Jet Lag; Delphi; Busy Bees; Ge, the Earth Mother; Early Reveille???

Okay, international travel wasn't that hard when I was 25. Now it's a little tougher to fly seven time zones east and try to function normally on one hour's sleep in 24 hours. I arrived in Athens, Greece on Monday morning and met Suzanne at the airport. After a week apart when My Lovely Bride was giving presentations in Crete, it was great to see her. We immediately boarded a van bound for Delphi, a two and a half hour drive west through Athens and its suburbs, then into the mountains. We were to spend two nights there, and I hoped to catch up on some sleep before the heavy sightseeing began. I managed to get a few hours in, but it wasn't nearly enough. The next morning, we drove to the world-renowned archeological site where the Oracle of Delphi and a lot of other treasures were located. We were 10 turistas, 2 turistos and one tour guide, Yanni. Here is our group, less Yanni serving as photographer, in front of the Thalos of Athena Pronaia. We were blessed with perfect weather, 75F and sunny.  This group for the second week is a subset of the 45 members of last week's conference.





Suzanne was in an ebullient mood and feeling the vibes of this sacred site, as you can see in this photo taken on the hillside above the Tholos. No, her voice did not cause ten of the columns to come crashing down. That was caused by various invaders and an earthquake or two, as best we can determine. An historical note: the Tholos was built in about 380 BC, or 2,400 years ago. Yes, it was already in its fourth century when Jesus lived. You get a different perspective of time when you visit Greece...












Speaking of time, not everything here is old. These bees are creating honey today. Suzanne captured them collecting pollen from these ivy flowers. Shops in town sold fabulous honey that is also used in some of the very sinful Greek desserts like baklava, which we of course had to taste as a matter of international good will...











The Temple of Apollo is another famous landmark here. Built about 700 years before Christ, it was established here in Delphi after Apollo killed the Python, the snake that guarded the oracle of Ge. This began Delphi's reign as the spiritual and cultural center of the ancient Greek world.










You may recognize "Ge" as the prefix of words like geography and geology. Ge was the deity "Earth", the first deity worshipped here. These small bronze figurines from the Mycenaen period depict Ge as the Earth Mother and symbolize fertility, are approximately 3,000 years old, and are in the fabulous museum at Delphi. 3,000 years old... that's even older than My Good Friend Bob, who keeps pimping me about driving My Lovely Bride's Corvette... I told you there would be a payback, Bob...






Well, after walking around Delphi in the hot sun, MLB was getting thirsty. There are no guys selling beer in the archeological area, so she had to resort to finding water from Ge, the Earth Mother. Fortunately, there is a sacred fresh water spring of pure mountain water that she was able to find to quench her thirst. Remember, folks have been drinking this water for over 3,000 years!










I am starting to wilt by this point, what with lack of sleep and a seven hour time zone difference. In this photo, there is actually someone behind me holding me up, and scotch tape is holding my smile in place...



















Speaking of lack of sleep, imagine my shock when, during a break, our tour guide announced that on the morrow, we would be departing for our next stop, Mykonos, at 0400. As a reminder for you civilians, 0400 in the Navy is 4:00 AM in the Real World. That meant reveille at 0300 (3:00 AM), the same time that I had to get up for my flight from Orlando to JFK... this is almost like being back in the Navy and standing watch on the bridge of a destroyer from midnight to 0400 after a full day of work...  I would write more, but I am out of energy, and falling asleep as I type..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sweet Brewnette; Go Take a Hike; Pink; The Earth Moved; Driving Her Corvette; Oh No, I'm at the Wrong Airport!

While walking the puppies at a local recreation center, I came upon this advert for a mobile coffee canteen. It was reminiscent of the paintings that went on US bombers in World War II... Hey, great legs!













Go Take a Hike! Okay, I did. My Lovely Daughter Elisabeth and I are taking a week in December to hike and rock climb (Ty, are you losing your marbles?) out in Joshua Tree National Park, east of Palm Springs, California. I figured I'd better put on my backpack and hiking boots and get in some training miles... so if you happened to see some guy in a South Carolina ball cap tramping around Lake Sumter, it was probably me. It was warm and humid, which it won't be in the high desert in December, but what the heck, Suzanne was out of town, and what else did I have to do?





The hike also gave me some time to myself for personal reflection. (No, I didn't look down into the lake. I could see that question coming from several of my readers; I know who you are!) Other more spiritually advanced folks meditate while listening to Gregorian chants. I meditate to Kelly Clarkson and Pink. But occasionally I shift to Enya and Dido when the mood calls for it. I also like to stop and smell the roses while I hike/walk/wander. There were no roses on this hike, but (speaking of Pink) these pretty grasses caught my eye. I think they are grasses, but remember, I am a sailor, not a horticulturist.






As you may know, Suzanne is in Crete. I am joining her for week two of her adventure, assuming that transportation has not been disrupted by the earthquake that struck Greece yesterday. Here is the only photo that MLB managed to send before the wireless equipment at her hotel went on the fritz. I am sure she will have lots more to share later, but I think that the Greeks need some help getting their technology caught up with the times...








Yesterday I had to go up into the attic above the garage to retrieve luggage for my trip. After backing up Suzanne's red Corvette, I hadn't even gotten the ladder set up when My Good Friend Bob came over and asked, "Ty, is that as far as Suzanne will allow you to drive her 'Vette?" Bob is such a smarty pants.








I arose from blissful slumber this morning at 0300 to Christina Aguilera belting out "But I Am A Good Girl". I had a momentary dream that she was right there singing to me, but lest My Lovely Bride get jealous, I quickly tossed that vision aside, along with the comforter. Christina was only in my iPhone, and I was sleeping alone...

Not only was Suzanne on another continent, but my ever-faithful Rudy and Gretchen were no longer snuggled up to me under the covers. They had packed up and moved to My Good Friend Bob's house yesterday at dinnertime. I had offered to bring them over at 0400 when I left for the Orlando airport, but Jan and Bob politely declined my gracious offer.








It was a lonely household when I got up, turned on the coffee, showered, and did final packing. There also aren't many cars on the streets of The Villages at that hour. My driving companion, Jill, gave me excellent directions to MCO, and as I drove down US Hwy 27, I glanced at the GPS and thought I had been beamed up north to Minnesnowta! Look at those lakes, Terri...






But I was still in Florida, and an hour and a few minutes later, I was standing at the economy parking lot shuttle shelter. Another traveler heading to Kentucky asked if I knew which terminal Allegiant Air flew from. I said no, and a few minutes later the shuttle bus arrived, whereupon the poor guy found out that he was at the wrong airport... Allegiant only flies from Orlando Sanford airport, 30 minutes from MCO. Bummer. Fortunately, I was at the correct airport, and I did make my flight. The only glitch came when I was pulled aside by the friendly TSA agent (unfortunately they are not affected by the government slim-down) and told that my shaving cream container was too large. (See, size does matter.) Darn, and it was only a week old!



JFK. Not the president, but the airport... that's where Your Faithful Correspondent is sitting right now, watching planes take off for myriad destinations around the globe while munching on a bagel with peanut butter. Foreign carriers like El Al, South African Airways, Swissair, Air India, KLM, Air France and Aeroflot (God help anyone who flies that airline...) are lined up outside. I have a seven hour layover here at JFK. Then a 10 hour red eye flight to Athens. Ah, the delights of international air travel. Maybe I'll get lucky and not suffer the jet lag that My Lovely Bride has been enduring for the past week. And maybe pigs will fly. (I had better be more careful; what if Miss Piggy reads this and is assigned the seat next to me... SMACK!)

A Local Hero; Is That a Saw or a Knife? A 76 Year-Old Beauty; Parking Hall of Shame; A Flashy Pelican; Dinghy Towing; Wadsy's Delight

While walking Rudy and Gretchen today at Sumter Landing, one very nice lady asked to pet them. We got to talking, and I found that Judy has a heart of gold. She rescues lost and unwanted dogs. She only has three now, but has had up to 7 or 8 in the past when one of her newly-rescued female dogs had an unplanned litter. Judy ensures that every dog she cares for gets his/her shots and is neutered. She has paid hundreds of dollars out of her own pocket for veterinarian care for her dogs, and ensures that they go to good homes. Judy gets our Hero of the Week Award. If you happen to see her around The Villages supervising a landscaping team, please thank her for her wonderful work.











What is really funny is that I had actually met Judy yesterday. I was on my way to grab a cup of coffee at Panera, and saw this group of guys trimming a small oak tree's limbs. I started laughing when I saw the small (no, tiny is a better description) hand saw they were using. I ragged them about why they weren't using a real saw, and Judy laughingly replied that their truck was around back, and it would take longer to get the big saw out of the truck than use the tiny pruning saw they had in hand... (they all had a great sense of humor, and I promised not to send a copy of this photo to management).







I am not really a car person. Let me clarify that statement. I like cars as transportation, and for carrying kayaks and bikes, but aside from an occasional spin in our convertibles, cars don't mean a lot to me. But I really admired this beautifully-restored 1937 Packard, still looking good at 76 years old! However, I have to admit that I was more than a little disappointed when I saw magnetic signs for a real estate agent on the right and left doors...












Getting back to cars, this summer wasn't a great time for Parking Hall of Shame Awards. It seems that The Villages has a higher than average number of folks who ignore parking stripes, like the owner of this yellow Daytona. The white stripe is under the center of the driver's door!  (Sorry, Dale, I looked for Japanese cars, but Detroit drivers seem to have the Hall of Shame locked up...)





Pelicans have always intrigued me. The white pelican is the Louisiana state bird, of course, and while we were sailing, I always enjoyed watching them dive for fish. Pelicans go blind as they age because of the high impact with the water when they dive. When we were in Pensacola recently, I saw this fellow on a street corner. He is painted with the colors and emblems of the countries that settled, ruled or owned Pensacola over the years (Spain, France, England, the Confederate States and the USA).








In the RV world, the car towed behind an RV is called a toad, but the method of towing is called dinghy towing, relating to the small boat, or tender, usually inflatable, towed behind a sailboat or powerboat. This RV has taken dinghy towing literally!











Our final story is of my brother-in-law Brent's Dachshund Wadsy. His name is really Wadsworth (yep, you guessed it, as in Longfellow), and he loves to chase geckos in his side yard. One had eluded capture and found refuge in a planter full of old golf balls. Well, that wasn't a very bright gecko, because now he was trapped! We watched as Wadsy pulled golf ball after golf ball out of the planter. Thankfully, we left before The Final Reckoning...

A Good Omen; Back Home! Girls with Hammers; Grand Nieces; A Guy with Needle and Palm; A Singer, A Lawyer, Sushi and a Warning

It's been a few days since the last blog... longer than I would have preferred, but our schedule since arriving home back in The Villages has been just a bit hectic. When we departed Suwanee State Park in Lee, Florida, we got an early start, and had this beautiful sunrise sky to look at
for a few miles. We regarded it as a good omen for our homecoming.







After getting off the Interstate and regular back roads, we arrived in The Villages to find some changes. The trees, golf courses and lawns seemed greener and more lush than when we left... probably due to the heavier than normal rain over the past couple of months. As we pulled onto our street, Rudy and Gretchen were sitting in Suzanne's lap, and his nose was twitching like crazy. After saying hello to our neighbors, we got to work and unloaded The Coach. We were fortunate in having Suzanne's friend Elizabeth volunteer to work like a dog unloading. Then Bev Garlipp arrived just in time to help with the new painting that Suzanne's friend Barry Mack had sent her. (Now, guys, imagine my concern when Elizabeth asked for a hammer and screwdrivers... I made the mistake of laughing and saying, "What, girls with tools?" Fortunately I was outside the arc of the hammer in her hand, so I felt safe.) 







 
 
 
We were all amazed at how perfectly Barry's gift fit in the intended space and matched the color scheme in the study.  I have to admit, the ladies actually did a pretty good job of hanging  Barry's  stunning painting... like the Brits say, "I guess I have been made redundant." It took two days to completely empty The Coach's closets, cabinets and belly compartments, and get her cleaned her up inside and out. It was amazing how much stuff she was carrying. Our garage is now an official disaster area until I get it re-organized. 
 












Just about the time we were arriving home, Suzanne's niece Lisa and her daughter Zoe arrived at Suzanne's mom Ruthie's house for a visit. We stopped by, and watched in wonder as Zoe ran from room to room at top speed half a dozen times. Then Lisa and Zoe visited us in The Coach
and at our house.














Lisa and Zoe were heading to Disney for an entire day, and have this great picture with Cinderella to prove it. Lisa said that at the end of the day, Zoe went to sleep before they even got out of the Disney parking lot. Lisa deserves a vacation after this week; I don't know how she keeps up with her 3 year old!
















We are still recovering from several long days unpacking and cleaning, and also getting used to the last time zone change. One morning I actually got up at 0600 for a walk in the dark and caught this sunrise at 0700. It's a quiet and peaceful time, and listening to the birds wake up and start their chirping was a real treat.   






Shortly after my walk, Rudy and Gretchen awoke and asked to go outside, where they met their friend Suki. I chatted with our neighbor Chris, Suki's nominal "owner", but we all know who the boss is in any dog family. The three puppies exchanged summer adventure stories for a few minutes and then got down to important business... 










Over the past couple of days, I have assumed my alternate persona as Mr. Fix-It. After being snubbed as part of the painting erection crew (no snide remarks there, please!), I got my first assignment. My Lovely Bride was at the sink and turned on the disposal, whereupon a loud bang was heard, followed by water gushing out from under the sink. The disposal's plastic case had developed a crack, and was now leaking badly.









Off to the store for a new one, and an hour or so later, out goes the old unit and in goes the new one. Then I got assignment number two. Suzanne's roller suitcase's back zipper was coming off, and she was worried that it would get snagged by a conveyor belt on her upcoming trip to Greece. Knowing that I had saved my ditty bag of sailor's palm, needles and sail thread from our sailboat, I was detailed to make repairs. I even got ribbed for letting the girls do the work with hammer and screwdrivers while being assigned sewing tasks. Sometimes My Lovely Bride
is not very amusing. At least I had Rudy to commiserate with.






On Friday night we took some time off from the house and went to dinner with our friends Lawyer Gail and Nashville singer-songwriter Karen Taylor-Good. We met at our favorite Japanese sushi restaurant in Sumter Landing. As we arrived, Gail and Karen were debarking from Gail's car, which was parked in a rather obvious (but unmarked) "no parking" area. I asked Gail if she liked living dangerously, but she laughed and said, "Hey, I'm fine there. There's no sign saying 'No Parking.'" O-kay... don't say I didn't warn you... 





We had a great dinner, with lots of laughing, and proceeded out to the cars to find a red warning posted on Gail's windshield. Gail is a public defender in Marion County, and thought she was safe, since we weren't in Marion County, where the local police have a 24/7 APB out to track her down and give her a citation, warranted or not. "Sorry, Gail... guess the word's out!" 

Karen is in town for a concert Sunday evening at the North Lake Presbyterian Church, behind Home Depot in Lady Lake. Because Suzanne has a very early reveille at 0300 Monday morning for her trip to Greece, we will be unable to attend, but we encourage everyone to attend and experience Karen's lovely voice and incredible talent. Also see Karen's web site at www.karentaylorgood.com .

Test Post Sep 30 2013

This is a test post using Notepad rather than Microsoft Word. If it works, I will be formatting future blog posts in Notepad. Hopefully this will resolve any issues with the blog software. Thanks for your patience.

Test photo

New Family; Demo Diva; Gulfport; Pensacola; Headed Home

It’s not often you get to meet new family members as an adult, other than youngsters. I had the good fortune to meet two half-brothers and a half-sister while in New Orleans. It’s a long story, but I was able to connect with Frank, Donna and Donald. We (and Frank’s Lovely Wife Julie and My Lovely Bride Suzanne) had lunch together at Drago’s (yes, more oysters) and I learned more about my father. He had been a Golden Gloves boxer, joined the Navy in WWII and served on the aircraft carrier USS Ticonderoga. His mother was a Guidry from St. Martinsville, Louisiana, so it turns out that I have Cajun blood that I never knew about. The stories kept coming, and I felt a real connection to my new siblings. They are very successful business people, and run two marine management and transportation companies in Houston and New Orleans. Each of them has four children. Donna had even flown in from Houston, and they made us feel really honored and part of the family. Donna and Suzanne also got to talk about spiritual subjects. It was a very special day.

Before leaving New Orleans, we took the puppies to Lafreniere Park in Metairie to look for squirrels. They treed a few, but it was very hot, and we had to walk from shady oak to shady oak, staying out of the brutally hot sun. This sign caught Suzanne’s eye… there aren’t many places in the country where “boiling seafood” is even considered, much less prohibited. (The salt and spices would presumably draw nasty bugs and other critters.)

 

 

 

One last stop, though, before we left… back to Morning Call for beignets and café au lait! Part of the fun is shaking powdered sugar all over your beignets, the table and your table-mates!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside, another unique sign on the side of an industrial-sized dumpster… Only in New Orleans would they have pink dumpsters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Saturday morning, we packed up our coaches and headed for Gulfport, Mississippi, where we had lunch with our good friends Joyce and Sharon from The Villages. They were working on Sharon’s aunt’s house in very quiet and quaint Gulfport, which had been hard hit by Hurricane Katrina. It was great seeing them and knowing that they too would be back in The Villages next week. I need Joyce’s photography expertise (she taught the subject) to improve my skills. Digital cameras are wonderful, but they are a lot more complex than my old Brownie…

On to Pensacola and our home state of Florida! We arrived at the Naval Air Station’s Oak Grove Campground to find two very hateful campsites within 50 yards of the beach. We use the term “hateful” to jokingly describe really beautiful places; this one is tucked away in an oak grove (gee, that was a surprise) mixed with pines. Of even greater import, the oaks were filled with…. SQUIRRELS! We stopped counting after the seventh little furry rodent, and Rudy and Gretchen were soon exhausted from chasing the critters up oak trees. We took a nice walk on the beach, which is typical of this area, very fine white sand, like sugar.  

Fort Barrancas, a Civil War brick fort, lies just offshore on a barrier island, and the historic Pensacola lighthouse is just 100 yards away from our campground. The large orange “day mark” is part of a visual range that helps mariners steer their ships into Pensacola Bay; the channel buoys are a few hundred yards off the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

On Sunday, Suzanne gave the message at Unity of Pensacola, followed by her Making the Connection talk. Two women even drove all the way from New Orleans, a four hour trip, to attend. As always, Suzanne’s presentation was very well received.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Unity events, we were able to sightsee a bit in the historic section of downtown Pensacola. We ate grouper and shrimp dinners at the annual seafood festival, and admired the lovely restored 19^th Century homes that are so typical of the Gulf Coast. This would be a delightful place to live (at least during the cooler months).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are now only 30 hours or so from arriving home in The Villages. We will stop for the night at Suwanee River State Park, and roll back onto Little River Path on Tuesday afternoon, assuming that our neighbors Bob and Jan have moved their coach from in front of their house back into storage. We gave them a day’s head start because if we arrived together, we would completely block the street! It’s been a long, fun summer, but we will be very happy to get back home…

Blog Post Problems? Family; Copper River Salmon? New Orleans; Oak Alley; Mafia Meals

We have been experiencing posting problems on this blog over the past week. You may not have received the email blog, even though they were posted on the web site. We have not resolved the issue with Google, but I hope that this post gets sent out correctly. If not, we may have to find another host. Watch this space for more information.

After departing Jackson, Mississippi, we stopped in to visit my sister Karen and her partner Debbie. They have a gorgeous 4 acre estate on the Tchefuncte River in Covington, Louisiana. They are retired nurses, and their house looks like something from Southern Living magazine. Debbie made us a beautiful salmon dinner, and as we were leaving mentioned that she was giving away a lot of canned goods soon.

 

 

 

 

She pointed to a pile on the counter, and my heart raced as I saw a large cellophane-wrapped box of Alaskan Copper River smoked salmon. The conversation went like this: “Debbie, did you err and leave that smoked salmon lying around for five years until it went out of date?” “No, Ty, a friend gave it to us as a gift last week, and it’s too high in salt and sugar from the curing for us to eat.” Sure enough, the box had a 2013 label and a June 2018 expiration date. (I may have been staring and drooling heavily at this point.) “Ty, would you like that salmon?” “Debbie, I would crawl over broken glass for Copper River salmon.” (I learned early in life to never look a gift salmon in the mouth.)  And now that salmon is sitting on our countertop, awaiting our arrival home for a celebratory meal.  

Our next stop was New Orleans. Our neighbors Bob and Jan met us here in their coach for their first-ever visit to the City that Care Forgot. We are camped out in the Elks Lodge parking lot in Metairie, outside the city itself. It’s quieter here, and much less expensive than a commercial campground. It was funny though, because when we arrived, the usually empty parking lot was filled with taxi cabs. The local taxi union was having a vote, and cabs kept coming and going for hours. We briefly detoured to a K-Mart parking lot and waited for the hackneys to clear, finally getting settled in just before Jan and Bob arrived. They were slightly delayed because My Good Friend Bob decided to try a trick I used last year… locking yourself outside of the coach. His electronic door evidently is possessed by a gremlin, and when he stepped outside to hook up his toad, the door locked him out. Since this happened in the middle of the day, rather than at 10:00 PM like we did, I don’t think he gets full points for timing. On the other hand, he made up for his daylight error by leaving his coach running for two hours while he waited for a locksmith to arrive and hand cut a new key. So I guess he gets more total points than I earned, but not by much.

Part of any trip to New Orleans is enjoying the unique cuisine (Creole, Cajun and seafood) that the city offers. Our first dinner was at my sister Lynn’s house, where she made our mother’s great soup recipes and sandwiches. It was great catching up with family, because we don’t get back to New Orleans every year. We also enjoyed showing Jan and Bob around the French Quarter. We made obligatory stops at Café du Monde, praline shops, the French Market, and Jackson Square, before heading to Bourbon Street. Because we went early morning, debauchery was at a disappointingly low ebb; there were only a handful of leggy young strippers in clear Lucite 9 inch platform heels, halter tops and scanty skirts hanging out in doorways trying to entice young fellows from Iowa and Nebraska into their shows. (I told Bob that we might have to come back later for better scenery… Smack!) (Photo censored by Higher Authority.)

But as always, food is the primary reason to visit New Orleans. Many great restaurants are located in the suburbs rather than in New Orleans itself, and we enjoyed a fabulous dinner at Drago’s just a few minutes from our coaches in Metairie. Their specialty is charbroiled oysters with garlic butter and French bread. (I am convinced that this is one of the top meals in Heaven.) 





 

In between tasting local cuisine, we did actually do some more sightseeing, like up to Vacherie, Louisiana, on the Mississippi River between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. Oak Alley is my favorite plantation to show visitors. The oaks are over 300 years old, and run from the big house to the levee along the river.





 

This plantation home sold for $60,000 during the Depression, and fortunately has been beautifully restored. Fire destroyed the separate kitchen building years ago, but fortunately the house was not seriously damaged. The walls are 18 inches thick; 12 foot ceilings and lots of windows helped keep the house reasonably cool considering the hot, humid climate here.




 

Our tour guide, Sarah, was eloquent and thoroughly knowledgeable about the history of the Roman family who built the plantation back in the 1840s. Here are a couple of photos of the dining room and master bedroom. Sugar cane fields still ring the house, and several rebuilt slave quarters attest to the dark side of plantation life in the 19^th Century.

 

On Thursday evening, we helped Jan and Bob celebrate their 44^th anniversary at Venezia’s, a neighborhood Italian restaurant in Mid-City that was a Mafia hangout in the days of Carlos Marcello (and maybe still is?). Our family went there weekly when I was a kid, because my stepfather played poker with the wise guys. (I’m not sure it was good form to beat them at cards too often.) Our next stop was at Angelo Brocatto's Spumone Shop for Italian ice cream. It's located only a few doors from Venezia's, and yes, the wise guys used to hang out there as well.