4/23/18 Dear Mishka, my head is spinning but my heart still beats.

So let's start at the beginning. Saturday morning I was sitting there letting my eyes go unfocused and refocus just to watch things double and then single again and my last time I try to focus again and I was stuck. Seeing double. After few minutes I remember that I was told this can be a type of migraine so I grabbed two Tylenol and hit the bed. Woke up some hours later feeling definitely a little loopy, so it's vertigo time. Grab the shirt grab some jeans grab the shoes closest to the bed as it very quickly  grows worse, make a break for my identification in the living room since I suspect a forthcoming trip to the hospital. By the time I get to the credenza the world is spinning and I mean big time. This is the most violent attack I've ever had it came on so fast and so hard. I almost fall over trying to walk about 3 ft. Use a heavy cardboard tube is a walking stick to get myself to the back door , hey it was the nearest thing that I could grab hold of. And actually the only thing in the apartment that would operate is a walking stick and hold my weight to it  it was some seriously heavy duty cardboard, I don't know what it originally held but I loved it at that moment.  I only started a fall over twice walking across the room.

Once I got to the back door I pretty much could not see any more everything was moving too fast and too many different directions so I leaned against the side of the cottage and stagger my way toward the main house. I had every intention of having Mom or Dad take me to the ER. But I got to the point where there were steps,  now I had been shuffling and trying desperately not to fall over when leaning against a wall, these steps were free standing in the midst of pine trees and made of flagstones. I knew there's no possible way I can lift a foot onto a step and then raised myself up so pride be damned I got down on my hands and knees to crawl across the flagstones and the slate.  I don't remember anything except the last step Then back up one more step to the porch and head for the glass doors. Oh look the house is dark, ain't nobody home. I'm wobbling and shaking on hands and knees at this point trying to stay upright because oh shit something is really really wrong. but it only takes 3 or 4 tries to get 911 on my phone and I call for an ambulance. Very very glad I did because after I hung up the phone I collapsed onto my side and could not move. I mean really I tried to roll over and get back to my knees I could not move. I sound like a complete drama queen don't I? But I swear to God that's what really happened so far. 

Now I know for sure that this was happening around 6:30 because when I first opened my eyes I looked at the clock to see if it was time to feed the cat. So I know what time it was when I tried to stand up. I have never had a vertigo attack hit me that fast and that violently. I've had over a dozen over the years many of which required the emergency room but this was the worst I have ever had, I didn't think that this could happen to you.  Have you seen the pictures where they put two colors of paint into a paint can and start swirling them around together? That's what my world was doing when it all started and it just got worse from there. Flagstones can be quite cold did you know? At this point I was truly truly frightened.  I hadn't had a chance to check my pulse with my little meter so I had no idea if it was dropping.  All I could think was heart attack or stroke.

Probably about 10 minutes later the ambulance pulled in and they came trundling around the house to the back with the stretcher. where I was screaming for help, sure they wouldn't find me.  Oddly i had the energy to scream.  I was loaded up and taken to the ambulance where they decided to run my vitals and hook up an IV before they even pulled out of the driveway. I remember honest-to-god asking him "please don't let me die".  I've been suicidal in the past but this was NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES.  Another drama queen sounding moment isn't it? At this point I have lost my vision and can barely hear. I manage to answer all of his questions because I knew what most of them would be ( truly too many trips to the ER have happened in my life).  And I was able to answer a lot of them by simply handing him my driver's license and my health care card that I had snagged and stuffed in my pocket. I do remember hearing him ask his partner for his radio because his was dead, the partner said hid was almost dead too.  'm gonna die.  In between barfing i let the world go black.  Seemed safer than listening in could hear him on the radio saying something about very low pulse. They let me choose the hospital so off we dashed for about 20 minutes to St. Joes, oh helll NO U OF M.  I wanna be seen now, not next week!!! This is where the real fun began as far as I'm concerned.  Let the barfing begin.  For the entire 20 minute drive and for a few minutes still at the hospital I did nothing but throw up and pass out between bouts To quote one of my favorite movies, I threw up everything except my memories and my redneck relatives. When I did finally try to speak at the hospital to answer questions my throat sounded like I had been gargling with gravel.  But they got me into the hospital apparently. I really don't remember any of it except a wheelchair because I couldn't lift my head. I played a wonderfully fascinating game of "stare at your feet while they get a bed." black and white black and white, the world kept going black. Once I was in a bed it was a whirlwind of people in the room hooking up this and that. I remember my boots being yanked off, the rest of the clothes must have gone in the dark. at one of the rare moments I opened my eyes I had so many leads and IVs in both arms that I looked like I was making love to an octopus.  Snarky cannot be stopped by heart attack. I remember deciding to let myself go ahead and pass out and let things go dark. I could feel a nurse washing my mouth and face and neck,,,eeewie.I could also hear at that moment the heart monitor start going off and beeping really super, screaming fast like it does on TV and movies when things are going wrong. Somebody was pushing on my chest and shaking my shoulder yelling "Wake up Pam!!" Okay I'll wake up but not by much, that's enough.  bye bye dark again.  blessed dark..

I remember them saying they were going to keep me overnight. So Upsa Daisy I magically was transported to the 5th floor. A doctor came in while a nurse was helping me cover my bare ass,  and explained that a blood test was showing particular enzymes in my heart were being sent  indicating it was under stress. Now with the exception of my husband living in Knoxville at this time I was completely stress-free for the last 4 months. My greatest concern was getting my cat fed and keeping it a plant alive.  WTF  I need support and love.  Off to facebook but down play it.

They were going to see if I looked better in the morning. So all evening we played that game where they come and wake you up every hour to stick needles in you and into your IV and give you this and take that. In the morning the doctor, a new one, came in and said that rather than dropping, these enzymes were climbing. They put me on a Heparin drip and they also took away one of my medications blaming it for everything that was going on. I spent the day with people coming in approximately every 30 minutes poking at my veins drawing blood for this and that. After a while I just now ran out of veins and I look like I've been in a bar fight there so many bruises on my hand. At one point we went through four nurses each being allowed to try twice to draw blood and they just couldn't get it done. The last nurse announced that it was like playing whack-a-mole. She then pulled off a trick her mother the nurse had taught her  and hit a vein no problem. By now they had taken off about half of my octopus, the rest of it was attached to some sort of battery pack or monitor and tucked into my shirt pocket.

Mom and dad came Sunday afternoon with some requested socks and underwear.  Hey I was in bed when this thing started and I knew I was in trouble, that involves grab your clothes grab your shoes no I'm not going to bend over and dig around in the drawer for underwear and socks. I'll just have to go as is. It was good timing because the doctor came in and shut and locked the door to talk with us. You want to talk about a frightening beginning?  He announced that they were going to do an ultrasound or echo on my heart itself to see if there was anything wrong going on. He also informed all of us that in the morning the specialist from  a cardiac  center  was going to come to the hospital and give me a heart catheter. This involves sticking something into a vein in my arm and pushing it all the way to my heart so they could look at it directly.  That was terrifying to me.  Dad asked some questions that I no longer remember but I knew at the time that they were good to ask.  He said it was good he was there, at the words heart cath I went white and my eyes glazed over . Around 11 Saturday  night after one set of blood tests one of the nurses suddenly came in my room hauling ass. Seriously, she came around the corner at a run.  This is not helping me with my anxiety. She announced that basically I was responding a little too much to the Heparin  AND I WAS NOT TO LEAVE THE BED!  I knew I would eventually need to leave the bed cuz they had just hung a fresh liter of solution in my remaining IV Port. The other port was still in my other arm but nothing hooked to it currently, I guess though they were expecting something more to happen since they didn't take it out. All of this wonder joy going on in my life.  When 11:30 p.m. rolled around and three nurses so far had tried multiple times and failed to hit a vein for yet another blood draw the 4th nurse came in to try and get the last blood sample she announced that basically at this point they were playing whack-a-mole with my veins. Apparently they roll, a lot. The next nurse that came on duty walked in and hit a vein on the first try and we got a full vial. So it is a quarter after midnight and I'm here for another night. But she just poked her nose in the door and announced that if they didn't like the results of these tests they were going to draw more.  Good luck finding any. They have taken away the Heparin or at least eased back on it, and in the morning we will see if my heart is still kicking out those enzymes and how I'm doing with the blood thinner and stick in that heart catheter.

Monday afternoon another nurse came tearing around and said the monitors showed my heart had stopped.  It was heart cath day.  I go home tomorrow.  In a sling with serious instructions to NOT MOVE THE ARM.  Also to see my Dr.  He hummed and chuckled (they apparently described me as a charming patient)  Then said matter-of-factually, "Yup, you had a heart attack"  "You're not taking that medication anymore.

So I'm on a whole new cocktail of drugs and a hemp derivative so I don't lose my hands.  I'm told I can get Medical Marijuana But seriously, toke upon my ultra conservative parents property.  Hell No.  Or how bout with Matt around.  Yeah...Assistant Director for Student Conduct and Ethics and his room smells like has bash and so do his work clothes.  Fuck no!!!!

Mom and dad plan on selling this place, cannot have it smell like Animal House.

So, how was your weekend?

7/27/2016 Dear Mishka. Contemplation on Airports.

7/27/2016.
Dear Mishka

You know, when most people think of airports they think of open airy buildings, crowds hustling and bustling (ok, many stressed and rude) spacious bathroom (not the stalls though), airlines like Delta and American Airlines, and stores where you can pay too much for a magazine, a bag of candy, or much needed shot of whiskey in case you just had a 4 hour flight with 6 toddlers and teething infants on board.  Even international locations, such as San Juan are viewed thusly  Sort of.

Ah San Juan.  We can fly in on a nice big jet.  Roomy, comfy, and are welcomed by a fully modern air conditioned terminal.  But our connection?  There's this little bitty airline known as Seaborne.  Puddle jumpers they are known as.  One over heated flight attendant, wobbly metal stairs to get into a plane 3 seats across, irregular engine noises, possibly duct tape and super glue are involved.  These little beasties do not rate a full terminal.  So when you leave your tidy, wide seat extra leg room piece of heaven, and yes I say heaven because.... wait for it, the shock sets in.

You collect your nifty new bag and head out to see where your connecting flight is.  Oh my, way over there?  Ok.  Start hoofing.  As you twist and turn you notice lights dimming, and sandwich board signs pointing out changes and directing people the other way.  Then you see it, a plywood wall across half the hall.

Your destination lies beyond this ominous portal.  More nervous toddling along.  The lights are visibly dimmed as many overheads have been turned off.  The air is getting warmer.  The stalls and cafes have all gone dark and are stripped clean.  Still you go on through this ghost town.  Then you see it, a light at the end of the tunnel. Salvation!

Your tiny gate shares space with only one other puddle jumper (Cape Air).  You peek around the corner to find the dead end of the airport.  A few dozen seats are there, including a wall desk with a seriously overloaded extension cord powering old lamps and a charging outlet. The desk is manned by a bored looking individual calling the flights as they buzz through.  There is a single tv screen tuned to CNN, blasting the latest gossip and mudslinging in our political and judicial system at full volume.  And there is no air. Nope. None. Not even a cheap fan.  And this is the very end so there are windows all around.  In Puerto Rico. Where it's sunny. And hot.

Did I mention the condition of the tiny restroom in this neglected and forgotten no man's land? No? Good. Don't ever ask, just remember summer camp.

If you haven't fainted by the time your flight is called you step outside the door and down a set of scaffolding-like metal stairs, onto the tarmac and are directed around the corner to where your jumper awaits.  A baggage handler takes away your shiny new carry on (which has no scuffs or dings) to heave it heartily into the under belly. You head for a truly unstable and frightening set of folding stairs to scrunch into a seat designed for a third grader and wait for them to wind the giant rubber band so you can putter your way to 17,000 feet where you can only look down, out the window and find religion.

Happy Travels!



*honorable mention, this is the only airport I have EVER been in where the stall doors open OUT!  Thank God.  My carry on and I do not like fighting for space just so I can close a door and achieve the illusion of private peeing.

5/27/2016 Dear Mishka, 

Listen carefully my child and I will tell you how to handle a situation from the bowels of Danes Hell.  I will somehow tell you about the wonders of the of selling our house in Milan.

When we announced it was on the market, a dear frienof ours, who has regularly visited and seen the house was interested in it as was his wife and new baby. We had informed our current renters that we were coming by on the last day of July, the day they were supposed to leave . Please note that I use the words SUPPOSED TO . We arrived with trepidation and I found myself walking across an overgrown lawn with paving stones laid on it killing the grass and a half dead garden where my lavender and fern garden used to be.  Nervouslywe open the front door with great trepidation to a sign of landlord terror. Directly inside the front door only steps away was all of the furniture appear to have been crammed into the living room and the dining room. Everywhere I looked I saw art taped to the walls, tacked to the walls, pinned to the walls, holes where they had tried to remove nails and shelving screwed to the walls. I almost screamed!  Now let me give you a little information. This house is 130 years old with the original plaster walls . If you put a nail in it, when you remove it the plaster disintegrates. There is an entire paragraph in the lease that says no pins nails screws tape or anything else basically touching the walls other than what already exists. Clearly this didn't mean shit . I cannot even get into the dining room to see what had been done .

In a panic to save the sale I explained to Paul's wife Andrea that I would have everything fixed and good as new in two weeks. We then headed upstairs to see what that looks like. Jesus Mary and Joseph! Have you ever smelled a years worth of cat urine all in the same spot ? Yeah it smells just like what you think. They have let the cat use the carpets so often that it actually was molded,  they say it is because the cat would not use the litter box . This cat used to be ours and we KNOW he was litter trained. In this lovely old house there are wood floors beneath the carpeting. Old who'd.  Wood that absorbs moisture . I proceeded to morph into a small Doberman and do a little bit of barking at this point. It came down to"we don't care"

This was all before I opened up the closet door that led to the attic and discovered that the partially furnished home we rented to them had been stripped of furniture, disassembled and crammed upstairs into a very tiny attic. We have a very narrow tall staircase that I have dubbed suicide stairs. I have no idea how they got this furniture up and then through the door into the attic .

While Paul had seen the house before and had faith in me , Andria wanted nothing to do with it at this point. Sale lost because of these two lazy inconsiderate bums.

Now our return tickets couldn't get changed so we had to go back to the island leaving this mess. Once we got back we called our travel agent and told her to find the fastest flight possible to get me back. Time to put the fear of God into these two bitches. We told them I was coming back but didn't tell them when. I have this reputation for being a real bitch so hopefully that helped.

Just getting down there was a real hoot. You see, the day before my flight left, tropical storm Erica arrived and did an amazing job of wiping out entire towns on this island. One village slid halfway into the ocean, all of the roads were undercut and damaged and just plain washed away, and the rinky dink excuse for an airport was completely flooded .   Rumor has it a few days later they had cleared out.  Ok, let's try it. 

Now with roads gone how was I supposed to even get there? Well here's how the next adventure all started .  We begin by waking up at 3 a.m. so we could walk in the road in the dark at 3:30. What? you expect me to say sidewalk? Silly fool. We hoof along dragging my carry on for approximately 1 mile. We are headed to the newest and safest building on campus that has become emergency headquarters for the University right. Somewhere around 4:00 everyone moving like blind mole rats gather so that we can be stuffed on the buses by 4:30 and trundled down into the little town of Portsmouth to await a water taxi. This is really pretty much just a sort of fishing boat with a lot of seats.

This is approximately the time I have the absolutely delightful privilege did you miss you
of having a vertigo attack hit me as I can see the boat in the distance closing in on the dock.  It wavers about in my eyes that cannot focus any longer. I'm dressed for slow travel wearing three inch heels and managed not to collapse to my knees completely, only partially.  Luckily this was sort of the only escape route so I had not only medical students around me, and a number of mothers and dropping off their children and are going through withdrawl already who immediately took me underwing and insisted that I not go more than 3 feet away from them . Slightly annoying but very touching. Especially since I manage to take care of the vertigo attack and was just fine.  Yay for Jesus blessed pharmaceuticals.

And onto the boat no matter what condition I am in or possibly could become because there's no way I'm staying on the island after all that work. Didn't pay $1,700 for this damned airline ticket for nothing. So finally away we go at 5:30 headed down the eastern coast to Roseau so that we could get on, wait for it, another boat! Did I mention the words motion sickness? Once again cheers for the blessed pharmaceuticals!

This watercraft is a high speed ferry to the neighbouring island of Guadalupe. I choose to sit upstairs, expecting a nice breeze, which is a mistake as it turns out that past off the boat is an airless box stuffy hot and miserable.  I sit in this sauna the whole way, the entire four and a half hour trip it takes to get to Guadalupe (the island is approximately 60 miles away but with an international airport which we all need).

Am I done there? God no. Once we disembark it cattle chute to get to customs, they don't seem to believe in lines, they believe in shoving people out of the way, pushing, stomping on toes, and elbowing you in the kidney in order to get ahead. and we have arrived at 1 o'clock many of us with a 3 o'clock flight. There is enough shouted complaining, mutual elbowing and shoving that the captain finally called overhead to everyone with a three o'clock flight. We are to move to the front. we make it mostly to the front where we then proceed to use our elbows to punch holes into our neighbors. Got through customs? Wonderful! Now you have to go find a taxi.

Another woman and I got the bright idea to walk all the way to the entrance to the ferry dock and snag a taxi before he could even get up to where everyone else was waiting. Ha ! Take that! Guadalupe is literally right within line of sight of Dominica so of COURSE they don't take island currency and there's no cash exchange. We all have to find somebody with the money to pay for the cab in American currency who will share the ride with us. 15 minutes more and we are off toward the airport. Things are looking okay so far. Then we discover we have another cattle chute to go through. This time to get our tickets scanned and our picture taken and an odd little ticket printed out. We go merrily along the process of this (and of course at this point the photograph is nothing less than absolutely stunning)

Then into another customs line, are we having fun yet kids? Things are getting a little tense at this point. Of course thanks to the remaining ghost of vertigo, my adrenalin rushing through my veins like the Kentucky Derby, and my natural tremors (aggravated tenfold by the afore mentioned states into full fledged flapping) the customs agent stops stares at me in the eye and says "you're shaking a lot is something wrong?" I can just see myself suddenly being taken away to detention for quivering like a rabbit in a gun sight. I very quickly claim Parkinsons, my favorite lie. I am cleared for take off.  I go barreling through the airport along with numerous other people where we hop onto assorted flights in the joy of finally winging our way into Miami. Oh look! I traveled through another country I have more customs to go through. I have an hour and a half to get through the Miami Airport and customs. I'm glad I don't have to check my bag because my gate is not, I repeat NOT, anywhere nearby and I'm almost out of time. They're boarding now and I'm still at the other end of the airport.

Let the real charge begin.  " Ladies and gentlemen they're off ". Did I mention I had moved into flip flops? Those were my choices, flip flops or the 3 inch heels. An announcement blares overhead. They are still boarding that plane. Oh loo, one of those skytrains, let's run catch it!

But to ensure the fun continues let's run the wrong way for a good stretch of concourse first. That's the ticket! Don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, look at the watch. Freak. Up onto the sky tram. Now we are only 15 minutes late. The sky tram arrives where we leap like gazelles off of the tram. Gazelles being chased by a hungry pride of lions. Myself and one other young man who's on the same tram go barreling down the hall headed for the same plane. I'm not sure how he gets there well ahead of me..... I don't remember sitting and taking a short nap? It might be because he's 6-2 and has legs longer than God intended.  I run to the gate to find an empty waiting area. The doors closed. This is not good, my eyes begin to tear up as I run up to the desk and ask "am I too late am I too late?" The flight attendant looks at me and stares like a disapproving nun for a moment and says "Are you Pamela?" Something inside of me sinks slowly to the ground and burrows a hole, crawls in it, and begins to cover itself up to die.  "Yes" I squeak.  They reopen the gate and I go scampering down that jetway, flip flopping the entire way, and make it to my seat, 1A. First class.

I go to raise my bag into the overhead and the young man I recognize from the tram gets up to assist me. I can't help it, part of my brain simply wondered, "How the hell did you get here before me?" As we're doing so the attendant is kind enough to ask if she can get me a drink while I'm getting settled I pause for half a heartbeat and look her straight in the eye and say "a shot of Jack on the rocks", hell after that morning I deserve it.. The young man that has been through the entire travail with me stops what he's doing looks at her and says "that sounds like a really good idea me too". Well I may be stuck paying the high price of first class but by god I'm going to get all the goodies and eat and drink my way through it. I'm wondering what my trip home from Michigan will be like? Oh goody goody. Because on the way back to the island my schedule so far is that I fly on the 19th into Miami and then from Miami to San Juan . I've got to stay the night in the San Juan Airport Hotel, a nasty dive but hell, when you're the only hotel, why waste money on rooms. So on Sunday I fly into Guadalupe. But there are no ferries from Guadalupe on Sundays so I have to spend the night in yet another truly remarkable dive where I sleep fully clothed on top of the bed. That means I catch the ferry on Monday. You can't reserve the ferry tickets in advance so currently I have no idea if I'm going to go and be able to purchase my ferry ticket. And when I hopefully get back on the island how am I going to get back to Portsmouth, will roads be open after the storm? Will I have a cab willing to risk the trip? Will I have to find a water taxi? How do I find a water taxi? Those were arranged by the school before! I have this feeling that I'm not going to see home for a long time. And I'm not going to enjoy a minute of it. Stay tuned in kids this story ain't over yet.

This panicked trip, bought at the last minute, cleaned out our bank account but there was no one I dated ask to take on this monumental task.  I needed two weeks so no easy carry on, this time was the pain in the ass of checked luggage. Since Seaborne was a joke, I arranged to get there about three hours early. I wanted to be first. Hell. I wanted to freaking teleport to Michigan.

*** Something amusing I heard over the loudspeaker in Detroit:
"So and so airlines now boarding flight 2171 to Las Vegas"  This was repeated twice at 5 minute intervals and then... "Final call for Vegas Barb and Ken McGee, last call if you want to go to Vegas, otherwise there are very nice casinos in Windsor." Totally deadpan. Or almost. ...***

Back to the house.
It took them until the middle of August to get their crap out. It took me flying back from the island emergency time to clean up, a last minute ticket costs$1,600.  So I start by hiring a handyman to patch over 40 holes (I counted until I had to stop) in the assorted walls including a section where the plaster had been completely torn off and where shelving had been screwed in . I was ballistically angry and ready to take them to court for breaking their lease, including not being out by the last of July and not paying for the first two weeks of August. Matt pointed out you can't get blood from a stone since one of them had quit her job to go back to school and the other was unemployed. Don't ask me why they would do this when renting, and including not applying for unemployment in the first place, I give up on understanding how their brains don't work. On our first trip we had no choice but to simply tally what we could in the house and head back to the island because our plane tickets could not be changed from an August 1st return.

Once we got on the island Matthew called and told them that his wife was coming back soon, we did not tell them how quickly. It took me two weeks and over $1,600 in airfare to get back to Michigan. By this time they had removed their belongings but left all of mine stuffed into closets, attics and the basement. Fury is such a teeny tiny word compared to my emotions . Also, every single person that we have ever helped move never showed up to help us. No matter how many times we asked for help.   Not one.  Fuck them all. Only one man who had previously broken his back came along and I was concerned about him despite his protesting he was fine. And an old sewing student of mine who did yard work. I told her I would pay her $200 if she could get that yard in order including mowing it weeding the gardens trimming the bushes etc. and making it look decent before my ticket expires. I then paid her boyfriend the same amount of money to carry all of the furniture and throw it out at the curb because I have no idea how to reassemble it nor do I have a way to get it into storage by myself . There was a damn nice and brand-new wardrobe in there and I couldn't even figure out where the screws were.  I was in tears watching it go. There was of course the handyman, Molly maid, (who had to come out twice because the first crew didn't really clean anything and the second crew that started out with two but calling others until the ended up consisting of six people). I had to rent a car since we sold ours when we moved out of the country and I needed to make sure it had trunk space to move the few things that I was determined to save . There was more money down the drain. I had to purchase paint, plaster and assorted other repair supplies to get this house in order. Even the porch had to be stripped and painted. I started at 7 AM every morning and ended at 9 PM every night where twice I fell asleep in my dinner plate. I cried myself to sleep numerous times .

After two weeks the house was still not finished and my tickets had come up and I now had to fly back to the island again . At least we were down to just the handyman doing the work that remains, painting the dining room and re-plastering the walls, patching walls and repainting the living room, touching up paint in the upstairs bedroom , caulking the bathtub , sanding and repainting the porch . No, of course I had no intention of saving money for the rest of my life, I always wanted to spend over $3,300 on this (die you two wenches die!).

Final word on the house, it took 8 months and repairs to water heater and electrical but that Turkey SOLD!  $4,000 loss, $7,300 with repairs but who cares at this point? We are gone!

I have promised Matthew not to publish the names of these two women but believe me I would like to put them up in screaming red neon after what they did to me, my house and completely disregarded a legal document that they had signe

March something...Dear Mishka

The spouses coastal cruise

So the faculty spouses outing headed out once a week on an adventure which is primarily our excuse to drink, bob about in the ocean, glasses of wine in hand, and flop in the sun, beer nearby. In the past we've gone to waterfalls, played in the sea, shopped in the capital, eaten great food..and now there was this, the exciting first time coastal cruise.  There was a beautiful one previously for faculty where we stopped at different coves to look at reefs and caves and snorkel our way down the coast.

BUT.......Then there was this experience, it was like we had passed God off.. We arrived and there was an empty dive shop with a locked boutique above in what resembled an old barn, and a shabby dock, with no boat. Last year I agreed to sell jewelry in the now locked boutique so we got him to open it to see my jewelry (that they were not selling). It was no where in sight, everything was covered in dust and I hadn't seen a dime. The trip better be better than this crapola.

Out away to the water we could see a sort of cross between a tourist boat and a fishing trawler.  Oh god no, we all hoped.  Yep. Our Captain was a paunchy guy on his own with skinny first mate-ish.  the sweaty guy in a swimsuit took our $95 each and led us down to the rickety dock, pointing out loose boards for us not to step on. There,  sitting low in the water was a rough dingy. Bobbing about with three boards stretching across it as if for stability......NOPE!

We were told we had to climb down and somehow jump into the boat, then sit on one off the boards. Whaaaaaat?

I managed it in a leap that they tried to wave off (like there was another way to get 6 feet down?) but I had timed it so my tail landed on a board (seat). For christs sake, some of these women are 15 year ex-pats and 60 - 70 years olds!  Not to mention a physically disabled member. How the hell they got in I will never know.   Only a few of us fit at a time without tipping the dingy over. so we wobbled back and forth and held on for dear life as we loaded up, careful to stay on our side so we didn't tip over and then we headed for, you guessed it, the little boat..we were helped up by Mr Paunchy and now sweaty who grabbed us and bodily yanked us up..  I didn't get a grip and as I slipped I laughingly called out "Going down"!

My cohorts laughed with me but our captain was not amused and yanked me up, HARD..... ouch.  SOB.

Once we got both boatloads there and every one aboard he told us to stay evenly dispersed on the boat or risk tipping over.  TIP OVER?  Gosh this was already worth my $95.  One of the other women and I discussed how unhappy everyone was.  We were then offered the promised refreshments.......  a small cooler of juice or water.  This was our choice. 

There was only enough cover on the boat for about 4 people at a time, the rest were stuck in the sun so we had to rotate to avoid terrible sunburn.  Our cruise never stopped for the advertised snorkel spots until we about had a coup and demanded he stop at a popular spot where we could jump in and cool off..

At long last we arrived at our goal, the Romance Cafe at Mero beach.  But wait, where's the dock?  Instead we maneuvered in sight of the cafe for about 30 minutes to a semi shallow part.  We then had to unceremoniously climb down the dive ladder, land in chest high water where they handed us our belongings which we balanced on our heads and waded to shore.  Oh the dignity and relaxing adventure.

The Romance Café did their best to deal with approximately a dozen customers and the single kitchen. We were used to this and knew it would take about a half hour to get our food . Once we receive it we all enjoyed a leisurely lunch and then headed down to the beach where we could lay on beach chairs beneath the new cabanas and enjoy the warmth of the sand and the water. 

Once we got stretched out in the chairs, opened our books and laid-back, suddenly Captain Paunchy leaned down on the horn repeatedly. You have got to be kidding me! He had decided that our adventure was over and we had to all gather our things, balance them on our heads, and wade back out to the boat where we tossed our belongings up to be caught and set aside before we wobbled our way up the ladder again . We wanted to kill them by now.

Of course at some point on the way back the weather had changed and the wind picked up.  This meant waves in all directions.  I watched our skinny first (and only) mate spin that wheel all the way left, then all the way right, over and over trying to meet every wave head on.  This resulted in skewing about like an Olympic snow skier in a pine forest, in addition to bouncing.  God bless my Zofran and lack of faith in boats.

And of course what are waves and whitecaps and nausea without the addition of freezing cold rain. The only amusement we had was a rainbow that actually splashed down into the water. If you've never seen a rainbow that actually ends in the water it's about the neatest thing in the world. It looks like paint cans of all colors were  poured down . Environmentally friendly paint of course.

We all tried cramming ourselves underneath the itty-bitty cover only to discover that the wind blew the rain right inside. Some of the oldest of our ex-pats we covered up with towels as best we could to attempt to keep them dry, warm, and still partially alive for the most part . At last we arrived back in the bay. Thank freaking God. We were all cold, soaking wet, and pissed off . There was also no sign of the dinghy anywhere in sight . We waited for about 20 minutes and then began ranting and raving to Captain Paunchy. He at last got on his cell phone and called the captain of our useless little dinghy. The dinghy was still in the river nearby and the driver, the son of a bitch, was warm and dry inside and didn't want to go outside and get wet . I didn't hear what the captain actually said but I suspect it was along the lines of I'm going to turn these women loose on you if you don't get out here

While waiting for our little wooden tub we asked the captain why in the name of God he didn't just tie up to the dock. He explained that the cleat had been pulled loose by a previous boat that had docked there and forgotten to untie before pulling away. He didn't actually explain to us why he never got around to repairing the goddamn thing instead of shipping us all out on these little canoes. However he was kind enough to point out to us one more time the loose boards that we shouldn't step on or we might fall through and into the water if we didn't actually break a leg .

I made sure complaints were made to Carol about the fact that we spent so much money and got basically a miserable time . She looked surprised . Do you want to know the real surprise? A recent suggestion for an outing included doing this again! No amount of alcohol in this world could possibly get me on this trip, I will sing karaoke first . 

7/25/2015 Dear Mishka. How to sell a house

Dear Mishka 

 To sell a house in a hurricane.  My husband's definition is to call a realtor, close your eyes, then stick your fingers in your ears and hum real loud until they tap you on the shoulder and say it's done.  I wish.  NOPE!

So, let me tell you about the wonders and the joy of selling our house in Milan.

A dear friend of ours who has regularly visited and seen the house was interested in renting with an option to buy, as was his wife and new baby. We had informed our current renters that we were coming by on the last day of July, the day they were supposed to leave . Please note that I use the words SUPPOSED TO . Upon walking across an overgrown lawn with paving stones laid on it killing the grass and a half dead garden we open the front door with great trepidation to a sign of landlord terror. Directly inside the front door only steps away was all of the furniture appear to have been crammed into the living room and the dining room. Everywhere I looked I saw art taped to the walls, tacked to the walls, pinned to the walls, holes where they had tried to remove nails and shelving screwed to the walls. I almost screamed!  Now let me give you a little information. This house is 130 years old with the original plaster walls . If you put a nail in it, when you remove it the plaster disintegrates. There is an entire paragraph in the lease that says no pins nails screws tape or anything else basically touching the walls other than what already exists. Clearly this didn't mean shit . I cannot even get into the dining room to see what had been done .

In a panic to save the sale I explained to John's wife Sally that I would have everything fixed and good as new in two weeks. We then headed upstairs to see what that looks like. Jesus Mary and Joseph! Have you ever smelled a years worth of cat urine all in the same spot ? Yeah it smells just like what you think. They have let the cat use the carpets so often that it actually was molded,  they say it is because the cat would not use the litter box . This cat used to be ours and we KNOW he was litter trained. In this lovely old house there are wood floors beneath the carpeting. Old wood.  Wood that absorbs moisture . I proceeded to morph into a small Doberman and do a little bit of barking at this point. It came down to the renters saying basically "we don't care"

This was all before I opened up the closet door that led to the attic and discovered that the partially furnished home we rented to them had been stripped of furniture, which they then disassembled and crammed upstairs into a very tiny attic. We have a very narrow tall staircase that I have dubbed suicide stairs. I have no idea how they got this furniture up and then through the door into the attic .

While John had seen the house before and had faith in me , Sally wanted nothing to do with it at this point. Sale lost because of these two lazy inconsiderate bums camped out inside.

Now, our return tickets couldn't be changed so we had to go back to the island leaving this mess behind Once we got back we called our travel agent and told her to find the fastest flight possible to get me back. Time to put the fear of God into these two lazy bitches. We told them I was coming back but didn't tell them when. I have this reputation for being a real bitch so hopefully that helped.

Just getting down there was a real hoot. You see, the day before my flight left, tropical storm Erica arrived and did an amazing job of wiping out entire towns on this island. One village slid halfway into the ocean, all of the roads were undercut and damaged and just plain washed away, and the rinky dink excuse for an airport was completely flooded .   Rumor has it a few days later they had cleared out.  Ok, let's try it. 

Now that the fury of the storm is over it was time to go ahead and travel

😱------------------------------------------------😱
How was I supposed to even get there? Well here's how the next adventure all started .  We begin by waking up at 3 a.m. so we could walk in the road in the dark at 3:30. What? you expect me to say sidewalk? Silly fool. There be no sidewalks here matey.  We hoof along dragging my carry-on suitcase for approximately 1 mile with me dressed for travel. We didn't dare ask anyone to get up at that ungodly hour and drive us so there's your mental picture. The two of us, me dressed for travel hauling a rolling suitcase along the side of the road hoping to God we don't get smacked by a fast-moving car. Or mistaken for a bunch of cows in the road.

I say dressed for travel because I can't stand people that show up in their pajamas and slippers as a way of moving around an airport. For me it is always a set of heels, nice slacks or jeans and a pleasant top and jacket. Dress well for a good impression I always say. And you want customs agents and homeland security to take you seriously. It's hard to impress someone while wearing pajama pants with little duckies and pink bunny slippers. 

Cases went out on a priority basis which of course meant I was last . We had to catch a bus first.

Somewhere around 4:00, everyone moving like blind mole rats, we gather so that we can be stuffed on the buses by 4:30 and trundled down into the little town of Portsmouth to await a water taxi. This is really pretty much just a sort of fishing boat with a lot of seats.

This is approximately the time I have the absolutely delightful privilege of having a vertigo attack hit me just as I can see the boat in the distance closing in on the dock.  It wavers about in my eyes that cannot focus any longer. I'm dressed for slow travel wearing three inch heels and managed not to collapse to my knees completely, only partially.  Luckily this was sort of the only escape route so I had not only medical students around me, also a number of mothers suck on the island while dropping off their children.  These women are going through withdrawal already so they immediately took me under wing and insisted that I not go more than 3 feet away from them . Slightly annoying but very touching. Especially since I had already taken care of the vertigo attack and was just fine.  Yay for Jesus, Mary and Joseph blessed pharmaceuticals.

And I am getting onto the boat no matter what condition I am in or possibly could become because there's no way I'm staying on the island after all that work. Didn't pay $1,700 for this damned airline ticket for nothing.

So finally away we go at 5:30 headed down the eastern coast to Roseau so that we could get on, wait for it, another boat! Did I mention the words motion sickness? Once again cheers for the blessed pharmaceuticals!

This watercraft is a high speed ferry to the neighbouring island of Guadalupe. I choose to sit upstairs, expecting a nice breeze, which is a mistake. It turns out that the boat is an airless box, stuffy hot and miserable.  I sit in this sauna the whole way, the entire four and a half hour trip it takes to get to Guadalupe (the island is approximately 60 miles away but with an international airport which we all need).

Am I done there? God no. Once we disembark it is time for the cattle chute to get to customs, they don't seem to believe in lines, they believe in shoving people out of the way, pushing, stomping on toes, and elbowing you in the kidney in order to get ahead. and we have arrived at 1 o'clock many of us with a 3 o'clock flight. There is enough shouted complaining, mutual elbowing and shoving that the captain finally called overhead to everyone with a three o'clock flight. We are to move to the front. We make it mostly to the front where we then proceed to use our elbows to punch holes into our neighbors. Got through customs? Wonderful! Now you have to go find a taxi.

Another woman and I got the bright idea to walk all the way to the entrance to the ferry dock and snag a taxi before he could even get up to where everyone else was waiting. Ha ! Take that! Guadalupe is literally right within line of sight of Dominica so of COURSE they don't take island currency and there's no cash exchange. We all have to find somebody with the money to pay for the cab in American currency who will share the ride with us. 15 minutes more and we are off toward the airport. Things are looking okay so far. Then we discover we have another cattle chute to go through. This time to get our tickets scanned and our picture taken and an odd little ticket printed out. We go merrily along the process of this (and of course at this point the photograph is nothing less than absolutely stunning).

Then into yet another customs line, are we having fun yet kids? Things are getting a little tense at this point. Of course thanks to the remaining ghost of vertigo, my adrenalin is rushing through my veins like the Kentucky Derby, and my natural tremors (aggravated tenfold by the afore mentioned adventure) have increased into full fledged flapping.  So the customs agent stops stares me in the eye and says "you're shaking a lot, is something wrong?" I can just see myself suddenly being taken away to detention for quivering like a rabbit in a gun sight. AND MISSING THE DAMNED PLANE!!!!  I very quickly claim Parkinsons, my favorite lie. I am cleared for take off.  I go barreling through the airport along with numerous other people where we hop onto assorted flights basking in the joy of finally winging our way into Miami....and civilization. Oh look! I traveled through another country so I have more customs to go through. I have an hour and a half to get through the Miami Airport and customs. I'm glad I don't have to check my bag because my gate is not, I repeat NOT, anywhere nearby and I'm almost out of time. They're boarding now and I'm still at the other end of the airport.

Let the real charge begin.  " Ladies and gentlemen they're off ". Did I mention I had moved into flip flops? Those were my choices, flip flops or the 3 inch heels. An announcement blares overhead. They are still boarding that plane. Oh look, one of those skytrains, let's run catch it! Flip flop faster!

But to ensure the fun continues let's run the wrong way for a good stretch of concourse first. That's the ticket! Don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, don't look at the watch, look at the watch. Freak. Up onto the sky tram. Now we are only 15 minutes late. The sky tram arrives where we leap like gazelles off of the tram. Gazelles being chased by a hungry pride of lions. Myself and one other young man who's on the same tram go barreling down the hall headed for the same plane. I'm not sure how he gets there well ahead of me..... I don't remember sitting and taking a short nap? It might be because he's 6-2 and has legs longer than God intended.  I run to the gate to find an empty waiting area. The doors closed. This is not good, my eyes begin to tear up as I run up to the desk and ask "Am I too late am I too late?" The flight attendant looks at me and stares like a disapproving nun for a moment and says "Are you Pamela?" Something inside of me sinks slowly to the ground and burrows a hole, crawls in it, and begins to cover itself up to die.  "Yes" I squeak.  They reopen the gate and I go scampering down that jetway, flip flopping the entire way, and make it to my seat, 1A. First class. Thank you God.

I go to raise my bag into the overhead and the young man I recognize from the tram gets up to assist me. I can't help it, part of my brain simply wondered, "How the hell did you get here before me?" As we're doing so the attendant is kind enough to ask if she can get me a drink while I'm getting settled I pause for half a heartbeat and look her straight in the eye and say "a shot of Jack on the rocks" hell, after that morning I deserve it.. The young man that has been through the entire travail with me stops what he's doing, looks at her and says "that sounds like a really good idea. Me too". Well I may be stuck paying the high price of first class but by god I'm going to get all the goodies and eat and drink my way through it.

This panicked trip, bought at the last minute, cleaned out our bank account but there was no one I dared ask to take on this monumental task.  I had to get there. Hell. I wanted to freaking teleport to Michigan. When we landed I honest to God put in my earphones and played the University of Michigan fight song.  I almost sang along, as it was I hummed.

*** Something amusing I heard over the loudspeaker in Detroit:
"So and so airlines now boarding flight 2171 to Las Vegas"  This was repeated twice at 5 minute intervals and then... "Final call for Vegas Barb and Ken McGee, last call if you want to go to Vegas, otherwise there are very nice casinos in Windsor." Totally deadpan. Or almost. ...***

Back to the house.
It took them until the middle of August to get their crap out. It took me flying back from the island emergency time to clean up, a last minute ticket costs$1,600.  So I start by hiring a handyman to patch over 40 holes (I counted until I had to stop) in the assorted walls including a section where the plaster had been completely torn off and where shelving had been screwed in . I was ballistically angry and ready to take them to court for breaking their lease, including not being out by the last of July and not paying for the first two weeks of August. Matt pointed out you can't get blood from a stone since one of them had quit her job to go back to school and the other was unemployed. Don't ask me why they would do this when renting, and including not applying for unemployment in the first place, I give up on understanding how their brains don't work. On our first trip we had no choice but to simply tally what we could in the house and head back to the island because our plane tickets could not be changed from an August 1st return.

Once we got on the island Matthew called and told them that his wife was coming back soon, we did not tell them how quickly. It took me two weeks and over $1,600 in airfare to get back to Michigan. By this time they had removed their belongings but left all of mine stuffed into closets, attics and the basement. Fury is such a teeny tiny word compared to my emotions . Also, almost every person that we'd called for help never contacted us back. Someone could have at least called to say no is all. I know I'm a bitch, but these are Matthew's belongings and his home too. Only one man who had previously broken his back came along and I was concerned about him despite his protesting he was fine. And an old sewing student of mine who did yard work. I told her I would pay her $200 if she could get that yard in order including mowing it weeding the gardens trimming the bushes etc. and making it look decent before my ticket expires. I then paid her boyfriend the same amount of money to carry all of the furniture and throw it out at the curb because I have no idea how to reassemble it nor do I have a way to get it into storage by myself . There was a damn nice and brand-new wardrobe in there and I couldn't even figure out where the screws were.  I was in tears watching it go. There was of course the handyman, Molly maid, (who had to come out twice because the first crew didn't really clean anything and the second crew that started out with two but calling others until the ended up consisting of six people). I had to rent a car since we sold ours when we moved out of the country and I needed to make sure it had trunk space to move the few things that I was determined to save . There was more money down the drain. I had to purchase paint, plaster and assorted other repair supplies to get this house in order. Even the porch had to be stripped and painted. I started at 7 AM every morning and ended at 9 PM every night where twice I fell asleep in my dinner plate. I cried myself to sleep numerous times .

After two weeks the house was still not finished and my tickets had come up and I now had to fly back to the island again . At least we were down to just the handyman doing the work that remains, painting the dining room and re-plastering the walls, patching walls and repainting the living room, touching up paint in the upstairs bedroom , caulking the bathtub , sanding and repainting the porch . No, of course I had no intention of saving money for the rest of my life, I always wanted to spend over $3,300 on this (die you two wenches die!).

Final word on the house, it took 8 months and repairs to water heater and electrical but that Turkey SOLD!  $4,000 loss, $7,300 with repairs but who cares at this point? We are gone!

I have promised Matthew not to publish the names of these two women but believe me I would like to put them up in screaming red neon after what they did to me, my house and completely disregarded a legal document that they had signed. 

11/15/2015 Dear Mishka. Oh goody, flying with the little bitty humans.

The faculty wives decided that they want to go on a coastal cruise. Or at least try. 

Our trip to Miami for the much vaunted Disney Cruise we have anticipated all year.

The name of the airline who has a lock on almost all flights out of here is Liat…..

                                                                                                                                                                  

Liat, known for disasters (Luggage Is Already on Tarmac, Liat pronounced Leeate! Etc).  Always schedule hours of layover in San Juan or wherever.  Because they WILL be late.  But miracle of miracles, they actually put us on the plane at THE RIGHT TIME.  Miracle..  But wait, why are there so few seats for so many of us, and why are they moving us about like pawns on a chessboard.  Ahhh, enter the infamous LIAT WAY OF OPERATING.  See, they felt there weren’t enough passengers for a larger plane so they stuffed us all on a small turbo prop.  Now these little turbo props are fussy, you actually have to balance the people evenly based on weight.  Heavy folks in the middle please, light ones fore and aft...  Yeah, THAT feels safe.  So we have wasted a good amount of time with this baloney.  Now we waste more siting and sweating, and then more sitting, and sweating.  I hear the attendant ask the pilot to turn on the engines so the AC will turn on for us,.  Golly, thanks.   Now how about some damn flying?

So when you change planes you have to file new flight plans, not a quickie job, and of course recheck the route, run maintenance over the whole plane since it wasn’t scheduled to be used… and find your slippers, and get a cup of coffee…….etc.  At last we taxi down the shortened runway, you can look out the windows to see where Tropical Storm Erica chewed of one entire end.  And a section of one side of a two lane runway, now reduced to 1.5. No wonder the delivery jets won’t come here anymore.  I wouldn’t either.  It looks like a death trap.  We rattle and flap our way off the end of the runway before it drops into the sea (You think I’m kidding don’t you?  Look it up on Google.)  I have an honest to god urge to stick my arm out the window and flap up and down to see if it helps.  We buzz and bounce our 90 minutes into San Juan, a real international airport with indoor bathrooms and everything.  Then there’s local customs, luggage retrieval (you didn’t think they transferred it did you?).  US Customs, USDA check and stickers, off into line for the next leg of our flight.  I should mention US Customs is always a blast for me.   Anyone who knows me knows a have a rather severe tremor, stress makes it worse.  My whole damn body was jerking.  “You seem a little scared there ma’am.  Any reason why?”  Oh shit.  I do NOT want a body cavity search.  “It’s neurological”.  Actually it runs in the family.  We got no freaking clue what it is.   But that doesn’t sound so convincing.  We finally trot off to a real airline this time.  American Airlines.  We wait in line with everyone else, more minutes ticking away on the clock.  We are now two hours late.  There is a picture of my face on facebook at this point, rather scary looking. Needless to say we have to explain we missed our flight, want to check our bags and get on the next.  American Airlines.  Professionals, right?

HAH!!!!!!!!

You thought this shit was finished didn’t you?  Would I blog that short?  I should mention airports now have hand sanitizers EVERYWHERE.  Must stay clean.  We'll get back to that later.

We get to the counter at last where we are told we have to go to the back of ANOTHER line, the one for “special people”.  Yeah I’ll show you “special” princess.  Matt grabs my arm and drags me over before violence ensues.  We watch people in front of us unpack their suitcases trying to get them both under 50lbs.  When Matt and I ran into that we MOVED OFF TO THE SIDE.  Nope.  More time.  I practically stampeded up when it was my turn.  I handed him our tickets, including Liat with their original departure date.  This genius asked why we missed their plane, while holding the damn tickets.  I looked him straight in the eye and said “Liat is cheap" We get the "look" from our plague carrying desk jockey.  He is sniffling like a snot monster is about to drip out his nose.  As he takes both of our pass ports in hand and examines them. EEEWW.  After hearing our problem he sucks more snot down his throat, takes our tickets in hand and goes to find a supervisor.  In the meantime he dashes into the back, hopefully to evacuate his nose.  With glee in their voice and a gargle, we are told Liat has agreements with not a single airlines so they can’t help.    They merrily (I'm not kidding) tell us we missed the 3:00 flight. We could go on standby.  Standby my ass. I've been waiting for a year for this trip you bozos. I look at him in exasperation and say “Can’t we PAY to get on the plan"e?!".  He looks down his nose at me (a snargling trick) and says “Well sure, if you want to pay (SLAP!) $75.  The slap was my credit card. Which the nose monster who had been tapping his nose with the back of his hands was all too happy to paw over.  This little operation took 20 minutes and two people, he and a supervisor.  What the Hell?  Watching Gargles sneeze into cupped hands and then hand my card and passports I took them with my fingertips like they were infected with ebola.  I actually went to the rest room and used soap and water to scrub the passport, inside laminated cover, and credit card.  Outside I spent a few minutes at the sanitizer station scrubbing them and myself thoroughly  Hubby was right behind me.

Bet you think this is over now… not even close.

Off through more cattle gates and throwing our shoes and bags in a bucket so we can be scanned a'la Star Trek.  Once re-garbed we headed casually to the gate, after all, we can't make it till 5, right? Guess who was still casually loading the 3:00 we “missed”?  Yup, not even half way through and the list of stand-bys was obscene, thank god for emergency credit.  So for 20 minutes we watched them load the plane we wanted on and then had 2 hours to kill.  Oh goody, Junk shops and airport food overpriced.  Oh, it was about this time the snap on my wallet broke… the one holding all the cash.  Now open.  God bless long hair, it means we carry pony tail ties squirreled away on our person and in our bags, one wallet lashed shut.

Now, let’s get to the FUN part.  Boarding.  American couldn’t even put us together so we ended up in the same seat two rows apart.  Not the worst and I had his suitcase in my overhead.  As I settled in I looked across the aisle and saw one of the most terrifying things you can see on an airplane (insert ominous music here), An INFANT!!!  I mean a tiny scream machine with only three people between us.  I yanked my bag out from under the seat and began digging like a frantic Jack Russell Terrier.  Ah Hah!  Earplugs.  Cram cram stuff stuff cram.  I now have silicone plugged halfway into my brain to muffle any screaming yet to begin.  Gotcha!

Oh but fate was far more cruel than that.  While our infant seemed to have been given a valium, something far worse arrived.  TODDLER ALERT!  TODDLER ALERT!  Red lights flashed and sirens whooped.  This monster from hell was seated exactly between myself and Matt.  We are still boarding of course so let the kicking and shouting commence.   I slammed headphones on over the silicone plugs and turned my music to heavy metal, starting with Ozzy in my deafened ears.  Oh and I might have swallowed two valium, dry….Do you know I could still hear the little fucker?  This creature from hell believed every word out his mouth should be shouted at the top of his rather impressive lungs.  Once we took off he discovered the seat back table and the fact you could slam it over and over and no one would stop you.  The parents apparently were either in comas or didn’t care.  The man next to Matt turned more than once and said something. These parents of quality didn't give a crap and let Damien continue his reign of terror.... for a THREE HOUR flight.  I would have gone and told a flight attendant to shut him up, move his seat or I would take care of it myself and they could call the Sky Marshall. (“Hey kid, stop yelling and behave or I’ll sneak in your room while you’re asleep tonight, rip your arm off and beat you with it”)

Upon landing departure looked something like people running from a burning building.  I watched a teenage girl three rows behind me shove past people and was almost to where I was waiting.  Oh hell no.  I turned into part octopus and managed to open the overhead bin, grab Matt’s suitcase, pull it down without crowning anyone all while barely leaving my seat.  As escape got closer I decided a hockey lesson was in order.  The first thing I did was look at her cute pink suitcase she was shoving ahead of hers like a snowplow, and slam mine right on top.  I looked at her with all the hatred I had   for little Damien and she took a step back. Smart move, I was going to body check her into the boards if she tried to leave me anywhere near airplane hell.  My turn!  I took off down the aisle like my butt was on fire, Matt three paces ahead of me moving at the at an even faster speed, I could barely keep up.

We didn’t stop moving until we had trotted through the entire airport to baggage claim, leapt upon an elevator, got to the shuttle stop to the hotel and were waiting outside at the curb.  We stopped and gasped for air.

On my facebook is a shot of me dancing in the hall of an actual hotel.... a late night silent hotel....

2014 Dear Mishka. Cows!

Dear Mishka.

Well, we knew this would be an adventure.  Parrots as ND homing birds and lizards and iguanas and the damned cows on The beach.  Well Something Else Usually travels along with cattle. No I do not mean a million flies. Nor do I mean did not just little birds that pick the flies off the back, no I don't mean mud. I mean it least one big black bulls! Big! And usually planted smack in the middle of the path that we walk down. In past weeks we have simply waited for him to move so that we may walk. 

While walking a friends dog though I lost lost my temper with this animal, picked up a large size palm frond and began waving it at him and yelling and occasionally smacking him in the butt. Mr Bull got out of my way and sauntered off the side of the road. Since then he always avoids me to get out of my way and we walk along quite merrily ignoring each other. 

Well today was a lovely sunrise, we were laughing and we could hear the sound of the waves rolling and smoke still turned up from a night and party before. We were quite enjoying ourselves in the silence. And then I heard a familiar sound, eats. Horses? One of the riding stables is down here? I'm so excited I turn around to see the horse and said I see a charging bull approximately four feet away from me. OK in approximately half a microsecond my brain said I have nothing to wave at him, I am too close to run, open beach on both sides and open water behind.  This is going to hurt a lot if I don't do something. So I have on my arm with a little bitty picnic basket my other arm holding a student coat that I am sewing and yelling.. Matthew was also yelling and trying to wave his umbrella but the bull was so close to the umbrella could not be extended or it would've actually hit him. I really don't know how long the standoff lasted.  It was probably a couple of seconds but in my mind approximately 4.5 days.  He finally turned and wandered up the beach sauntering quite arrogantly. We watched him every step of the way and then kept looking over our shoulders as we booked along as fast as we could. And all of this before 8 a.m.! 

How did your morning go? That will get suggestions from my friend to make some nice big juicy steaks using the s*** that I come from a few. No one else seem to think I was serious. That bull hit me and almost knocked me down hopefully into the water and if he does it again I'm having me a real good dinner. They can deal with it, it's called American justice its called Detroit justice kill and eat them or get killed and be eaten.  The first time I saw a t-shirt with a picture of a handgun and the phrase "Detroit where the weak are killed and eaten" all I could think was "you know that's perfect I want one." Now when people ask what it is like I tell them you know every news article you read? Almost all of those movies in the scary scenes? All the horror stories on the news? They were almost all true and personally I refuse to go any further into Detroit then I have to because I've had to turn my car around and run red lights to get out twice. 

Someday ask Kristin Swihart about the day that she was supposed to be navigating and would up on Mac in a burned out the area of town.  I think we both peed the seats before we got out of there. And it's still not the worst area I've been in. Don't trust GPS units in Detroit. Let's ship that bull to 9 mile and see what happens to it there.  I once got off the WRONG WRONG exit and at a red light scary people came out of shadows and started walking toward my car, the only car on the street, first time in my life I've ever run a red that fast and locked all the doors at the same time..  Damned google navigation systems.

Well there's the latest cow story.