any of these names.  They just don’t do street signs.  Many times all week long we had to backtrack because we missed the nonexistent sign.  Or if it was existent, it was tucked away as though they really didn’t want you to find it.

And then there is the point in the story when I must take some personal responsibility.  Firstly, we decided to go to S.C. in the first place.  Secondly, we came without Glenda, our Garmin, the creature that gets us where we are going in places we’ve never been before.  Or perhaps we’ve been there before but we forgot how we got there.  She also is adept at locating gas stations, ATMs, grocery stores, golf courses, restaurants, post offices, cupcake shops, hotels, motels…vacation clubs, for god’s sake…all the things that we looked for this week.  But Glenda was home basking in the glove compartment of our car INSTEAD OF IN OUR CARRY-ON.  So…new rule.  No more trips without Glenda (international travel is the exception because I’m too cheap to buy the software which runs into the hundreds of dollars).

But I digress.

We learned all about southern confederate generals and sea grasses.  We found out that crime is a problem and that our tour lady is afraid of bridges because they are high above the water.  Savannah also has one of the largest ports in the nation.  Another thing we learned (not on this tour) is that if you are an out-of-state person that buys a vacation home in South Carolina, you will pay 4% of the assessed evaluation to the S.C. tax assessor.  If you live in S.C. and own a home, you will pay 1% of assessed evaluation.  Now isn’t that interesting?

 

After we took the tour, we hunted down a vinegar and olive oil store that Ruth knew about and she bought some vinegar and then we headed out to Tybee Island to the Crab Shack, a restaurant, who’s motto is “Where the elite come to eat in their bare feet” or some variation of that.  It was unique.  Complete with an alligator pen, we took a few pictures.  Then we planted ourselves under a big old oak tree right at water’s edge and ate crab and shrimp with our sandals on our feet.  The furniture was unique.  Each round table had a hole in the middle where you threw your shells (a big garbage can was underneath).  A good time was had by all.  If you go, don’t go so much for food as the fun.  Just say’in.

Then we headed for the Savannah airport to pick up our rental car.  And just as we got in the car to drive up to Charleston, it started raining.  What great timing.  Luckily it stopped because when it rains here, it really RAINS.  And this is the part of the trip where we got lost about three times because of previously reported signage problems.  Also, because we needed to look at the phone so much, our batteries wore down to less than 10% on both phones.  It was like driving into the gas station on fumes.

We checked into our Best Western Plus which was anything but and it was almost dark.  Rayman announced that he was hungry (we only had 1/4 lb of boiled shrimp and crab stew) for lunch.  So, I announced that first I had to charge my phone and look something up on Yelp.  Yikes.  When I reached into my carry-on to get the cords to the computer/phone…I discovered that they were coated in dark chocolate.  Did I mention that the day was hot and the chocolate was in the my carry-on?  Well, this is what I did.  And that darn chocolate just up and decided to melt all over my cords and the bottom of one of the compartments of my carry-on.  Ugh.  What a MESS.  Yes, it was previously opened.  No, it did not get stored in a baggie.  So.  There you have it.  At this point in the dialog I have to ask the question.  What were we thinking?  More to the point.  What was I thinking?  This faux pas took about 45 minutes of cleaning.  Now… the good news is that my carry-on smells chocolatey.  And it very clean.  Also, it could have been worse.  I could have put the chocolate in the compartment with the computer, Kindle etc.

I’m freezing right now.  The plane air conditioning has gone bonkers.  Apparently it is only affecting about 3 rows in the fuselage and we are in one of the rows.  I picked the seat.  Rayman raised his eyebrows at me.  And you know what that means.  People are turning blue.  Hoodies are on heads.  Less than an hour to go.  Hope I make it!  We change planes in Houston so we’ll get another shot at a warmer seat.

But I digress.

So, at this point a few more overarching observations are in order.  There are a lot of pine trees in the Palmetto state.  They line all the roadways.  They often times hide strip malls.  They always hide road signs.  There really aren’t that many billboards which is a good thing.  Biscuits are the best, best, best and I’m wearing them and the fried chicken I had the other night.  OH, the fried chicken.  Well.  It was a southern thing to do.  So I did it.  At a restaurant called Annie O’s.  But what is so much more memorable is that Beau, our doggie, was home with Aunt Nancy and he found a froggie that Rayman had had since he was a baby which means that this froggie was an antique.  I might have been able to sell it on eBay.  But, alas, that is out of question now because Beau mauled it “to death”.  That stinker.  And Aunt Nancy had emailed or texted me the bad news.  And how this all comes together is that at the restaurant, I repaired to the ladies room where I was greeted with the following.

 

Now, what are the chances of that?  Quite the coincidence, I’d say.  And while on the subject of Beaumeister, apparently he has been eating the tennis balls at the doggie park in our absence.  Oh, that silly dog.  I’m just glad Aunt Nancy didn’t strap him to the roof of her car!!

And did you see that 14 minute trailer of the film harpooning Mohammad?  Talk about causing trouble.  Rayman and I are lightweights compared to the people that did that film.  It just proves to me that there is a fool with money behind every tree.  Who would spend a nickel on that junk?  As Gail Collins pointed out…looked like a bunch of guys who had too many fake beards on their hands…or something like that.   It also illustrates that the rioters are very misguided.  But enough of that.  I only mention it so that if I read this epistle again, I can recall what going on at the time.  I will refrain from pointing out that the Mittster really blew it this week around the embassy communique.

So…the trip is just about history and so am I.  My finger tips are blue and my bare feet are numb (sandals).  But Fleetwood Mac sounds great in my ears.  Listening to my exercise music thru my headphones so that I can wiggle myself to the beat and keep ice from forming on my nose.

 

 

 

Yesterday was a day of old people antics.  Really, I can’t figure out how we got this old.  How did it happen?  When?  Seems like just yesterday that I was early in a career, commuting, dealing with office politics etc.  And now…here I am, turkey neck and all.  And there is also another aspect to this situation.  My mind.  It seems to hold less and less if you get my drift…unless it happened 45 years ago or unless it’s lyrics to a Ricky Nelson song.  Go figure.

But I digress.

Yesterday went something like this.  Ruthie didn’t feel good (she caught my cold) so she opted out of golf.  That left me in the back seat with two men up front in the car trying to navigate us to the golf course.  That did not go well.  We turned here.  Turned there.  Backtracked here.  Backtracked there.  Asked a man mowing the lawn.  Then asked a man out on his morning walk.  Finally, we arrived at the golf course.  Because Ruthie wasn’t there, I had a cart by myself.  When it was time to proceed, I left for the first tee.  And I ended up on the tee by myself.  The starter called the other course (there were three) and asked if they were any confused people around.  They (count them, 6 other people) were lost in space.  They went to the wrong place.  They finally arrived.  Then we were off and playing.

On the 3rd hole Michel discovered a 5 wood in her golf bag.  It wasn’t hers.  She swore it just appeared.  We figured that it belonged to one of the guys.  So, she drove back to them and asked who’s club it was.  Bryan, her significant other, said it wasn’t his.  He had a Cobra 5 wood and it had a head cover just like this, but it wasn’t his.  No one claimed it.  So she brought it back.  And then on the 7th hole, she inspected the wayward club and voila.  It had a name tag on it and it was Bryan’s.  Howls ensued.

I almost made a hole in one.  See picture.

 

On the 11th hole, I remembered that I had a sandwich in the cooler on the other cart.  So, I asked whose sandwich was who’s.  Pat said that hers were wrapped separately.  And I thought I had two halves since Ruth didn’t show.  And that’s how I ate the wrong sandwich.

 

The day culminated in the other condo.  Salmon was on the menu.  It was fabulous.  Barbecued salmon, roasted squash with bacon, asparagus, salad, and killer garlic bread.  But the question of the evening was, “Okay, what is the revenge for the fudgesicle conspiracy blog?”  The time had arrived.  Dessert was at hand.  What could it be?  Out came a bowl with one bite of fudgesicle.  Really?  really.  Hooting was heard.

 

Then, Pat showed a stroke of genius.  She served dump cake.  Have you ever had dump cake before?  You throw a can of pineapple, cherries for pie, a yellow cake mix and some butter together and bake it.  Simple.  Easy.  Delicious.  Great idea.  And we were all winners.  So in one dessert they served the ying and then the yang of desserts.

 

 

 

One of the things this traveling group does as a matter of course is cook for each other.  So…for the week we are here, each couple is responsible for cooking dinner once.  This is figured out in advance.  Each couple decides what they will cook.  In this case, couple number one did ribs.  Couple number two did lamb chops.  Couple number three did clam pasta, couple number four did salmon.  All very tidy.  The other thing is that dessert is always included on the menu.  We might not have salad, or a veggie, but we always have a main course and dessert and wine.  On this we do not waver.

So, the first night we had peach ice cream with blueberries.  Yum.  The second night we  had fudgesicles.  Fudgesicles?  What was that all about.  They were 40 calories.  No respectable dessert has just 40 calories.  For heaven’s sake.  There was a hue and a cry emanating from the condo.  It should be noted, however, that everyone ate their fudgesicles.  Whining ensued between bites off the fudgesicle.  Now, as a person that fancies herself a gourmet cook, I have to mention that the fudgesicle was not the fudgesicle of old.  When I was a kid, fudgesicles were acquired from the man in the truck which announced it’s arrival to the neighborhood with “that song”.  Parents probably cringed when they heard it because that is when the begging started.  “Oh, please.  It only costs 10 cents.”, I would implore.

But I digress.  Fudgesicles used to be big.  These fudgesicles that were offered as dessert lacked heft.  They were shaped like a hotdog weenie.  And that’s a NICE description.  A skinny hotdog weenie at that.  So, the teasing came easy and often.  And it gave the over-wined group a reason to hoot and holler.  After this went on for some time, the “cooks” repaired to the kitchen refrigerator and came out with frozen Reese’s peanut butter ice cream cups.  These were gobbled up with great fanfare and then it was announced that each cup held 380 calories.  OMG.  Luckily most cups were split since there were only 6 cups in the package.  And dinner was concluded.

Fast forward to yesterday.  It was the Rayman and mine turn to cook.  Our plan was to barbecue lamb chops.  Only when we returned from golf, we found the two  barbecues torn apart and on the ground.  Tom tried to get the management to fix them…at least one…to no avail.  So broiled lamb chops it would be.  But what about dessert?  Well.  We had that covered.  We planned to serve cupcakes from a bakery because we didn’t want to buy flour and sugar for one little dessert.  So the Rayman located a bakery on the iPhone and we arrived at the French Bakery which had cupcakes.  On the way to the bakery, we laughed about the fudgesicles all over again.  What could we serve that would fit under the low bar that had been set?  Tootsie rolls, it was decided.  But that was a fantasy because we were not going to buy a bag of tootsie rolls just to get tootsie rolls.  Well, in the French Bakery I noticed a jar of candies used as kiddie treats behind the counter.  And in that jar were some tootsie rolls.  So…I asked if we could buy 8 of them!!  The nice woman gave us the 8 tootsie rolls.

We enjoyed lamb chops, Greek salad, string beans with butter and garlic, couscous with lemon juice, eVOO, garlic, and mint.  And we served one tiny tootsie roll on a dessert plate to the hoops and howls of our fudgesicle serving friends.  Too funny.  And as we served the tootsie rolls…Michele said, “I thought you were going to serve cupcakes.”  Busted.  How did she remember that?  And then we served the cupcakes.

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday we checked out of the hotel and headed to Costco.  Had a shopping list that was compiled by our group.  The rest of the group flew to Savannah.  Savannah does not have a Costco.  We flew to Charleston.  Charleston has a Costco.  And that’s how we ended up with the shopping responsibility.

Oh, and you say that the picture above is not us?  Well.  You are right.  And it wasn’t taken in the Deep South either.  It was taken in Istanbul.  But I didn’t have a picture to share with you so I decided this would pique your interest.

Salmon, lamb, pork ribs, cottage cheese…the list went on and on.  We dutifully selected everything on the list and piled it into our rented Corolla.  Oh, and it was 94 degrees so we needed to buy some coolers and ice.  Rayman entered the portal of Piggyly Wiggly market and emerged some time later with three 6-pack size styrofoam coolers.  That’s all they had.  Oh, and the ice.  So, we loaded what we could into the three (read not much).  Then we drove to CVS and he rushed inside to see it they had coolers.  They did.  He bought one.  It was much bigger.  Still it was not big enough to hold all the groceries so we retraced his steps and emerged with another one of the same size.  Finally, everything was squeezed in and iced down.  And off we drove.  When we arrived at the condo on Hilton Head, we brought everything in with the help of our friends and hosts, Tom and Ruthie.  “Where’s the yogurt?”  No one had seen the yogurt.  “Where’s the cottage cheese?  The eggs?  The turkey?  No one had seen these items either.  OMG.  We arrived with exactly one less large container than we had bought…and a lot less food.  WHAT?  HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?  Don’t know.  But it happened.  We left $37 worth of food on the side of the road (parking lot actually).  OMG.

Everything else that happened paled in comparison to that doozie.  What a couple of numbskulls.

We went out to dinner and kept getting lost and we were in the backseat I’m happy to report.  There was a guard shack at the fancy entrance to Harbor Town.  They charge $5 to enter.  We kept getting lost and asking the guy in the shack to let us turn around so we could find our way to where the heck we were going.  Three times that happened.  And we (me and Rayman) weren’t driving…did I mention that?  Ruth and Tom made us feel good and cheered us up with those moves.

Also went shopping after dinner.  We descended upon the store, each with a list in our hands so shopping could be done quickly.  Ray had beverages, me fruit and veggie etc.  You get the idea.  Man, are fruit and veggies expensive here.  And the stuff isn’t nearly as good as home.  On the other hand, gas is $3.49/gal.  Trade-offs, I suppose.

Today we played golf in very warm conditions.   I did not distinguish myself on the course.  That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Tonight Ruth and Tom did the cooking.  Homemade mac and cheese, honeydew and raspberries, broccoli salad, pork ribs.  Peach ice cream.  And did I mention wine.  Lots and lots of wine.  The food was fabulous.  We do eat good food when we cook in.  The plan was to barbecue and Tom and the Rayman almost blew themselves up trying to light the barbecue without instructions.  Perhaps a few eyebrows were singed.  Just saying.  And as luck would have it, it started raining and rained steadily during the cooking time.  Tom had par-cooked them earlier so they were finished off in the oven, thereby saving perhaps burnt arm hairs.

And the wine was Hahn from California.  Pat, organizer extraordinaire (pictured above), upgraded to first class and was able to carry on 2 cases of wine plus a few more in her suitcase.  She discovered that you are allowed to bring any alcohol 24% or less (alcohol level) on board in first class.  Pretty cool, that Pat.  She knows how to figure all the angles.  And this allowed us to enjoy CA wine in S.C. – yes we are in South Carolina.  The reason this is such a big deal is because I announced on my Facebook page that we had landed in Charleston, N.C.  My cousin, Walt (resident of Tennessee) immediately corrected me by saying, SOUTH CAROLINA.  And this proves that half the time I have no idea where I am.  On the flip side of things, North…South…all part of the confederacy…so what the hey?

And I have no pictures from tonight so I thought since I’m all confused anyway…a picture from last year would be okay to use just so you could see two of the people I’m referencing.  Creative, no?

We also squeezed in a swim this afternoon.  Small warm pool.  Fabulous.  And now it’s time to turn off the lights.  The party of over.

 

 

 

 

I’m shocked.  Shocked.  When trying to listen to my music on the Southwest jet today, I couldn’t access my music because it is all in the iCloud.  So, we’re flying through clouds and the iCloud is messing with me.  Who knew?  Did you?  My advice.  Move some of your music to your iPhone or iPad so you can listen to it in the clouds because if it doesn’t physically exist on your “toy”, you can’t access it.  As you know, the iCloud required wifi and you can’t use wifi on an airplane.  Ain’t technology great?

Hi folks.  I’m writing from Charleston, N.C.  Just arrived after a day of flying.  My arms are tired.  My head is tired.  My body is tired.  My Rayman is tired.

Just switched off the Democratic convention. Obama just spoke.  Man, is he fabulous.  It’s the only speech I watched the entire time.  Been too busy moving, traveling etc.  Life gets in the way.  Glad I was able to catch the speech though.  As a person, I can definitely identify with him and the Dems.  He’ll get my vote…again.

But I digress.  Let me see.  Last night we spent the night in L.A.  When we checked into the hotel, there was no reservation waiting for us.  What?  Luckily the Hacienda had room at the Inn.  Bottom line.  I made the reservation for the wrong date.  It is so hard being me.  I had us checking in a day before we had reserved a room.  Hence no reser.  Luckily, no extra charges ensued.  I’m quite sure they took one look at us and felt pity.  It’s come to that folks.  I can hear the people behind the desk.  “Had an older couple try to check in.  No reservation listed.  Ends up they screwed up the arrival date.  God.  How hard can it be?”  Well, let me tell you something…darn hard.  Life is hard.  So there you have it.  Of course, this has probably never happened to you.  But IT HAPPENED TO US.  So.  Moving on.

Had an excellent flight to Nashville today.  Then a problem raised it’s ugly head…the plane that was to fly us to Charleston was wounded.  Leaking hydraulic fuel.  Mechanics were on site.  On board.  It took an hour or more to fix the problem.  When we landed in Charleston, the landing was hard.  I overhead a guy behind us say, “Guess they’ll need to fix another leak after that landing.”  Captain Boom came to mind.  Don’t know about Captain Boom?   Read my blog from Mexico!!

Rayman witnessed a woman being hauled off by the police.  She went nuclear about something…I missed the whole thing because I was on the phone with eBay with a question.  When I returned, Rayman was relieved.  He was told an older woman had freaked out and taken away by the police.  As he told the woman sitting next to him, “I was relieved because it wasn’t you.”  Then the woman asked us if we heard about the man with explosives on a plane out of Philly.  I said that was too much information for a day on which she was flying.   She agreed….aggressively.  Got the impression she wished she hadn’t turned that darn TV on.

When we arrived in Charleston, we reminisced about how the last time we were in this airport, the security people insisted on checking our suitcases.  And when I say checking, I mean spreading our dirty laundry all over the counter to inspect for, what?  Bombs?  Flammables in our underwear?  Anyway, we got a charge out of that line of thinking as we walked to the car rental counter where we encountered perhaps the most soft spoken man I have ever met.  A man who whispered in a southern drawl.  Quite captivating.  With cheaters poised on his forehead, he seduced us into buying gasoline.  Then it was on to the carousel to pick up the luggage and then out to the parking lot to get into the rental car so we could immediately get lost.  It WAS NOT OUR FAULT.  There were no signs to identify street names.  This led us to almost tossing ourselves into a big ditch while maneuvering the car to turn left.  No cones.  No warning lights.  These people in N.C. need to take a course on street signs…how to use them effectively.

I had booked ourselves into a Marriott…Courtyard.  From the road, we could see a big Marriott…seeing it and actually getting to it was maddening.  And then, they told us we were at the wrong hotel.  Luckily the right hotel was just down the street.  Both Marriotts did an outstanding job of hiding their reception desk.  It took us two twirls around the first one to find it.  And the second one was almost as well hidden.  What’s up with that?  Finally, we arrived and I refused to leave the hotel to find food.  1.  We might never find our way back  2.  Drinking and driving was not desirous  3.  I was tired.  So, we ordered in and drank wine with our veggie sub and dark chocolate.  So…this is our first night in the deep south.  Tomorrow we are on to Savannah.  And I promise some pictures.

Oh, and they had our reservation here.  And the woman behind the desk could have been Ethel Lander’s sister.  A real look alike.  Don’t know Ethel?  You should.  She’s fabulous.

More later.  Rayman is sleeping and the light on the computer is too bright.  And I agree.  Nighty night. It’s 12:30 a.m. now.

Oh, and a disclaimer.  The picture at the top was taken in Sydney.  Didn’t take a picture today but I wanted to create some interest for my dedicated readers!!

 

 

It might be a good idea for me to spring forth in the dead of night to write because i woke up about 2:30 and thought about some pretty funny stuff that would have been great in this blog…but it is 8:10 and those ideas/thoughts are long gone.  Where do things like that go?

 

And where is that doggone dog leash.  Just about everything it’s time to walk the dog (this happens around 8 a.m and 3 p.m. and 9 p.m., the leash just goes missing.  “Where’s the leash?”, the Rayman just exclaimed.  “I don’t know but I think we need a leash law.”, I cheerfully chirped.  And this is something that just happened so I don’t need to remember it now.

 

We worked our derrières off yesterday.  The Rayman suffers from a wine glass addiction that heretofore had not come to light.  But unwrapping three, count them, three boxes of wine glasses and finding a home for them in our downsized bay bungalow…and then finding a place to squeeze them in was difficult.  I suggested to him that we use these darlings on a daily basis (Riedels, read expensive) so that we can break them and then they won’t take up so much room.  As luck would have it, three of our 7 margarita glasses broke in the move…so that was a blessing in disguise because those things are monstrous.  Really, folks.  Who ever thought of the shape of those space killers?  Impractical glassware…it must have been a man.

 

But I digress.  It’s Saturday morning.  It is time to head to the beauty shop, an oxymoron if I ever hear one.  This is where you go to have a person shampoo your hair, a fabulous treat, only to be plunked down in front of a mirror with good lighting so that you can look at yourself with your wet hair pulled back revealing all that you spend a great deal of time hiding.  Discouraging and disgusting all at the same time.  They must do this so you’ll just be happy to get the hell out of that chair and run home and do something that will get your mind off that…which you just witnessed.  Just saying.

 

Just returned from a trip to the Uncle’s with an SUV full of pictures (art work).  And I don’t know where all of them are going to go…and I can’t part with most of them…they are just too important to me.  What’s a girl to do?  We’re going to do some hanging today.  I’ll let you know.

 

No pictures on the walls yet.  We got distracted with putting more things away.  And I just cleaned my teeth and now luxuriate in my bed with the Mac (MacBook silly).  I’m amazed at how much stays hidden in my teeth.  Before going to bed I used my water pik.  This is after brushing and cleaning between my teeth with a dentist approved pick that has little feathery pieces of plastic near the tip of one end.  And after all that, about 10 things came flying out into the sink.  Does that type of thing happen to you?  I mean, let me know here folks.  The Rayman says that I am just graced with this special problem.  Which got me thinking, “Am I alone?”.

 

But I digress.  WE HAVE OPENED ALMOST EVERY BOX AND FOUND A PLACE FOR THE CONTENTS…or we hauled more stuff off to Goodwill.  Both statements are true.  The bigger news is that most boxes are empty.  And the house is starting to take on the feeling of home.

 

Some casual observations.  There are missing drapes in the master bed.  Most of them are there…but two are missing.  Moving is torture.  We still haven’t found the phone.  Good thing we bought new ones.  There must be missing boxes???  After rearranging the guest bedroom three times, we settled on a layout.  Third time’s a charm?  Rug pads do work.  We found a picture of a bathroom that we like so we are going to use it to do our remodel.  We have three events scheduled for tomorrow.  We are meeting the people from the bay area that we exchanged homes with awhile back.  We will visit over breakfast.  Then, we have a doggie birthday party that was rescheduled because Beau’s sister, Jaycee, couldn’t make it.  Her master was in the hospital that day.  She is back and so we are having a party for the dogs.  At 5 p.m. we are hosting a party for all the folks that let us borrow their blankets for our move (needed at the last minute for wrapping furniture).  Should be about 12 here.  Are we crazy or what?  The Daily Show on Friday was a classic.  Please do yourself a favor and YouTube it or go to the website for the Daily Show and watch it.  It was the about the last night of the GOP convention.  It was brilliant and I want to keep it forever so I can memorize it add quote it at parties…Really, folks, it is THAT GOOD.

 

After we watched John Stewart and the Daily Show, we watched Austin City Limits on PBS and listened and watched the Dave Matthews Band.  It was fabulous.  I had no idea this group was that good.  Must buy some essential Dave Matthews but I can’t find the essential stuff on iTunes anymore.  What has happened to Essentials?  It is essential that I find out.  That was a great service and it’s gone?

 

My hair is really short now because I have such a good time visiting with Scot, that I forget to tell him, “Not that much.”  Or, “I would like to have it trimmed 1/4 inch.”  I was, however, 3 minutes late to my appointment this a.m. because I could not find my cell phone.  So, after looking in all the suspected spots, I used our land line and called it.  It rang.  It was in my pocket.  OMG.  I’m losing it.  The funny thing was, Scot, greeted me and then announced, “I can’t cut your hair today.  You are 3 minutes late.”  I loved it.  So, there I was explaining myself to my hairdresser.  And where did they get that word, “hairdresser”  Dressing of the hair?  Really?  Perhaps in the middle ages?  When flowers were placed in the hair?  But, hear me out, people.  We live in the 21st century.  Hairdresser, the word, should be retired.  My stylist.  The cutter of my hair.  My chemist (not any more).  My blower (as in blow drying).  My split end snipper.  But never “my hairdresser.”  Can we all just agree on that?

 

Time to retire.  Need to get my beauty sleep.  Such as it is.