Here I am at the fabulous Asnet Chastenet resort in St. Lucia. It is so beautiful here. Sun, sand, and warm water fill my days. But I have taken very few pictures.
Before I left for St. Lucia everyone said, “Be sure to take lots of pictures.” They did NOT say “Show me all your pictures when you come back.” Because in reality, nobody wants to see your three pictures of the beach where the first French ship landed or the volcano pictures taken from every angle and at every distance. And pictures of sunsets, especially two or three from each night, are never the same as the real thing.
So my friends will be relieved to know that I will have a total of three pictures to share with them: the view of the bed surrounded by mosquito netting and flanked with a pretty amazing wall sculpture, the array of amenities artistically stacked in the bathroom, and the ocean from the beach chair I have claimed as my own.
In reality there are a few sights I should have captured: the young woman wearing a whtie shirt that was about 3 sizes too small and was inside out with a giant black tag and price tag hanging off her neck; the look on the zipline guide’s face when I told him I was so good at this I’d take his job (this was after he had to pry my fingers from the line after escorting me on my first panic-filled pass down the line). And the ball that I hit into the tall palm tree while playing tennis. (I quit then.)
Oh, and it’s also good to have a picture of yourself. But I passed on the opportunity of doing a selfy in my bathing suit doing yoga. The ripples of crumpled skin I saw while doing some weird contortion? I think not. You’ll just have to believe I was there!
And, although I could have, I didn't attach a picture of the sunset! Cheers to another fruity drink!
Monday, March 17, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Auto warranty
My car warranty was up. I ask for information on purchasing a new warranty. It is expensive. I go through all the possibilities. I am a magnet for odd things happening to my car so I know this is the best choice. But it’s really expensive.
They are offering a spa treatment if I finalize the deal by the end of the month. I love going to the spa. But, the guy tells me it’s for the car not for me. Really? OK, don’t need that. I don’t have time for a spa treatment for me, why do I care about the car.
So I ask the guy to reduce the cost by the spa treatment, which will save me $259. He says great, that will reduce the cost by $50. What? I thought $259. He tells me that $50 is what it costs the dealership for the spa treatment. Then he gives me the slick car salesman smile.
I tell him that I can get the price reduced by $200 from another dealer. I pause and smile sweetly as I start to pick up my cute Gucci purse flashing my newly gelled finger nails. He offers me $300 off. I’m happy. (Probably still screwed on the deal, but I’m glad to have it done.)
Two days later, on Super Bowl Sunday, I pack up my crockpot with chili and put it on the floor behind the front seat of my car. A few blocks down the road I hit the brakes and you know it, the lid flies off, the pot tips over and there is chili all over the floor.
I should have gotten that car spa treatment.
They are offering a spa treatment if I finalize the deal by the end of the month. I love going to the spa. But, the guy tells me it’s for the car not for me. Really? OK, don’t need that. I don’t have time for a spa treatment for me, why do I care about the car.
So I ask the guy to reduce the cost by the spa treatment, which will save me $259. He says great, that will reduce the cost by $50. What? I thought $259. He tells me that $50 is what it costs the dealership for the spa treatment. Then he gives me the slick car salesman smile.
I tell him that I can get the price reduced by $200 from another dealer. I pause and smile sweetly as I start to pick up my cute Gucci purse flashing my newly gelled finger nails. He offers me $300 off. I’m happy. (Probably still screwed on the deal, but I’m glad to have it done.)
Two days later, on Super Bowl Sunday, I pack up my crockpot with chili and put it on the floor behind the front seat of my car. A few blocks down the road I hit the brakes and you know it, the lid flies off, the pot tips over and there is chili all over the floor.
I should have gotten that car spa treatment.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
TSA prescreen trauma
This new TSA prescreen sounds like a great idea: SOUNDS! In reality they give special treatment to certain people who don’t have to take off their coat and shoes or remove their liquids or laptops.
Unfortunately this privilege is given to people who are completely undeserved. For the second time I dash up to the security line and race into the TSA prescreen line with my luggage flying behind me, only to screech to a halt behind a group of overclothed, confused individuals who are moving things from one bag to another for what reason, I’m not sure. And they’re taking their shoes off.
While inching toward the one and only x-ray station, I see the A list line whizzing by me. Even the “regulars” have 8 stations and are moving at a reasonable pace. I’m A list. Why did I think this prescreen was a privilege? To avoid taking my shoes off, I’m waiting, waiting, waiting. Now I see why. Probably a third of the people in the TSA prescreen have water bottles, wine, puffy jackets, or stuff in their pockets and have to be extra screened. One even stopped in the middle of the x-ray machine and turned around like ring-around-the-rosy.
The screener kept saying, “You’re done. You can step out. Hey, mam!”
I thought prescreen meant you are experienced. Guess not.
Feeling annoyed and a bit smug, I get an iced tea and get on the plane. I sit in my favorite place grumbling to the flight attendant about all the people who don’t know what they are doing. After I have successfully protected the middle seat from someone sitting in it, I stand up and sit in the window seat – landing squarely on my iced tea, which explodes, creating a cold wet mess.
Great experienced flyer, right?
Unfortunately this privilege is given to people who are completely undeserved. For the second time I dash up to the security line and race into the TSA prescreen line with my luggage flying behind me, only to screech to a halt behind a group of overclothed, confused individuals who are moving things from one bag to another for what reason, I’m not sure. And they’re taking their shoes off.
While inching toward the one and only x-ray station, I see the A list line whizzing by me. Even the “regulars” have 8 stations and are moving at a reasonable pace. I’m A list. Why did I think this prescreen was a privilege? To avoid taking my shoes off, I’m waiting, waiting, waiting. Now I see why. Probably a third of the people in the TSA prescreen have water bottles, wine, puffy jackets, or stuff in their pockets and have to be extra screened. One even stopped in the middle of the x-ray machine and turned around like ring-around-the-rosy.
The screener kept saying, “You’re done. You can step out. Hey, mam!”
I thought prescreen meant you are experienced. Guess not.
Feeling annoyed and a bit smug, I get an iced tea and get on the plane. I sit in my favorite place grumbling to the flight attendant about all the people who don’t know what they are doing. After I have successfully protected the middle seat from someone sitting in it, I stand up and sit in the window seat – landing squarely on my iced tea, which explodes, creating a cold wet mess.
Great experienced flyer, right?
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Christmas Morning
Christmas Eve was wonderful. If by wonderful you think I mean it was perfect – not exactly.
You see, I was sick with the flu on the 23rd so for my Christmas Eve dinner, I swapped the caviar pie hors d’oeuvre for cheese and crackers; the spinach soufflé for cooked carrots; and called a guest asking them to bring dessert.
But I was still looking forward to a festive time as I happily bounced out to the car to get that last item I had forgotten. The trip resulted in a $95 bill – I decided to buy one bottle of wine for a gift so had to buy 6 to get 30% off. You know the drill.
When I returned, humming “What child is this”, I saw a brown spot and silver foil on the carpet.
Lady, my “perfect” cocker spaniel had enjoyed the 8 chocolate Santas I had left on the floor to wrap for a few children who would now celebrate a chocolate-free Christmas. Lady had dined in all three bedrooms and there were spots and crinkled foil in each room.
I screamed at her, of course. For those of you who say, “Scolding an animal after they have misbehaved is confusing and does nothing,” well, I really didn’t care about the learning experience for her. It was about doing something other than tossing her over the fence, which is loving in its own way.
But it’s Christmas, time for joy and forgiveness. So I pet and love her little chocolate face, Next I pop the massive roast in the oven and turn to the sink. It’s backed up and full of water and “stuff”. Of course I turn on the garbage disposal. I got a B- in plumbing 101 but I must have failed that test as everything simply went to the other side of the sink. I put Draino in the sink. No bueno. I plugged the GD (garbage disposal, you potty mouths) side and started plunging. Nothing.
Oh well, guests arrived and we had a lovely evening. Throughout the evening we played our new favorite game. Plunge the Sink. Each guest took a turn plunging when going into or passing through the kitchen. But nothing helped. But we all chuckled.
I wiped the dishes, rinsed them in a bucket and hid them in the dishwasher to wash after someone who really understands plumbing helps me out. I’m going with the Scarlet O’Hara theme: I’ll worry about that tomorrow – the 26th as I’m going to spend today with friends and family.
But, my Christmas Eve was truly wonderful: full of love and happiness with family and friends. I wish the same for each of you!
You see, I was sick with the flu on the 23rd so for my Christmas Eve dinner, I swapped the caviar pie hors d’oeuvre for cheese and crackers; the spinach soufflé for cooked carrots; and called a guest asking them to bring dessert.
But I was still looking forward to a festive time as I happily bounced out to the car to get that last item I had forgotten. The trip resulted in a $95 bill – I decided to buy one bottle of wine for a gift so had to buy 6 to get 30% off. You know the drill.
When I returned, humming “What child is this”, I saw a brown spot and silver foil on the carpet.
Lady, my “perfect” cocker spaniel had enjoyed the 8 chocolate Santas I had left on the floor to wrap for a few children who would now celebrate a chocolate-free Christmas. Lady had dined in all three bedrooms and there were spots and crinkled foil in each room.
I screamed at her, of course. For those of you who say, “Scolding an animal after they have misbehaved is confusing and does nothing,” well, I really didn’t care about the learning experience for her. It was about doing something other than tossing her over the fence, which is loving in its own way.
But it’s Christmas, time for joy and forgiveness. So I pet and love her little chocolate face, Next I pop the massive roast in the oven and turn to the sink. It’s backed up and full of water and “stuff”. Of course I turn on the garbage disposal. I got a B- in plumbing 101 but I must have failed that test as everything simply went to the other side of the sink. I put Draino in the sink. No bueno. I plugged the GD (garbage disposal, you potty mouths) side and started plunging. Nothing.
Oh well, guests arrived and we had a lovely evening. Throughout the evening we played our new favorite game. Plunge the Sink. Each guest took a turn plunging when going into or passing through the kitchen. But nothing helped. But we all chuckled.
I wiped the dishes, rinsed them in a bucket and hid them in the dishwasher to wash after someone who really understands plumbing helps me out. I’m going with the Scarlet O’Hara theme: I’ll worry about that tomorrow – the 26th as I’m going to spend today with friends and family.
But, my Christmas Eve was truly wonderful: full of love and happiness with family and friends. I wish the same for each of you!
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Shopping
Did I ever say I liked to shop? Well, I do and I’m darned good at it. Saks was having a sale. So I spent $3,000 on things I don’t need, but I liked, to get a $600 gift certificate I can spend next year. Technically, I can spend it now but don’t want to because it will take away from my shopping points and freebies for this year.
My shopper Connie had texted pictures of things she knows I need. Unfortunately, she also includes the shoes to “just try with the dress”. I have an entire closet full of shoes. I have 5 pairs of black heels, 3 pairs of beige, a pair of blue, and six pairs of boots, not to mention flats, sandals, and tennis shoes – for the gym, of course. But I love them all! Thanks to Connie, I have my own shoe showroom. Maybe I’ll have a two-for-one shoe sale. I can give points redeemable for tax research articles. Or, maybe not!
Of course, I also must get makeup from Katie so I can get the free gift with purchase. A free gift with purchase is an important part of my family heritage. Dad used to say that we bought something we didn’t want to get something we didn’t need. He was right. But what’s wrong with that?
My shopper Connie had texted pictures of things she knows I need. Unfortunately, she also includes the shoes to “just try with the dress”. I have an entire closet full of shoes. I have 5 pairs of black heels, 3 pairs of beige, a pair of blue, and six pairs of boots, not to mention flats, sandals, and tennis shoes – for the gym, of course. But I love them all! Thanks to Connie, I have my own shoe showroom. Maybe I’ll have a two-for-one shoe sale. I can give points redeemable for tax research articles. Or, maybe not!
Of course, I also must get makeup from Katie so I can get the free gift with purchase. A free gift with purchase is an important part of my family heritage. Dad used to say that we bought something we didn’t want to get something we didn’t need. He was right. But what’s wrong with that?
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Travelling the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend
We always fly to Sacramento the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend. It’s a challenging but often entertaining experience. This year was no exception: a plethora of “Huh?” and “Oh, wow” moments.
First, I was fortunate enough to get a TSA prescreen check-in so I didn’t have to disrobe, take my shoes off, or put my drugs and potions in a plastic bag for the world to see. I thought all people in this line were experienced travelers. I was wrong. There was a gentleman who tried to send his coffee through the scanner propped up in a bin by his murse (man purse). Following him were the two ladies with the dog in a carrier who thought they had to send the dog through the scanning machine and were practically hysterical. No. ladies, dogs – like children – dogs go through the people machine.
Second, some unfortunate individual left his or her shoes at the security checkpoint. TSA announced “Would the person who left their shoes at South screening checkpoint please return for them?” Three times in a half an hour period the announcement was repeated. How do you not know you forgot to put your shoes back on?
Third, Dudley and I met early to have breakfast and go over some things and although we had arrived 2 ½ hours before the flight, we almost missed it. Luckily Sean and Kerry were able to evil-eye people away from sitting in our preferred row. And what do you know – behind us in the plane was the dog – barking!
I saved the best for last. When we were on the tram heading to the terminal, there was a woman and her probably 10-year-old daughter. The tram was jerky and the girl wasn’t holding on. She grabbed her mother who promptly hissed in a loud voice, “I am going to kill you.” She was serious. After she realized everyone was watching her, she announced, “She was supposed to fly home but pitched such a fit they kicked her off the airplane!” Imagine banned from flying at age 10. She won’t get a TSA pre-check notice!
Finally, I’m tucked into my satiny Hilton-sheeted bed. I did need a room change, though. For some reason they thought I wanted a low floor and my first room was a superior room overlooking the accounting department. They seemed to be working hard but I didn't find this particularly superior.
It will be an interesting week!
First, I was fortunate enough to get a TSA prescreen check-in so I didn’t have to disrobe, take my shoes off, or put my drugs and potions in a plastic bag for the world to see. I thought all people in this line were experienced travelers. I was wrong. There was a gentleman who tried to send his coffee through the scanner propped up in a bin by his murse (man purse). Following him were the two ladies with the dog in a carrier who thought they had to send the dog through the scanning machine and were practically hysterical. No. ladies, dogs – like children – dogs go through the people machine.
Second, some unfortunate individual left his or her shoes at the security checkpoint. TSA announced “Would the person who left their shoes at South screening checkpoint please return for them?” Three times in a half an hour period the announcement was repeated. How do you not know you forgot to put your shoes back on?
Third, Dudley and I met early to have breakfast and go over some things and although we had arrived 2 ½ hours before the flight, we almost missed it. Luckily Sean and Kerry were able to evil-eye people away from sitting in our preferred row. And what do you know – behind us in the plane was the dog – barking!
I saved the best for last. When we were on the tram heading to the terminal, there was a woman and her probably 10-year-old daughter. The tram was jerky and the girl wasn’t holding on. She grabbed her mother who promptly hissed in a loud voice, “I am going to kill you.” She was serious. After she realized everyone was watching her, she announced, “She was supposed to fly home but pitched such a fit they kicked her off the airplane!” Imagine banned from flying at age 10. She won’t get a TSA pre-check notice!
Finally, I’m tucked into my satiny Hilton-sheeted bed. I did need a room change, though. For some reason they thought I wanted a low floor and my first room was a superior room overlooking the accounting department. They seemed to be working hard but I didn't find this particularly superior.
It will be an interesting week!
Friday, November 8, 2013
Be fashionable - Nazi's rules
Nazi (pronounced Naw-zee – not like the political party) is my stylist. And she has rules. They include some pretty good suggestions, like:
• Wear something tight on top and loose on the bottom (or vice versa) for contrast and layer, layer, layer. I’ll show you layers – of back fat!
• Don’t wear a choker necklace: It brings attention to your neck, which she says is the least flattering part of your body. I’m not sure that’s true in my case, I have a couple of pretty ugly toes. But I can go with this one.
• Don’t mix black and navy. I think I knew this, but does it count when I accidentally wear a black shoe and a navy one because it was dark and maybe I had a glass too much of wine last night?
In addition, Nazi tells me:
• NEVER wear sneakers except to the gym;
• NEVER wear flip flops except to the beach; and
• ALWAYS dress as if you will meet the man of your dreams while you are out – at the grocery, drug store, cleaners? Well, that could be good: he’s showing his feminine side. Or it could be bad: He can’t afford to pay someone to do this! (Sorry, that sounded snippy)
• ALWAYS wear multiple bracelets, necklaces, rings but ONLY wear big cocktail rings and not on ring finger if you don’t want men to think you are married. I’m just picturing myself at the airport bedazzled with miles of chains and rings – like Mr. T. Glad they don’t make us take off all jewelry any more.
“Really cute” (pronounced rullycute) is her favorite expression. I like it when she says that to me. It doesn’t happen too often.
• Wear something tight on top and loose on the bottom (or vice versa) for contrast and layer, layer, layer. I’ll show you layers – of back fat!
• Don’t wear a choker necklace: It brings attention to your neck, which she says is the least flattering part of your body. I’m not sure that’s true in my case, I have a couple of pretty ugly toes. But I can go with this one.
• Don’t mix black and navy. I think I knew this, but does it count when I accidentally wear a black shoe and a navy one because it was dark and maybe I had a glass too much of wine last night?
In addition, Nazi tells me:
• NEVER wear sneakers except to the gym;
• NEVER wear flip flops except to the beach; and
• ALWAYS dress as if you will meet the man of your dreams while you are out – at the grocery, drug store, cleaners? Well, that could be good: he’s showing his feminine side. Or it could be bad: He can’t afford to pay someone to do this! (Sorry, that sounded snippy)
• ALWAYS wear multiple bracelets, necklaces, rings but ONLY wear big cocktail rings and not on ring finger if you don’t want men to think you are married. I’m just picturing myself at the airport bedazzled with miles of chains and rings – like Mr. T. Glad they don’t make us take off all jewelry any more.
“Really cute” (pronounced rullycute) is her favorite expression. I like it when she says that to me. It doesn’t happen too often.
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