Attractions, DFW Metroplex, Gardens, Real Estate Photography, Road Trips, TRAVEL, Travel Planning, United States

The Pandemic Blues

TRAVEL THERE: 2020 – A TRAVEL YEAR GONE AWRY

A Day at the Dallas Arboretum with timed entry and social distancing

When I got home from our great trip in Arizona, I actually had a year full of travel planned. In May I would travel to New York with my best friend and watch her son accept a diploma for his MFA from Pratt at Radio City Music Hall. I have another friend there I wanted to catch up with and we had lots of museums we hoped to see. Bestie and I were also planning to go to Ohio in August for her 50th High School Reunion. We were hoping to make it a road trip and squeeze in a few sights we hadn’t been able to see the last time we headed that way. Bill and I had plans to visit California to visit family and friends there, because we’d been offered one of those deals that you can’t resist. It didn’t happen.

What Did Happen

My husband and I have been very fortunate during this pandemic. Our health has been excellent and while we have mourned with many friends over their losses, no one in our inner circle of closest friends and family were lost or even suffered greatly from Covid. Sometimes they were inconvenienced by quarantine. Some because of exposure with no diagnosis, some with a positive test but no symptoms and a few who did experience mild symptoms.

Bill was more conscientious about following the protocols than I was. During the first days of the pandemic, I was locked down. He wouldn’t let me out of the house unless he was with me to be sure I followed every suggestion he gleaned from his intensive research. The real estate community was in a panic, so he was out every day, shooting listing photos, videos and drone shots, but he took elaborate measure with himself and our equipment. I wasn’t even allowed to help him unload the car, because everything, including him, had to be sanitized.

On another Arboretum visit Bestie Deborah visits with a faux gardener, another timed, masked and social distanced event.

My bestie kept me sane. We’d take walks, watch TV together or just do some scrapbooking, anything to give me a feeling of normalcy, while Bill monitored our plans to be sure we weren’t participating in any restricted activities, like shopping or eating out. Our first “normal” activity was church, but there wasn’t anything normal about it – no hugs and our seating had been rearranged so that we were properly social distanced, but it was better than watching it on TV.

Like everyone else, we watched the waves of infection. Some people used the downtime for travel, but Bill was having none of that. In our house, he felt as if he could maintain some kind of control over our circumstances. He had no hope of that in a plane or on the road. For awhile, I maintained hope that we might be able to take the trip out to California. I even planned out a road trip itinerary. Unfortunately, I ran into roadblocks. The Navajo nation closed themselves down, which took out most of my road trip plans. It also became apparent that if we were going to travel, California was the worst place to go, because they were virtually shut down. I planned that trip two different ways and didn’t get to use either itinerary.

Our day trip to the Fort Worth Stockyards via the Grapevine Railrooad

Then things got worse in almost every way possible. The whole election mess was a real downer and as Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled around, so did a greater number of Covid cases. I entertained myself with planning a holiday road trip, even made all the reservations, but that didn’t work out either. So I settled for a staycation, complete with local museums, a carriage ride through a well-decorated neighborhood and a day trip train excursion. More about that later.

What’s Coming Up!

I did enjoy a few short excursions during the year, so I will share a few of those with you before moving on to 2021. Then I’ll tell you about an idea I dreamed up on vacation and executed in the early days of 2021, which has little to do with travel, but a lot to do with scrapbooking, my other passion.

Being a senior citizen, I’ve gotten my first vaccination and have the second one scheduled next week, but that’s not going to make the pandemic restrictions go away immediately. So, there’s a trip I’ve never shared here – it happened before I started blogging – and I am going to pass it along here. However, it’s a bit of a departure from my usual blog. It’s a play I wrote based on a very difficult trip Bill and I took in the early days of our marriage, inspired in part by Greater Tuna. I’ll share it with you serial style and you should get a big kick form it. The travel frustrations I’ve shared here before can’t hold a candle to that trip. So stay tuned. Even though I haven’t traveled anywhere since February 2020, I have adventures to share.

DESTINATIONS, Road Trips, TRAVEL, United States

Getting Our Arizona Fun on Early

Love Field, Southwest Airlines
Early Risers

TRAVEL THERE:  UP WITH THE CHICKENS

So, remember how Southwest Airlines sent me an email with cheap airfare.  To get to our destination with the cheapest fares, we either had to be on a plane at 6 AM or virtually lose the first day to travel.  So, I convinced Bill Arizona was worth getting up for.  Here’s how it went.

There’s Early and Then There’s Really Early

The alarm went off at 2:15 AM.  I rolled out of bed.  Bill rolled out at 2:40.  By 3:15 AM the car was backing out of the garage.  No, it was not fun, but we were determined to make the best of it.

At Love Field, since it was raining, Bill unloaded me and the luggage at the terminal and went off to find parking.  I dragged the luggage into the terminal and stood by it, praying to the travel gods that Bill would navigate the parking lot and get back to me.  Parking lots are not his favorite thing in the world and I didn’t want to start the trip off on the wrong foot.

He returned and we set about trying to figure out what was next.  When you’re flying, there’s always a bunch of people who seem to know exactly what they are doing.  This is particularly true in a Southwest terminal.  Their customers are more like a cult than anything else.  I was frantically trying to read every sign I could see and Bill was watching the crowd.  We sort of captured the rhythm of the system and ended up in front of one of the ticketing machines.

We failed miserably.  The self-help machine treated us just like the infrequent, senior-citizen, not-Southwest flyers that we are.  Somehow we managed to press the right buttons to find our reservations and get our luggage tags, but we didn’t end up with boarding passes.

A Southwest employee quickly identified us as inept and came to our rescue.  With boarding passes she procured, we were able to progress to the bag check.  That’s when we discovered my other ooops.  I had attached both luggage bags to one bag and none to the other.  It was more than early.  It was really early!

Still, this trip made me fall back in love with Southwest, though we hadn’t flown them in years.  Thanks to their liberal baggage limits, we were able to check all three bags, rather than trot around dragging a carry-on.  I had everything I needed for being in transit in a small backpack.   I felt like screaming, “Free at last.  Free at last.”

What Bill really thought about waking up so early

Getting There

In truth, I think we could have slept for another hour, but we didn’t realize that.  For years we’ve been fighting the battle out a DFW.  Southwest can’t get you to the Mediterranean, Egypt and the Danube and international has been our focus for years.  Besides, it’ only been in recent years that Southwest was freed from the Wright Amendment, making flying them from Dallas a better proposition.  I think Southwest will be seeing a whole lot more of us, especially since we’re abandoning the International scene for a while, to catch up on some American destinations.

The flight was blissfully uneventful and arrived on time.  We made our way to the rental shuttle and were delivered to the Alamo facility.  That’s when our luck really kicked in.  There on the appointed row, among Hyundais, and Toyotas stood a Jeep – a Jeep with four while drive! He went back to the attendant and confirmed the Jeep was truly one of our options.

We just knew this was going to be a magical trip.  Sure we’d had to get up early, it was raining in Dallas and we’d had a little trouble at the ticket kiosk, but even with those little hiccups we’d had smooth sailing and we had no reason to think it would change.  One of my blogging friends accuses me of making up our little dramas to make my blogs sound more exciting.  Well, we’ll see, because this trip was breeze – not a single headache to report.  I hope you enjoy it as much as we did.

Come back next week and we’ll have breakfast in one of the Phoenix area’s top ten breakfast spots.

DESTINATIONS, International, TRAVEL, Travel Planning

Load ‘Em Up, Head ‘Em Out

Bill and Deb with the nearly checked carry-on

TRAVEL THERE: ON OUR WAY TO ROME

It was time.  We threw our luggage in the car and picked up Deborah with her bags.  We left our car at Park and Fly, rode their bus to the terminal and went through security.  By 9:50 AM we were at our gate for our 11:45 flight to Montreal.  The Anniversary Cruise was really going to happen.

Small Drama at the Gate

I’d never flown Air Canada, so I started off with a clean slate, but it didn’t stay clean for very long.  I sat at the gate with my bestie, while Bill did his usual ramble around the terminal.  I had the new carry-on bags next to me and for a few moments I didn’t have a worry in the world.

Then an airline employee strolled down to where we were sitting and informed me I would have to check one of my carry-ons.  I went into an immediate panic.  The only thing in the carry-ons were our clothes for the vow renewal ceremony.  I knew, should my luggage get lost, I could buy a couple of sundresses and get by, but I couldn’t replace my gown or Bill’s tuxedo.  This whole trip was for the ceremony and I wasn’t going to allow it to be ruined by lost baggage.

I have no idea why this woman picked me out of all the people at the gate.  One carry-on was slightly larger than the other, but the bigger one was regulation and the other even smaller.  Maybe, because it was purple.  Maybe, because I just looked too happy for the surly employee to tolerate.  Darn, I hated to have my travel day ruined so early into the trip.

I decided I was not going to argue with this lady.  I was going to delegate it to Bill.  I told her the bag she indicated was my husband’s and she’d need to talk to him about it.  She made some snarky comment and waddled back to her position behind the counter.  I worked a few more crossword puzzles and waited for Bill to return.

When he strolled up, I pulled him aside and informed him of the situation.  I warned him I would go into full melt-down mode if that lady took away my bag.  I reminded him we had a layover in Montreal, so that was fertile ground for a lost bag.  Later in the trip I would know just how true that statement was, but for now, I was just speculating.

Bill went and talked to the lady.  He fit the bag into that metal contraption that is supposed to identify over-large bags.  The lady should have apologized for upsetting me, but instead she threatened Bill with the flight crew, warning him they would take the bag away when it did not fit.  What was this lady’s problem?

Quick Lunch and a Flight

We needed to grab a meal before we flew.  Deb and Bill opted for Chikfila, but I chose to spend my travel calories on a soft pretzel.  I love them dearly and doing battle with the mean lady had worked up and appetite.

The flight was uneventful.  It was a small commuter aircraft, but the carry-on in question fit up in the overhead bin, just like it was supposed to do.  The whole luggage bit was just unnecessary drama, thank you very much.

Next stop Montreal!  Rome here we come!

 

Accommodations, DESTINATIONS, International, TRAVEL, Travel Planning

Forty Pounds?

brown leather duffel bag
Photo by nappy on Pexels.com

TRAVEL THERE: A $120 LESSON FROM SPIRIT AIRLINES

So, on a Monday morning in May, I woke up with the knowledge that I was going to Club Med Punta Cana at the end of the week – the trip we had won from CTC Travel.  I had no idea whatsoever of what I was taking with me.

The Resort Life

I am the Museum Girl, not the Resort Girl.  I know what to take on cruises.  I’m great at packing for a road trip.  However, I didn’t know what to take to a resort, because that hadn’t been my life up to that point.

So I imagined a really casual five-day cruise without any ports of call and no dressing for dinner.  My wardrobe began to form in my head.  Swimsuits, sundresses and shorts.  I scratched my head a little more and tried to dream up every eventuality.  Maybe I’d need jeans?  What about some slacks?  I stood around in my closet gathering up things I might need.  Something to sleep in, lingerie, sandals, sneakers.  The items began to pile up.  In the end I took a lot more than I needed, because I just didn’t know.

The Baggage Thing

So, if you travel at all, you know what Spirit is famous for – no frills, but a fee for everything.  I looked online for all of Spirit’s baggage fees and thought I was pretty clever.  I was sure we’d be able to get by without the additional cost of carry-ons, because I’d managed to fit us into one suitcase for five days for our cruise.  Of course, since we drove to Galveston, the weight didn’t matter, but I was certain I could fit everything into two suitcases – and I did.

We weighed the suitcases with our handy dandy suitcase scale and put the them next to the door.  The alarm would be going off at 3:30 AM the next morning, because our flight was at the ungodly hour of 6 AM.

The Other Baggage Thing

We parked our car at Park & Fly, like we always do, and were delivered to our terminal.  As we stood near the Spirit Airlines acclimating ourselves to their procedures, a very nice lady came up to us and offered to help.  She was happy to see the confirmations proving we had checked in online.  Then she grabbed a bag and set it on their scale.  I didn’t have a worry in the world.  Both bags were under 50 pounds – the magic airline weight limit.  Or at least that had been the magic airline weight limit the last time I had flown on a real airline.

I should have worried.  The weight of our bags brought a frown to our friendly helper’s face, but it was nothing compared to the one on my husband’s face.  We were going to have to pay an additional $30 per bag each way.  $120!!  The weight limit for Spirit Airlines is 40 pounds!

My stomach dropped to somewhere near my shoes.  We’ve had vacations ruined for less than $120 in unexpected fees.  Bill is no fan of traveling and he hates fees – they’re like paying interest, only much more careless. I waited for my dressing down, but it never came.  We’d both been looking at the Spirit website for days.  I’d emailed him a reminder of the permitted size of his personal item.  We’d both weighed the suitcases.  He wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t in trouble.

We finished getting our boarding passes and got in line to begrudgingly pay our first round of $60 baggage fees.  (BTW, CTC was in no way responsible for our frustration at the gate.  They didn’t book our air and I didn’t ask them about luggage fees!)  There was a wait by the gate and then we climbed on board Spirit Airlines.  Come fly with us next week.

DESTINATIONS, DFW Metroplex, International, Road Trips, TRAVEL

It’s Time to Go

TRAVEL THERE: HEADING HOME IS ALWAYS GOOD

Just a few hours and Egypt will be in our rear view mirror.

Final Moments

When we left Mokattum Mountain, Izzat dropped us off in Bill’s sister’s neighborhood.  Mona had made one of her feasts for us to enjoy when we dropped by to say farewell.  We had a sweet visit with her and then it was time to go.

Somewhere along the way on that final day, I managed to leave my hat behind.  Perhaps it was in the Uber vehicle we took to get back to the Fairmont.  I sincerely regret that, because it had been a loyal servant on the Danube cruise and on this trip.  I’ve missed having it for several trips since.  I also donated my prescription sunglasses to the country earlier in the trip.

I’ve already shared the frustration of our last night at the Fairmont, so no need to revisit that.  Izzat was there the next morning to take us to the airport.  I felt like I was saying good-bye to an old friend.

At the airport, some of the towel-clad pilgrims we’d seen on our arrival were also departing Egypt.  I’m not sure what the trip was supposed to imbue them with, but love and respect for their wives doesn’t seem to be one of results.  I watched a man and a boy in their white terrycloth outfits stand to the side with their arms folded as their mother/wife pulled huge suitcases, too large for her to handle, from the security table to a cart and then struggle again to get the cart going in the right direction.

I would have sent Bill to help her, but he was already on a mission of his own.  A group of giggling ladies in pilgrim caftans and hajibs needed his help with the elevator.  They’d never been on as escalator or an elevator.  They were terrified of the escalator, but baffled with the controls of the elevator.  I was proud of him for helping them, but wished he could have embarrassed the towel-clad men by assisting the floundering woman.  The pair had looked so smug.

Traveling Companions

Miriam and Bassem were taking the same flight as we did to the States.  Bassem wanted back-up in case Mariam had any trouble in Customs.  We breezed through the London airport with no trouble at all.  At DFW, US Passport Control did bring Mariam in for a short interview, but it was very cursory.  Then they grabbed a rental car, because no one sedan was going to hold all the luggage for four people, especially when one of them was moving here.

And then we were home.  My bestie had kept my cat for me, so we were eager to go claim her.  Mariam and Bassem stayed with us a few days, because Bassem had only bought tickets back to Dallas, not on to LA.  Too soon they’d made arrangements to go home and we were all alone – just us and the cat.

It was quiet and a bit lonely after so many days around our dear family members.  It was a little boring too, after three weeks of activity.  It had been a great trip and like all good trips it had changed me.  I had stronger ties with my nieces and nephews and their children.  I’d overcome my fears and traveled to places the US State Department said I should stay away from.  I’d been in one of the poorest neighborhoods I’d ever visited and discovered that its inhabitants were more joyful and thankful than my affluent neighbors in my golf course community. We will probably never travel to Egypt again, but that’s OK, because now Egypt is in my heart.

DESTINATIONS, DFW Metroplex, TRAVEL

Lakeside Baptist Church – My Other Family

Mom and I with Eddie Jo, one of Mom's dear Lakeside friends.
Mom and I with Eddie Jo, one of Mom’s dear Lakeside friends.

TRAVEL BUG TALES: KIN BY THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB

As I’ve chatted about beaches, I’ve also mentioned Mrs. Lide.  Mom and Mrs. Lide were besties.  I get that, because I have a bestie.  But having a bestie doesn’t short circuit the ability to have other very, very good friends.  My mom taught me that and I am grateful.  I feel sorry for people who are so wrapped up in one another there’s no room for the rest of the world – whether the other is a spouse, a best friend or a relative.  When we moved to Texas, Mom lost her close daily contact with Mrs. Lide, but it didn’t cripple her.  She just set about filling her life with other wonderful people.  No one ever replaced Mrs. Lide in her heart, but the fun she shared made for a great life. 

From the Archives!  The Caves had attended for 20 of these years and my sister is still there these 30 years later!
From the Archives! The Caves had attended for 20 of these years and my sister is still there 30 years later!

The Lakeside Connection

When we moved to Dallas, one of the first things Mom did was take us church shopping, but it was a short trip.  We visited the Baptist Church closest to us, but it didn’t pass the Ruth test.  Nothing wrong with it, beyond the fact that it wasn’t what Mom was looking for.  The next Sunday we ventured a little further down Garland Road to Lakeside Baptist Church.  Mom hitched her wagon to Lakeside and she was set for the rest of her life.

Back in those days, the Baptist Sunday Schools were divided up by age and marital status and there was no getting around it. Nowadays they call them Life Groups and the age/marital status rule is not so hard and fast.   Mom landed in a group of ladies called the Grace Class.  They did life together for decades.  They prayed for one another when there were problems and sickness.  A death brought out casseroles and potted plants. If one of my parents were in the hospital for an operation, the entire waiting room filled up with Lakesiders.  I can’t begin to tell you how much I loved those people or how much they loved me.

As a side note, my dad was a Sunday School Rebel.  The wives and the husbands of my parents’ classes would meet together for a general assembly each week, to sing a few hymns, make announcements and pray together.  Then they’d divide up into several smaller, sexually-segregated groups to study the lesson in their quarterly.  Dad’s biblical curiosity dug deeper than the quarterly, so when a Bible scholar started a survey class, open to both men and women, Dad defected.  Mom didn’t approve.  She called the Bible Survey Class members kooks and weirdos. To hear her tell it, you’d think Jesus Christ Himself had ordained the Baptist Adult Quarterly.

A peek at Mom's Sunday School Class
A peek at Mom’s Sunday School Class

The 42 Group

By some sort of natural selection,  several of the Lakeside couples started a group which played 42 together once a month.  This started as a simple game of dominoes with a few snacks, but it didn’t stay that way.  It quickly morphed into elaborate table decorations and a three-course meal before the dominoes came out.

My Dad, the Sunday School Rebel, didn’t approve of the ordeal which this simple monthly game of dominoes turned into.  Probably none of the men did, but the women were in their glory.  To them, the annual assignment of homes for the get-togethers was more important than the Paris Peace Talks.  Popular assignments were February and October, because Valentines and Autumn Leaves were easy party themes.  Ending up with December was a fate worse than death.  Being the December hostess meant you had to decide which restaurant would win the honor of hosting the Christmas gala and you had to be sure your Christmas decor bested the previous year’s display.

There were unspoken, elaborate rules attached to the monthly game and as my parents aged the rules evolved.  Choosing a replacement couple for someone who was unable to attend in a given month was a monumental task, carefully discussed during multiple phone conversations.  The ladies also discussed how put upon they were by the necessity of finding another couple.  Hadn’t they been having this game on the second Friday night of the month for a long time?  How could the missing couple dare to put everyone through this ordeal?

Then there was the first couple to quit for medical reasons.  I heard much discussion about whether that had been a decision of necessity or convenience.  Another milestone was the first death.  Should widows be allowed to continue and who would serve as partners?  Every season of life brought its own challenges to the 42 Group and finally an end.

Most comical to me was the ride sharing.  As these dear ones aged, some of them weren’t getting around so well.  To complicate matters, while the group had started out in a close knit geographical area, over the years some of the couples moved.  The result was a flurry of monthly phone calls about who was going to ride with whom – and more than a few discussions about why anyone would move out of East Dallas.

Memories of these dear ones bring me both laughter and tears.  It seems impossible, but I couldn’t find a single shot of the 42 Group among Mom’s photos.  There were plenty of her friends from that monthly domino game and I have so many memories, but no photos.  So, you’ll have to use your imagination.

Come back next week and we’ll go to Padre Island with one of the 42 couples.

ART, DESTINATIONS, DFW Metroplex, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

Hanging Out at DFW

TRAVEL HERE: INTERNATIONAL DEPARTURES AT DFW

20160414_143617I’m not exactly a fan of DFW, but if I have to go out there I hope I’m flying out of terminal D.  For one thing, that means I might be going out of the country, which is always good news to me.  For the other, it is by far the best terminal from which to depart.

New and Improved Travelers

There was a time when my husband tried to push the travel envelope to the very edge.  He wanted to find out just how close he could cut it.  It seemed every trip we were the passengers breathlessly running aboard as they closed the door.  Unfortunately, I had been raised by a father who considered earliness to be next to godliness.  That race for the plane thrilled my excitement junkie hubby, but I would go into pure panic mode.

Over the years we’ve both mellowed out.  This is a good thing, since these days, travel is a very different endeavor from what it was twenty years ago.  Anybody pulling a last minute maneuver, like some we did back in the day, would find themselves cooling their heels in some TSA holding space.

Nowadays we get to the airport with hours to spare.  We treat the terminal like a tourist attraction, tasting the local treats and checking out the souvenirs.

A Plug for Park &’N Fly

When we fly, our car is parked at the Park ‘N Fly facility on Park Lane.  We drive in.  A bus pulls up and a nice driver pops out to help us with our bags.  Frequently we are driven directly to our terminal, but even at busy times we get from our car to our gate lickety split.  The nice driver offloads your bags and you’re almost done.

Over the last year, we joined Costco and guess what!  Park ‘N Fly, which is already a bargain at full price, has discounted rates with Costco coupons.  You buy 5 day blocks of tickets for $35 and we’re talking discounted.  The price is so cheap that we saved money with the coupons even though we had to buy and extra day.  The coupon never expires, so we’ll jut hold on to it until the next trip – maybe the one we’ll make to visit our new friends in Oregon we met aboard the Viking Tor.

Our driver for this trip may just be the most charming we’ve ever had.  He was filled with the joy of his salvation and was listening to a sermon on his sound system.  He politely asked if that was OK with us, but we just amen-ed with him and said a few hallelujahs.  He asked where we were headed and when he found out about our cruise on the Danube he really wanted to go along.

Hurry Up and Wait

At the Lufthansa check-in we stared down the kiosk and tried to determine which number or piece of paper it preferred, but we were grateful when someone came to assist us with the check-in, especially since I had already theoretically done that online.  It seems to me that all this digital stuff just makes more work.  Used to be you called up your travel agent to buy your fare, got a hard copy ticket, took it to the desk and were checked in.  Now you dabble online to find a ticket, get a virtual ticket, check-in online, get a virtual boarding pass, fritz with the kiosk at the airport, get pieces of paper and still have to report to a live agent to check-in your bags. Convenience, schamenience!

The line for the TSA security check was not too bad and then we were in, with a couple of hours left to kill.  I had visions of sitting down over a good meal at Cafe Izmir, Cool River Cafe, III Forks or Sky Canyon.  Then I made the mistake of allowing Bill to see the directory of restaurants and ended up at Popeye’s.  You may think I’m kidding, but it’s the truth.  Bill loves Popeye’s and since we’re usually trying to eat healthy we stay away.  With all food being calorie free on vacations (wink wink) he wanted to get some.

20160414_143058Murdering Time

After our chicken we roamed the terminal and looked at all the places we could have eaten and checked out the shops.  Along the way we saw some interesting art installations spread throughout the space.  We really began to feel like tourists.  Many of the most beautiful installations were mosaics on the floor which photograph poorly.  We also found this interesting public interactive.

We decided it was getting close enough to departure time that we should get to our gate.  They’d decided to start boarding early to beat some turbulence, so getting there early had been a good thing.

If you’re coming through Dallas or leaving from our airport, I hope you’ll get to enjoy Terminal D.  If not, you’re stuck with the usual.  Maybe if you’re stuck there long enough on a layover you could take the train over to D and dine in style.

On Wednesdays I’m sharing my Viking River Cruise, the reason we were at the airport in the first place.  Please check back and share the adventure.

 

ART, DESTINATIONS, Performing Arts, Road Trips, TRAVEL, United States

A Ride to Houston in a Red Convertible

BPS02202016_0003
An on-stage extra, portraying an on-screen extra

TRAVEL BUG TALES: MY DAYS IN THE NFL

FYI, in my life, NFL stands for National Forensic League, not a sports league.  They don’t call it that anymore, but it sounds so much more interesting the way I remember it, than the way they have improved it. Unfortunately,  I find that to be true about more and more this day and time.  A few days ago I blogged about a speech tournament I judged and it brought back memories of my days in the NFL.  I thought I’d tell you about them.

Stairway Way to Paradise

I was unaware of it when I was in high school, (as far as I know the term hadn’t been coined) but I was a nerd.  Chances are my mother realized it, with or without the appellation, and that’s why she encouraged me to participate in pretty much anything that would get my nose out of a book.  One of my high school adventures was the Cothurnus Club, Bryan Adams’ drama club.  According to Dictionary.com, “cothurnus” is “a grave and elevated style of acting.”  I’m afraid there was nothing grave or elevated about our productions, but that was the name.

In my sophomore year, I had a couple of bit parts in a production called Stairway to Paradise.  One part actually involved a few lines, but the other  was more fun.  I played an on-stage extra, portraying an on-screen extra.  As such, I got the opportunity to spend most of my time dressed in the costume of a Southern Belle.

In spite of both parts, I spent most of the time hanging about backstage with the speech and drama students who recruited me into the NFL.  They also talked me into signing up for speech in my junior year, because then I could join the gang on a phenomena called speech tournaments.

The Red Convertible

Fast forward to October of my Junior year.  I was in speech 101 and I somehow convinced my parents attending a speech tournament was exactly the right thing for me to do at that point of my life.  I’d talked them into sending me on a mission trip over the summer and I had come home in one piece, so I was on a roll.

1972_Chevrolet_Impala_ConvertibleWhat was even more amazing to me was Jimmy Jordan had invited me to ride to Houston with him.  Jimmy was my favorite person in the speech department. Jimmy was not a football hero or my latest crush.  He was just my friend, Jimmy Jordan, but he was very groovy.(Groovy was “sick” or “the bomb” back in the days before words became synonymous with their antonym.)  He had a red Chevy convertible with white interior, which I thought was the coolest car I’d ever seen.  (At least it was the coolest car I’d ever seen since that Jaguar XKE at the 1966 State Fair – but that’s another story for another day.)

On the day in question, I threw my suitcase in the trunk of Jimmy Jordan’s car, along with his other passengers’ belongings, and we took off with the sun shining and and our hair blowing in the wind.  We got to the University of Houston early enough to drive around the campus and  feel very groovy.    The signature song of the trip was Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” and it seems the disc jockeys were playing it several times an hour.  Or maybe it just seemed that way, because the other hit at the time was The Isley Brothers song, “Brother, Brother, Brother” and the word “brother” got a lot of play in in both songs.  Serendipitously, Marvin Gaye was crooning as we cruised the campus – one of my all-time favorite memories.

My Life as a Compulsive Big Mouth

That’s not a confession of some sort.  That’s the name of the speech-to-entertain I had prepared for the tournament.  I recall a few moments of dread as I was called up to give the speech and the immense relief I felt when it was over.  To my amazement, I made it to the next level of competition.  Another of my all-time favorite memories.  Pretty much everyone from our school made it to the semi-finals.  I was thrilled to be among them.

And Then There Was Galveston…

After a fast food dinner at Prince’s Drive-in (which was supposed to be the “it” place), we returned to our Ramada Inn and got a pep talk from our speech coach.  She was fresh out of college and proud to bursting that all her little fledglings were not only accounted for, but also in the semi-finals on the following day.  Our teen-aged bodies were casually draped across the whimsical components of the motel’s playground, as we listened to her schpiel.  I wish someone had taken a picture, but we didn’t do as much of that in the days before smartphones.  Taking a picture back then entailed posing.

Her final words to us were, “and don’t any of you dare to go to Galveston.”  Up until that very moment I sincerely believe not a single soul had even thought of the fact the beach was just a little bit down the road.  We were completely enthralled with being away from home without our parents and hanging out on a college campus.  We were also amazed that all our rehearsal time had paid off and we were all semi-finalists in the tournament.

However, the moment the word “Galveston” was out of her mouth, we had to go.  I forget the logistics of the episode, but soon the red convertible was making it’s way to Galveston.  By the time we got there, we’d all run out of adrenaline.  Jimmy parked his car, we scampered on the beach for a few moments and then didn’t know what else to do.  So we hopped back in the convertible and rode back to the Ramada Inn.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Speech Coach Scorned

Today, there would have been a whole lot of texting going on.  By the time we made it back, there would have been a gaggle of angry parents, ready to snatch their darlings back to Dallas – all the more angry at money spent on airfare.  We might even have made the news or at least been included in an Amber Alert.  In the glorious days before smartphones, all that waited for us was one very mad speech coach.  Had our escapades become known, she would have probably lost her job, but thanks to the lack of smartphones, that didn’t happen either.

Come to find out, we probably hadn’t gotten all the way out of the parking lot before one of the girls went and ratted on us.  For the record, she’d been invited on the spontaneous road trip, but she had decided she didn’t want to join us.  When she turned us down, she’d claimed she needed to work on her presentation. After we returned there was a tearful episode where she testified of a sincere concern for our welfare, but we all knew she was just another brown-nosing snitch.

We were royally dressed down andwe regretted upsetting the coach, but we hadn’t intended any harm.  We were just teenagers – teenagers who needed their sleep.  Most of the presenters who are listed in the final paragraph of the article below were probably in on the escapade (I was Jane Cave in that phase of my life).  Bryan Adams ended up fifth in the tournament, but with talent like we had and a little more sleep, we might have brought home the gold.

My Forensic Career Winds Down

I was not among the talented.  Though I would end up talking for a living, I wasn’t so good at speech tournaments.  The only other tournament I attended was something called a Mock Legislature.  We went up to Denton and were supposed to be debating issues and operating committees like they do in Washington.  I confess I didn’t really understand what was going on, so I spent most of my time flirting with the competition.

We did host a speech tournament at Bryan Adams and I remember thoroughly enjoying the experience.  We had all been forgiven by then and showed our ability to handle responsibility by planning and executing a very successful tournament.  I think my job was to man the concession stand – another career foreshadowing activity.

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DESTINATIONS, DFW Metroplex, Restaurants & Bars, Road Trips, TRAVEL

Al-Amir for Whatever Ails You

Belly Dancer, Al-Amir Lebanese Restaurant, Dallas TX
Al-Amir gets you back in the swing of things.

TRAVEL HERE: AL AMIR LEBANESE RESTAURANT IN ADDISON

I didn’t have on my happy face. My mom wasn’t doing well, so I wasn’t either. Then hubby took me out for dinner.

First, on my list of choices would have been some patio margarita time, but let’s face it, one hundred plus temperatures make patios miserable, even if there are misting fans.

Coupon Therapy

I dug through my coupons and found one to Al-Amir Lebanese Restaurant.  It had been on our short list for awhile, so it seemed like the time to go had come.  We arrived around eight o’clock on a Friday night and the place was almost empty.  I had a serious case of uh-oh, but we were there, so we took our chances.  Rule number one:  Don’t get in too big of a hurry to get there.

Rule number two:  Don’t sit in the non- smoking area.  The restaurant as a whole was sparsely populated when we arrived, but the non-smoking section was an arid wasteland.  Besides, a quick look around told us we weren’t talking cigarette smoke.  The folks in the smoking section were enjoying hookahs.

The hostess was happy to lead us to another table and gave us menus. The waiter arrived promptly and suggested I try a Lebanese wine.  I almost ordered it out of curiosity, but decided to ask questions instead.  I found out the Lebanese wine was rose’ and opted for a Sauvignon Blanc.

I’d barely begun to read the menu when Bill announced he was going for the beef kafta kabob. Now kafta, whether you call it koofta, kefta, kufta or kafta is one of my favorite Middle Eastern dishes. I could have gone ahead and ordered the same thing, but I hate to be redundant, so I kept looking.  I almost gave up finding an alternate dish when way down, almost at the bottom of the right side of the menu, I saw a Vegetarian Plate.  Now I’m not a vegetarian, but I love me some vegetables, so I was a happy camper.

The Decor

As we waited for our food, I looked around at the decor.  Sometime in my past, like in the late eighties or the early nineties, this was a happening watering hole.  I kept trying to remember what it was called, way back then when all my shoes were dancing shoes, but I never figured it out.  Maybe you can remind me.  Whatever it was, many remnants remain, like the gorgeous wooden bar and the dance floor with it’s dj booth.  The Middle Eastern theme is a thin veneer over whatever it is that the restaurant used to be.  (A prize to whoever remembers!)

Had I been converting the restaurant, I would have taken the re-do a few steps further.  The ski-lodge-like skylights, in the corners of the room seriously detract from the Middle Eastern vibe – but that’s me.  They do have a patio, but no one was out there.  I may not dig the ski lodge skylights, but do love their art.  They have these wonderful paintings, probably acrylic, of just female eyes.  Deep, wide, gorgeous eyes peek between scarves and actual beading enhances the scarves. Very lovely.

The Meal

Then the food came.  OMG!! I was so was glad Bill got the kebob.  Otherwise, I might have missed the tender cauliflower, lightly dusted on top with breading and then deep fried.  Melt in your mouth eggplant seasoned to the perfect kick. Golden brown potato cubes, crunchy on the outside, soft all the way through.  Even their rice was extraordinary.  There were some pickled this-and-thats I didn’t eat, but I was full!

Things were very quiet at our table while we ate, which meant Bill’s food was delicious, also.  I did see him tucking into a broiled tomato that looked to die for.  After the meal we peeked at our coupon and realized we needed to spend more money to take advantage of it, so we got dessert and a hookah.  No, I didn’t hookah – that’s Bill’s thing.

The dessert was OK.  I can’t eat all those Middle Eastern desserts.  They are way too sweet.  One bite of baklava and my teeth hurt.  So we opted for cheese cake.  It was good cheesecake, not spectacular or extraordinary, but nothing wrong with it either.  As I nibbled around on it, Bill enjoyed his hookah.

The Belly Dancing

Rule number three: Linger.  As we enjoyed our special endings to the meal, we looked around and the restaurant was crowded.  The background music went up several notches and a belly dancer came out to entertain us.  The audience was riveted.  Little girls came up to give it a try, as well as twenty-somethings – and the guys?  Well, for a little while each of them fell momentarily in love.

Shortly thereafter it was time to go home.  I’d been lucky. The phone hadn’t rung and after a hard week, I was wrung out.  Should you go to Al-Amir?  Absolutely!  But don’t forget the rules!

DESTINATIONS, DFW Metroplex, Road Trips, TRAVEL, Travel Planning

The Lemonade Tour

TRAVEL THERE: THE LEMONADE TOUR

When life give you lemons, make lemonade. It’s good advice, even if I have no idea where it came from.

The Lemon

My dear friend, Deb, had a real lemon to tackle. She wanted to bury her father’s ashes with her mom in Ohio and she needed to stop by a small town in Missouri to finish some business for him.She’s a pretty tough cookie and probably could have handled it all on her own, but there was no way I was going to let her.

Lemon Turned into Lemonade with Friendship

Originally, we thought it could be a quick weekend trip, but then she found out that a weekend interment would be prohibitively expensive, so we had to be there on a weekday.  We juggled dates and decided to take off on the Wednesday before Memorial Day.  We also decided to add a few days of fun at the end of the trip.  We’d both lost our fathers during the past year and needed to turn the page.

Another familiar old saw that frequently proves true for me is that life is what happens when you’re out making other plans.  I started planning a great trip for us that focused on her art student son, who was supposed to travel with us.  Knowing Memorial Day weekend is a big travel weekend, I went ahead and booked our accommodations and  bought tickets to a few of our “must-see” attractions.  Then two things happened, her son realized he’d already made a commitment for that weekend and my mom fell and broke her arm.  Breaking an arm isn’t that big of a thing, unless you’re eighty-five years old, you break it where she broke it and it’s the arm you use with your cane.  Though we never actually discussed it, both Deb and I knew I couldn’t leave if I couldn’t get Mom squared away.

By some miracle (Well, probably more like a series of miracles), on May 22nd at about seven AM, Deb was in my drive way and we were loading my bags in her car.  Thank you to all the family and friends who made it possible for us to go on The Lemonade Tour.  Thanks to all the prayer warriors who kept angels watching over us through out the trip.  Thanks to our husbands who didn’t understand why it was so important to us, but gave us their blessings nonetheless.

Over the next few Fridays I’ll share our trip with you.  The first days of the trip were all business.  The last few days were nothing but monkey business.  We stayed in some great places, ate some delicious food, cried some and laughed a lot. Along the way, I hope something I share will help as you plan your own travels.  The first leg of the trip is Dallas to Nashville.  We’ll head there next Friday.