Road Trips

One of the things Alan and I did while dating, was taking road trips since he had just moved here from Memphis and wanted to see what the area around San Antonio had to offer.  The Hill Country nearby is without a doubt the most glorious scenic area second only to the island of Kauai and the Grand Canyon.

To encourage the road trips, we have a selection of vehicles in which our comfort is at a premium.  The latest addition is a 2004 XK8 Jaguar convertible.  After giving Alan static about getting a “gun metal gray” car, he very calmly looked at me and said that the color was “platinum.”  Okay! 

Yesterday, we took our platinum convertible on a road trip to Corpus Christi to see the gulf and then we headed north and east into Rockport and back to San Antonio.  One of the thrills of going south is looking for what I have termed “our bridge” which is a bridge just sitting in the middle of a field with a “for sale” sign on it.  This time, I wanted to get the phone number so I could call and get some information on it – like cost, weight, material, etc.

What promoted the inquiry was an article in the Saturday funnies that a bridge on the East Coast has been stolen.  How do you steal a bridge?  This is another one of those situations in which major planning has to take place.  The East Coast bridge weighed 40 tons.  How do you even move a 40 ton bridge and do you need a permit to do it if using a major road?  How long does it take to “break down” it into manageable pieces and do you need to be quiet about it?  Seems to me to be a very noisy process.

“Our bridge” wasn’t there or we missed it while talking about it so making a telephone call was needless.  It still keeps me thinking about who and why would you “sell” a bridge. 

The only thing useful about this blog is a reminder to “not burn your bridges,” as someone would probably call the fire department. 

Gratitude

This time of year always reminds me how blessed my life is and how wonderful it is to enjoy the standard of living that surrounds me.  One of the major influences I have had in my life early were books. 

Having been raised as an only child (my sister above me is nine years older and my oldest brother is twenty years older), the only friends I had growing up were books and my imagination.  So, I used books to communicate, to teach, to carry me away to wonderful places to meet wonderful people. 

Today, my favorite leisure time experience is curling up with a good book and it doesn’t matter if it is fiction or not.  My idea of a great vacation is, plopping down on a chaise lounge with a good book, and someone fairly young with just a few clothes serving me cool drinks as needed. 

When I look around my office, my walls are lined with bookcases and are filled with the experiences of people who were compelled to enlighten me with their wisdom in their books.  I find it to be an interesting area of thought to be able to put common sense into readable communication because common sense is not so common these days.

On this Thanksgiving Eve, I am so grateful to all of the authors who had the courage to publish, who gave so much of themselves in print, to teach me what I am today.  When I look around the world I have created for myself, I am infinitely grateful to be so blessed. 

Allow the Great Substance of the Universe to be your expression and experience of life today.

Hotels

Having just spent a week at a plush hotel in Las Vegas, I had forgotten what it was like living with thousands of people all moving in their own worlds like they were living at home. 

I was stunned at the amount of doors that were slammed throughout the hotel at all hours of the day or night.  I realized that living behind closed doors amounted to being at home alone if one choose to do that. 

Once out of the room, everything changed.  The rules of etiquette and just good manners were lost.  I was again stunned at the rudeness, impatience and people just cutting in line like they were the only ones in the universe. 

I first encountered the line cutting in the sumptuous buffet that was offered at all hours of the day or night.  I was incredibly surprised at the quality of food available upon demand and in quantities that meant that there was more than enough for all no matter how many times you wanted to get more. 

I had heard my former husband refer to a “rube” but had never quite experienced what it meant first hand until Las Vegas.  I watched this man charge through the place, often just reaching in front of others without regard to courtesy or manners.  And I watched as many were so stunned by the actions, they didn’t say anything to him.  I am not sure what I would have said either.

For the rest of my stay, every time I was awakened by a door slamming shut, I just figured it was the rube.  Apparently, there were a lot of them staying on the same floor as I was.