Brandy; Looking Glass; Site R; Pilot/Sailor/Biker; Green Screen Images? Apostles, Warm and Cold

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For those of you whose first reaction to today's title lead was "Ty's hitting the sauce!", I can only say "No, I am reminiscing... but not about 1972, a girl or a French liqueur." Our local radio station here in The Villages plays oldies, and on Sunday they played "Brandy (You're a fine girl)". This 1972 hit by the Jersey Shore band Looking Glass made #1 and sold over 1 million copies. I was at sea then, and while I liked the band's song, "Looking Glass" held a very different meaning to me and a small part of the US military.






"Looking Glass" was an Air Force EC-135 aircraft that looked much like any cargo plane or tanker, but instead of trucks, bullets or jet fuel, it carried the most sophisticated command and control (C2) and communications equipment in the world, and a crew of about 30. It was called the Airborne Command Post (ABNCP), or more colloquially the "Doomsday Plane", because its mission was to provide emergency/backup command and control of nuclear forces if ground nuclear C2 centers at the National Military Command Center (NMCC) in DC, US Strategic Command at Offut AFB, Nebraska, and Site R in Pennsylvania had been destroyed/disabled in a nuclear attack by the Russians. It got its name because its capabilities and mission mirrored those of the three ground centers. When at high alert conditions, pilots in the early days had to wear one eye patch to prevent being blinded by a nuclear flash. Today they wear special goggles that instantaneously go opaque in the event of a nuclear flash. In 1998 the Air Force EC-135s were replaced by Navy E-6 TACAMO (Take Charge and Move Out) aircraft that can also communicate with our strategic deterrent submarines (SSBNs).


My indirect experience with Looking Glass's mission was at sea aboard destroyers and Battleship IOWA, while Suzanne's assignment as Aide to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during and after 9/11 took her to Site R, the Raven Rock Mountain Complex. Fortunately, these capabilities have never had to be employed "for real", but constant training, drills and inspections are designed to keep our forces ready for any contingency.







On a lighter note,the weather has gotten much more Florida-like over the past few days. Yesterday's high was 81, and the skies were mostly sunny. HOO-RAY!  I even got out to work on power-washing the driveway pavers, one of my annual household maintenance jobs.  My only complaint was that it was so sunny and hot, I needed a ballcap and sunscreen. And maybe a beer...


One of our long-time sailing friends, Jim Wohlleber, dropped in for a short visit. Jim is a retired Continental Airlines pilot who is now flying professional sports cheerleaders (oh, and their teams as well) around the country. He has a big motor coach like ours, and in fact first gave us the idea of getting one like his and touring the country in style. Just back from an "interesting" winter sailing voyage from Bermuda to the Virgin Islands, Jim is driving his sleek BMW Z-3 around Florida and thinking about getting a BMW motorcycle (capable of 170 mph)... can you see this guy in black leathers like Harley riders? HA! (He's not dressed in a coat and tie because we do formal breakfasts here at Das Giesemannhaus in The Villages; he's actually headed to a meeting in Gainesville.)





We recently heard from our Arctic Tundra Correspondent Terri of the Frozen North. She is well, and apparently recovered from surgery, because she has been sighted out snowboarding... not in sub-tropical Sochi, Russia, on the Olympic Half Pipe, but in Frigidly Cold Coon Rapids, Minnesnowta (temperature +1 degree F as I write these words). "Move over, Shaun White!"

Multi-talented Terri evidently has a lot of time on her hands (a common condition among snow-bound Far Northerners), because she forwarded us this "green screen" image of Suzanne and Your Faithful Correspondent...


















Those readers who followed our travels last summer may recall that one of our favorite stops was at Apostle Islands National Seashore, on Lake Superior. Here is My Lovely Bride paddling through a sea cave near Cornucopia, Wisconsin, last September. The weather was cool and sunny, but water temperatures were in the low 60s.







These more recent photos taken in the same area show that both air and water temperatures may have dipped a bit since we fled south for the winter... what is all that white stuff? (Thank you, Terri, for these beautiful images as well. I am sure they will help draw many Southerners up north to share in the joys of eternal winter!

Giving Back; Indoor Camping? Hard Chocolate; Under the Weather; Movie Call

On a cold, wet and dreary Wednesday we drove north to Stone Creek in Ocala for Suzanne's Heart Gifts presentation to the community's Metaphysical Club. In spite of the terrible weather, we had a great turnout that was held spellbound hearing about Wolf Pasakarnis, a young man who, like our daughter Susan, died when struck by lightning. Thanks to Karen Harmelin for making all the arrangements at Stone Creek. Proceeds from the event are being donated to Cornerstone Hospice in The Villages, where Suzanne's dad Bill Smeltzer passed seven years ago this month.

The weather here in central Florida has been miserable this week. We have endured day after day of cold and rain. Okay, perhaps the Sympathy Meters of readers in The Frozen North may not be pegged out, but for us, 40 degrees and rain is a pain in the neck. We are more used to 75 degrees and sunshine. Send this wet and cold back north! I had planned a short backpacking trip in a nearby forest, but was rained out. Suzanne suggested that I pretend I was backpacking and sleep on the floor of the living room in my new tent for a couple of nights. When I set it up for the first time and climbed in to make sure it was long enough, she asked if I wanted my sleeping bag. "No, Sweetheart, I am not sleeping in the tent tonight with a rug under me. This is just a test!"






We normally work at our computers at the kitchen table, just a few feet apart. I often have to get up to stretch or grab a piece of chocolate for a snack. I was delighted when I glanced up and saw a piece of unwrapped chocolate next to My Lovely Bride; even though it appeared to have melted and was a bit deformed, there was a Dove wrapper next to it, so I knew it would be good. A quick snatch, pop it in my mouth, and it would satisfy my sweet tooth for another 15 minutes... Imagine my surprise, chagrin and disappointment when what I thought was a piece of chocolate turned out to be My Lovely Bride's fulgurite, which she was writing about in her new book. Fulgurites, from the Latin fulgur, meaning thunderbolt, are a variety of the mineraloid lechatelierite. Sometimes referred to as petrified lightning, they are natural hollow glass tubes formed by lightning strikes in quartose sand, silica or soil. They are not generally edible. Bummer! 


The last couple of days have been pretty miserable, not only because of the crummy weather, but also because I was stricken (without any apparent cause) with acute lower back pain. What a stupid name; it's not cute at all. Forced to recline on the couch or bed, I have been able to read a lot. I finished Charles Krauthammer's Things That Matter (Five Stars; a Must Read) and am almost through Robert Gates Duty (also highly recommended). My Lovely Bride has been waiting on me hand and foot (as of course she should), but I did have to wait for five minutes longer than necessary when my plate of strawberries went empty. Sigh... it's hard to get good help these days... Smack! 





Last night we had Movie Call (that's the Navy term, anyway) over at our good friends Jan and Bob's house. Aboard my first destroyer (operating off the coast of Vietnam and without air conditioning), we watched movies under the stars, on the helo deck with a couple of sheets stitched together. Last night was much more comfortable, and the house didn't roll around too much. I have never been much of a movie-watcher, and had not seen The Sixth Sense. We joke that I was at sea for so long that I always fail the Jeopardy quiz questions about American pop culture, music, TV and movies. Frankly, I have never been a Bruce Willis fan, after seeing one of his ridiculous shoot-em-up flicks. I actually enjoyed this one, however, which many of you may already know is about a kid "who sees dead people" and his psychologist. But it was the surprise ending that really got me... I never saw it coming, and the acting was terrific. I'm looking forward to seeing another movie one day. Maybe even this year.

Fairfax, VA; Selfie; Stubborn; Villages Traffic Jam; Newfies; Screeching In; Golden Bras

Suzanne is just back from a 3 day trip to Northern Virginia/DC, where she spoke at Unity of Fairfax on Friday and Saturday. All three of her events, the Messages of Hope documentary, Making the Connection and Heart Gifts were well attended and enthusiastically received. In spite of the brutally cold weather, many people had driven from as far as Hershey, PA, Columbia, MD, and West Virginia to hear her speak. Carolee Egan, the event coordinator at Unity of Fairfax, graciously picked Suzanne up at Reagan International on Friday, took her out to dinner, and shuttled her back to the airport on Sunday.





While Suzanne was in DC's 20 degree cold, Your Faithful Correspondent was working hard here in The Villages. I did a two hour, 35 mile bike ride on Saturday to ensure that the roads here had been successfully cleared of snow. My reconnaissance proved that our snow removal teams had been on the job. I couldn't find a flake anywhere. I did have to suffer the frigid 55 degree weather and don a long sleeve shirt and gloves, but it was bearable. I emailed Suzanne this "selfie" to show her how extreme the weather was here in central Florida. She was not much amused. (I am glad that my "selfie" wasn't taken with a cute blonde laughing at my jokes like our Commander-in-Chief's picture which has been plastered over the Internet!)










Regular readers of this column may think that the "Stubborn" entry in the post title probably is an adjective that I am applying to My Lovely Bride, perhaps because of her continued use of the Serial Comma. You would usually be correct; today you would be wrong.


"Stubborn" in this case refers to our two dachshunds, Rudy and Gretchen, who are pictured here standing in what is euphemistically called "an anchor stance", feet planted wide apart and refusing to move. It seems that they don't like wet grass, and after taking them onto the lawn for their morning constitutional, they decided to act like they were anchored in place... they became little dog statues. I had to resort to "who wants a treat?" to get them moving. Have I mentioned that "Dachshund Obedience Training" is a contradiction in terms? Sigh.




While running on a golf cart path the other day, I came upon this unlikely scene. Two golf carts traveling in opposite directions had stopped on the path, with their drivers disembarking and discussing where Points A and B were on their maps while standing in the middle of the path, totally blocking all traffic, including This Intrepid Runner. Meanwhile, a third golf cart arrived and stopped, deciding that running over the other cart's drivers was unsporting. The two guys in question were totally oblivious to the fact that they had caused a traffic jam. I wonder if alcohol may have been involved? (Here in The Villages? Naaaahhhhhh....)

While w-a-l-king the puppies in t-o-w-n Sunday morning, I met a couple who wanted to pet Rudy and Gretchen, and as soon as they started talking, I asked them where in Canada they lived. (C'mon, when you hear more than one "Eh" in a sentence, you know right away the speaker isn't from Georgia, right?) Anyway, the lady said, "Oh, we live on an island, but Americans have never heard of it." 

I asked, "Which island?"

She replied, "Well, Newfoundland."

My answer stunned them. "My wife and I sailed our own boat to Port aux Basques, cruised the entire south coast of Newfoundland as far as Fortune Bay, and have even been "Screeched in". 

The couple was amazed because their island is hard to get to, and few Americans travel north of Nova Scotia. You have to take a ferry to get to Newfoundland if you're driving, but the scenery and the people make the trip unforgettable. The south coast reminds one of Norway, with deep fjords indenting the coastline. 99% of the traffic here is by boat or ferry, since there are virtually no roads. Helicopters provide emergency medevacs, and winters find many of the ports totally frozen over. 

One of our favorite small towns, called "outports" in Newfoundland, was Petites. It was a small fishing village of about 60 people which was in the process of being closed by the Canadian government to save money. (The biggest expense was providing electricity and a school teacher for a declining population, but the residents were virtually evicted, because Ottawa was going to turn their lights off.) Here is our sailboat Liberty moored to the town fishing dock in Petites.

Another one of favorite outports was Francois, which is actually pronounced "Fran-sway". (The Newfies have no love lost for the French.) Francois actually had 114 residents, mostly full-time fishermen. There was also an American couple in their 60s with a sailboat just like ours who had fallen in love with Newfoundland and decided to settle there, but the Canadian government had revoked their visa, and they were struggling with Ottawa to extend their stay. I wonder if Canadian bureaucrats get some training in Washington, DC.

We discovered a quaint tradition in Port aux Basques, Newfoundland: that of "screeching in", or becoming Honorary Newfoundlanders. We were non-Newfies, commonly called "Come-from-aways". Our ceremony was performed aboard Liberty by one of our first Newf acquaintances, who happened to own a liquor store. Screech is the local rum here in Newfoundland, which back in the 17th and 18th Centuries came from Jamaica in exchange for Newf salt cod. One is supposed to take a big sip of rum, and then kiss a cod. Because of the ongoing ban on cod fishing during our visit, this part of the screeching-in was held in abeyance, but we were warned that if we returned when there were cod to be kissed, the ceremony would have to be repeated. That didn't sound all bad...

Fortunately, we were able to fish for cod in the Bras d'Or Lakes of Nova Scotia, and here's the picture of a happy fisherman to prove it. My Lovely Mate's motto was, "I'll catch them, but I won't clean them." I didn't mind, because fresh-caught cod is beyond delicious. The lakes were named for golden brassieres supposed worn by the mermaids here. (Okay, I made that up. And Bob, if you make any smart comments about who caught this fish, you're in big trouble.) For those sailors or would-be travelers wanting to learn more about our trip to Newfoundland, Nova Scotia and across the Atlantic to Europe, please visit our sailing web site at www.libertysails.com.

Oxford Commas; TotFN; 12-Dog Nights; Zoomanne; StoweGood; Charm, Murder and Clamor

I have received many comments, a few supportive, but mostly not, regarding the previous post about excessive use of commas, often called the Oxford (or serial) comma. In her popularized style guide Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Lynne Truss writes: "There are people who embrace the Oxford comma, and people who don't, and I'll just say this: never get between these people when drink has been taken."

Good News (we think)! We have received communications from Terri of the Frozen North (TotFN). Well, at least, we have heard from someone claiming to be Terri. The photo at left was attached to an email, supposedly from Terri, but our facial recognition software only came up with a 35% probability of match with our file photo. We then tried to use a beta version of background scene identification software to determine whether the tree and house in the photo matched any in the Greater Coon Rapids, Minnesnowta Metropolitan Area, but the software suggested that the photo was taken either in Nome, Alaska or Novosibirsk, Siberia. On the positive side, it may indeed have been Terri, because the author of the email gave me a real ration of (noun deleted) about the proper use of commas. She also declared the weather in her purported location (MN) as "This Weather Can Kill You in Ten Minutes Wind Chill Blast". 

Speaking of the cold, I did some more research on the use of canines as insulation in winter weather, as mentioned in the Three Dog Night entry in a previous blog. In Minnesota, it's called a Twelve Dog Night, and that's barely sufficient in June. Come December-February, the dogs (sensibly) all migrate south to Florida, leaving the humans to their own devices. Another Minnesota factoid: the snowmobile was invented in Roseau, Minnesota, to allow local residents to attend Independence Day celebrations.


Since we don't have snow here in central Florida, we drive cars and golf carts, rather than snowmobiles. My Lovely Bride, AKA Corvette Chick, has acquired a new car-related nickname: Zoomanne. She received this name from Sharon and Joyce when departing their house in her "arrest me red" 'Vette, spooling the V-8 up to about 5,000 rpm, breaking a county excessive noise ordinance and causing a raft of ducks to run for cover.

We had the pleasure of a visit from two beautiful migratory songbirds from Tennessee last night: Karen Taylor-Good and Stowe Dailey Shockey. These Nashville singer-songwriters (and authors), known as StoweGood, are on a Florida/Alabama tour, and have graced stages here in The Villages for the past several years. They gave an awesome performance at Unity of The Villages. If you missed their performance, you can order their music and books at www.stowegood.com. But please plan on catching their performance when they return to The Villages.

You may have noticed "Charm, Murder and Clamor" in the heading of this post. You may be asking yourself, what the heck is all that about? Well, when I was looking up the correct name for a group ("raft" as mentioned above) of ducks on the ground (as opposed to swimming or flying), I found a list of proper bird group names. I was aware of many of them, but others astonished me. Here is a sample (the entire list can be found at http://www.birdnature.com/groupnames.html. (Personally, I think the last entry is an insult to the raven (Corvus corax), pictured here, but the group name is appropriate, since they are often considered pests, are omnivorous and opportunistic, and frequently feed on carrion.)


Bird Name         Group Name
bitterns                    siege
chickens                  peep
coots                       cover
crows                      murder
finches                    charm
hawks                     cast
larks                       exultation
nighthawks             kettle
peacocks                muster
rooks                      clamor
turtle doves            pitying
ravens                    congress

Dingos, Pols and Rockers; Giesemann Family Feud; White Wolf Kachina; Dinner with Bongo; Darkroom Stories; A Three-Fer?

I received a query about the term "two dog night" that I used in the last blog. For those readers not acquainted with the 60s/70s American rock group, Three Dog Night, the band's name was suggested by the lead singer's girlfriend, who had read an article about Australian Aborigines. In cold weather, they would sleep in a hole in the ground while hugging a dingo (Canis lupis dingo), or wild dog. A colder night would require a second dog, and on rare nights when the mercury dropped below freezing, it would be a "three dog night". Dingos are different than most dogs... they can climb trees, and often puppies are found in tree dens. The dingo mates for life, and may mourn itself to death after losing its mate. They may be the progenitor of all other dog breeds, but unlike most other canines, they do not have dew claws. This is a really wild dog, and it is rare for a dingo to be successfully domesticated. They are officially classified as "wildlife" in Australia, and cannot be kept as pets or companions in many parts of the country.



Dingos have a varied reputation in their homeland. Among the Aborigines, they are often revered and treated like friends and family. Dingos are reputed by some Aboriginals to have supernatural powers, and are connected to rituals, totems and holy places. There are instances of dingos being buried with their masters to guard them from evil spirits (Viking warriors followed a similar burial practice). Many ranchers, however, see their sheep killed by dingos and are not amused. Australian politicians even refer to their opponents as dingos (cowardly and treacherous), but one might suggest that similar attributes are found among many politicians worldwide... "Oh, sorry, Senator Reid, no insult intended."



Now, back to the band... for those who followed Three Dog Night back in the day, here is a photo of the trio in 1969. One of the top bands of all time, they sold over 50 million records, and are still performing (they look a little older now). In fact, Three Dog Night will appear in Orlando on Feb 23 at the Downtown Food and Wine Fest. Rock on!






Now for the serious part of the blog. My Lovely Bride and I have had a discussion... a disagreement... a falling out, so to speak... she can be so hard-headed sometimes, even in the face of expert support of my position. Let me explain... She is a very successful author, and has ten or so books to her credit to prove it. I acknowledge her skill at the craft of writing, but one of her (dare I say) shortcomings is the inability to agree with her Loving Hubbie (Your Faithful Correspondent) on the use of commas. Yes, commas. Let me elucidate. "Today, we met Sharon, Joyce and Bongo for dinner." In that sentence, I correctly used one comma. My Lovely Bride would have written, "Today, we met Sharon, Joyce, and Bongo for dinner." I have mentioned this difference in grammatical usage (delicately, to be sure) several times over the years to MLB, with no apparent effect. Today, I was ordering a book for my Kindle, Charles Krauthammer's Things That Matter. One of the quotes in the Amazon write-up of an interview with Mr. Krauthammer was: "With commas the rule should always be: the fewer the better. They are a scourge, a pestilence upon the land. They must be given no quarter. When you list three things, it should be written: a, b and c. If you see a comma after the "b"—call 911 immediately." I brought up this matter to My Darling Author yet again, and received a "Harrumph... we can agree to disagree." Sigh...

As many readers are aware, Suzanne has worked with Professor Gary Schwartz, PhD, head of the University of Arizona's Laboratory for Consciousness Studies in Tucson. Gary and His Lovely Bride Rhonda recently sent Suzanne a White Wolf Kachina doll. (They know all about Wolf Pasakarnis, mentioned in a previous blog, and the subject of Suzanne's latest talk, Heart Gifts.) We did some research on it, and found that these dolls are carved from cottonwood root by Hopis to instruct young girls and new brides about katsinas, the immortal beings that bring rain, control other aspects of the natural world and society, and act as messengers between humans and the spirit world. They are also believed to be the spirits of deities, natural elements or animals, or the deceased ancestors of the Hopi. Prior to the kachina giving ceremony, Hopi men painstakingly make the dolls in the image of the spirit represented in that particular ceremony. The figures are presented by the Giver Kachina to the village's daughters, who then study the characteristics of that kachina as part of their ongoing tribal cultural education.

Now, more about one of my favorite characters here in The Villages. We were invited over for dinner with our good friends Joyce and Sharon, who share their home with two cats and Bongo, mentioned briefly in the paragraph above. Bongo is not the name of a drum, a chimpanzee or even a big wrestler. Rather it is the name of a three year old Sun Conure (Aratinga solstitialis) parakeet, seen here with Joyce. (I didn't appreciate Suzanne's comment, "Oh, look, Ty, Joyce is giving you the bird!")

Bongo is probably the coolest bird I have ever met. He has a strong voice (I'm being kind here.), and is assertive, bold and gentlemanly, and it appears that he doesn't take any guff from his two feline housemates, even though they are much larger than he. Fortunately, we arrived early, and were able to have some time with Bongo before he retired to his bedchamber for the evening.

Joyce and Sharon are lots of fun as well. We had a fabulous dinner, served on beautiful plates and platters that Sharon had made herself. We traded teacher and Navy tales, including one story of what Joyce suspected really went on in photography darkrooms when some of her students spent hours there working on school projects...  emerging with rumpled clothes and hair, but precious few prints. This photo was taken on our second night of dinners. I've broken the code on getting re-invited for dinner: you have a great time the first night, but forget to bring your camera, and then call up the next day saying, "Gee, could we just drop by for a few minutes around 5 PM and take some snapshots to recall what a great time we had?" Then when you drop by, you look really tired and hungry, and your gracious hosts feel sorry for you and say, "Want to stay for something to eat?" "Well, okay, if you insist..." (This ploy might not work three nights in a row, but it's definitely worth a try... let's see, "Hey, Joyce, Wal-Mart messed up my photos." "Ty, don't you use a digital camera?" "Oh...well, yeah, I guess you're right...is that what that little blue card is for?")

Two-Dog Night; "How Many Quarters...?" St. Petersburg; Green Sky; "I Need a New..."; The Bard; Post-Colonial Narcissism

I feel sorry for those of you who have not had the joy of sleeping with puppies. I say "puppies" even though our Rudy and Gretchen are now middle-aged dogs, because they are still puppies at heart, and puppy-sized as well. Even when Darkest Winter has descended upon The Villages, and temperatures hover around 30F for hours at a time, we can always rely on our puppies to keep us warm at night. Well, I can... since they both sleep on my side of the bed, pressed close against me for hours at a time. Every night is a Two-Dog Night in our house. And we sleep pretty soundly... usually... but occasionally our blissful slumber is disturbed. The other night, Rudy had a really bad itch... the bed was shaking with his scratching. It was like being in one of those no-tell motel massage beds back in the 70s. My Lovely Bride asked me sleepily, "How many quarters did you put in?" (We took poor Rudy to the vet the next morning where he was diagnosed with a recurring allergic reaction, and he's now on meds and on the road to recovery.)

On Monday we loaded up The Coach and headed down to St. Pete, where Suzanne was on a women's panel at First Unity of St. Petersburg, along with Rev. Temple Hayes, Michelle Phillips, Janet Connor, Simran Singh, and Thelma Petas. It was an... interesting... evening. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it. As for me, even though I am a Sensitive, New Age Kinda Guy, I felt a bit overwhelmed, being one of only a handful of males in the room with dozens of women baring their souls and discussing how they cope. Next time, I may opt for a meditative session at Starbucks.

I had hoped that on Tuesday morning,I would be able to do some fishing from the beach at Fort De Soto, where our campground was located. This park had been recommended by My Good Friend Bob, who had visited last year and said it was a delightful place. Bob did not tell me that you had to use a shoehorn to get your coach into the campsites, which are mostly designed for single-man tents. It was indeed beautiful, but the place was full of sand. Who knew?

Fort De Soto, named after Spanish explorer Hernando De Soto (dashing guy at right), was built by the US Army to guard the approaches to Tampa Bay, and as you can see, is rimmed by white sand beaches surrounded by turquoise-green shallows, reportedly teeming with fish asking to be caught and eaten. I had brought my fishing rod, knowing that this was my best chance in months to settle the score with the finned creatures that had mocked me during our summer trip out west. Alas, it was not to be; the fish were safe for another day...








Tuesday morning found us getting underway from our campground very early (like at sunrise) to beat a line of severe thunderstorms rapidly approaching from the Gulf of Mexico. How bad was it? Well, as I was sitting in the nice, dry coach driver's seat warming up the engine, Suzanne was outside on the two-way radio guiding the coach out of our extremely tight campsite ringed by overhanging trees. I heard her say, "The sky is turning green. It's getting blustery. Can we get this show on the road, please? I'm about to get drenched out here!" "Yes, Ma'am, we're movin' now!" She made it inside the car just before the trees began dancing in 40 mph gusts and the sky opened up. It was raining so hard the windshield wipers were complaining about being overworked.

Fortunately, we had planned on an early departure, and were able to find an uncrowded Waffle House for our favorite breakfast while the storm spent most of its fury. One of the servers at WH was complaining to one of her co-workers, "I ain't got nuthin'." Suzanne smiled at her and asked, "Do you have love?" The exchange continued... "What?" "Do you have love?" "Well, yes, I do." "Then you have everything you need." The lady's face then lit up with a big smile.

Husbands who have been happily married for a week or more will probably understand this story. The other day, My Lovely Bride was sitting at the dining room table where we have our computers, and was fiddling with her iPhone. Whatever she was doing was not going smoothly, and she was muttering under her breath. I recognized this as "Not a Good Sign". Visions of hundreds of dollar signs began running through my mind. And sure enough, I heard, "Darn phone... so old... can't keep up... music takes forever to load... will only hold 400 songs... camera won't work... FaceTime won't load... not enough memory... Ty, Sweetheart, I need a new phone; can we go to the phone store right now?" I was doomed. I suggested my usual solution of duct tape and a hammer, but she said that wasn't going to cut it. Like I have stated in previous blog posts, a husband's best course of action in cases like this is to (1) say, "Yes, Dear", (2) seek emergency assistance from a 20-something techie; (3) break out his wallet, and (4) throw handfuls of twenty dollar bills at the problem. It worked. My Lovely Bride now has a brand-new iPhone 5s with 16gb of memory (that's more than the entire computing power of the United States in 1961, the year she was born). It also has a fingerprint reader for security; no more Stone Age password required... and it has more apps than anyone over 50 could ever figure out, or need. I could get along with a simple cell phone for emergencies, but who would be caught with something so crude these days?


On the subject of culture, English majors, anyone who has read Shakespeare, parents, concerned citizens, and anyone interested in the decline of American culture may find this article interesting: http://www.city-journal.org/2014/24_1_urb-humanities.html. It describes how UCLA has removed their long-held requirement for English majors to study Shakespeare, Milton and Chaucer, in favor of more "relevant" subjects like gender, post-colonial, and disability studies. Junior faculty members apparently complained that Shakespeare was part of the "Empire". Also, they demanded more options for video-based learning, rather than asking students to read books. "Excuse me? Aren't students in college supposed to read books?" I may be a curmudgeon, but I can't help but think that the American education system is approaching a tipping point when "institutions of higher learning" don't require students to learn the fundamental underpinnings of Western civilization.





For more traditional readers, here are two quotes from the Bard of Avon:
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, because both are infinite."

"Time is very slow for those who wait
Very fast for those who are scared
Very long for those who lament
Very short for those who celebrate
But for those who love, time is eternal."

Fortunately, free access to Shakespeare's entire works are readily available on MIT's web site, far from The Left Coast, at http://shakespeare.mit.edu/. It's amazing to see that MIT engineers and scientists can appreciate Shakespeare far more than UCLA English professors...

Word of the day: Narcissism, excessive self-admiration and self-centeredness; a widespread abnormal psychological condition prevalent in American liberal arts academics in the late 20th and early 21st Centuries. There appears to be no cure other than removal of funding.

Soo-Shee! Sugar Rush; Salsa in the Groves; A Three Star Dinner; A Mohawk; "Uh-Oh"

My Lovely Bride has this thing for sushi. I think maybe in a previous life she was Japanese. Her excuse is that having lived in Japan for three years, she became addicted. She is almost uncontrollable when it comes to raw fish on rice. Not just any, everyday fish on rice, but very fresh, sushi-grade fish with a dab of wasabi on really good sushi-grade rice. She will tell you that sushi chefs take longer to learn to get the rice perfect than they do in getting the fish right.

As it happened, we were invited over to have a glass of wine before dinner with our good friends Catherine and Henri, who had also invited Michelle and Jim along. After arriving at our favorite sushi restaurant in North America, VKI Japanese Restaurant and Steak House in Sumter Landing, Suzanne explained that we don't even place an order anymore; the sushi chefs know what we want, and start preparing our sushi as soon as we walk in the door. Henri wasn't a fan of sushi, and opted for more familiar Teriyaki. Catherine, Michelle and Jim were brave newbies. Dinner arrived, and it appears that Catherine is enjoying hers, although it could be that she is about to try a hunk of wasabi the size of a pecan, which could cause this unwary diner to levitate off her seat and stop breathing for a few minutes. (Who would do something that silly?) Everyone seemed to enjoy their dinner, and perhaps we have converted three of our friends to sushi-lovers.


While we are on the subject of food (yes, it's a recurring theme here, particularly after my week in the desert eating freeze-dried lasagna), here is one of our favorite breakfasts that I make, French toast with strawberries and bacon. As shown here, Suzanne prefers hers with maple syrup and just a teeny-weeny dusting of confectioner's sugar. I prefer just a little syrup and a pound or so of sugar. Maybe that's why I'm a bit wired after breakfast, although 4 cups of coffee might intensify the sugar high...  ya think?








On Wednesday, we escaped the cold snap in The Villages and took The Coach south for an hour to Clermont, Florida, where we stayed a night at Lake Louisa State Park. (It's very similar to Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada, but the mountains aren't quite as high.) The park is big, and has several thousand orange trees scattered about. They were full of fruit, and as we mountain biked on very sandy trails through the woods and orange groves, I heard music. At first I doubted my auditory senses, but as we approached a pickup truck and trailer, the music got louder. It was Hispanic salsa, and was blaring at top volume from the truck's speakers. There were five or six workers hand-picking oranges from the trees and carrying laundry baskets full of fruit to the trailer behind the truck. I thought that these oranges would probably be showing up in my fridge within the week, transformed into OJ.


That day's bike ride was TOUGH. It's not that the trails were steep, but they were often 90% sand, and if you've never biked through deep sand, it's a chore. This perky trail rider is smiling now, but in a few moments was muttering "sailor words" as she struggled to keep up her speed when the grass turned to sand.









On Friday evening we were invited along with Bob and Jan to dinner at Gayle and Bill Hancock's new home in Bonnybrook. They extended and enclosed the lanai, added on three picture windows and a stone patio to the back of their house, which now has The Best View in The Villages. They are also sited right at the tee box, and fortunately haven't had any Close Encounters of the Golf Ball Kind.








Bill is a retired Navy 3-star admiral, and Gayle a long-suffering and supportive Navy wife who has as many, if not more, fun stories than her husband. We were in stitches as Gayle told us about being the only gaijin (foreign devil) riding on a train in Japan in the 70s, when she got off for a few moments at a stop, just to get a drink of water. All of a sudden, the train started to pull away unexpectedly. With her purse and passport about to disappear, Poor Gayle had to leap through a window onto the laps of several startled Japanese passengers, while muttering "Gomenesai!" (I'm so sorry!) It was a fun evening, and we even got to enjoy the Hancocks' hot tub. They got used to having one in Virginia and using it even when it snowed. Fortunately, the snows here were very light this week.... Gayle's gourmet dinner was fabulous, and Bill's sea stories (he was captain of a destroyer and cruiser before being selected for Admiral) reminded me of my exciting days at sea.



My Lovely Sister-in-Law Janice sent us a photo of her newly-rescued Dachshund, Tiki. She had just taken Tiki to the groomer, and asked that his Mohawk be retained. He is the Coolest Dog of the Week!















Finally, here's a story that should remind husbands of the importance of remembering dates. I was walking the puppies through our campground, and met a couple from Leesburg. He related that they had only been married since October 15th. His wife's head snapped around, and she said, "No, the 19th. I'll bet you remember your first wife's anniversary!" He replied defensively, "But Honey, we had been married for 40 years; we haven't even been married six months!!!"