Back at the Firestation

John is looking at me, like when are you going to get dressed so we can hit the road, but I need to get this posted first. Then I'll gladly go. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes. I promise.

When we first arrived in California, we had a grand weekend with Dave and Jeanne. One of the highlights was our trip to the fire station where their son James was taking the place of one of the fire fighters injured in the recent Santa Barbara fires. James is actually the reason our two families are friends.

Way back when Tighe, our oldest, was in seventh grade, he started baseball, and was on a team with James, also playing for the first time. Tighe had been playing basketball since he was old enough to get on a team. Very athletic, he quickly showed himself to be star material. James was very likely the slowest runner on the team, with the poorest batting average, the best attitude and the biggest smile. I fell for that kid over the weeks I sat watching the pre-game practices. As team mother, I didn't miss any of them. Most of the parents wouldn't show up until the real games started.

The afternoon before the first game, I asked James if his mother was going to be at the game. He told me that, of course, she'd be there. I sent him off with a message to her. "Look for the lady in the railroad cap. I'll have an empty lawn chair next to me, just for her." He wanted to know why I'd be bringing a chair for his mother, and I told him the truth, which has lasted to this day. "Anyone who's raised a son like you is someone I want to know.

We've been great friends for over twenty years. Thank you, James. And thanks for taking the photo of me while we were there. He used his cell phone camera. My cell phone can't deal with that sort of thing, so I had him email it to Jeremy, our middle son in Louisiana. He's up on all things text and photo. He forwarded it to my email. You might want to know—that coat weighs a ton. I can't imagine working in it. Firefighters are amazing. James is one of my heroes. He has no idea how often I pray for him, but I think he knows how much I love him.

Homeward Bound

I just finished packing for the trip home. I've never understood how John can sleep while I pack, but I'm glad he can. That means I could stop and watch the Laker's game before finishing. (Great game. Chick Hearn wouldn't have put it "in the fridge" until the last 30 seconds of O.T.)

It's very strange, I suppose, how much easier it is to pack when you're heading home than when you're leaving home. I guess the main difference is that you just get to pack everything rather than figuring out what you need to take and what you don't. The other aspect, of course, is that going home is always such a sweet feeling, no matter how exciting the original destination is. At least it is for us now. I never felt that way when we lived in the suburbs, but life in the foothills is perfect for us.

We love being on the road. Other people race past us, but we don't rush. We love the cruise control. It makes following the speed limits so easy. If that makes us boring, it also helps keep us safe.

We'll leave early tomorrow morning, probably around daybreak, and will make it somewhere across Utah. We don't really set a limit. We drive as long as we're enjoying it. Occasionally we make it to Colorado, but that's stretching it. We'll arrive home on Saturday sometime, and I'll get on the blog to announce our safe arrival.

Not to be morbid, but if something happens on the road, Ruth gets my best guitar and Schmath gets my banjo. Our three sons can have whatever else they want. Happy Trails to us.

LBS

I tell people I've been diagnosed with LBS. It sounds important. A technical term, and an acronym, it nevertheless pretty much controls my life, but I still admit it to my friends. It stands for Leaky Brain Syndrome. I just don't always retain things the way I used to.

If you're still young, and you're laughing at this, just make a mental note of the expression. Some day you might need it—to describe your own mental failings. I know, it'll never happen to you, right? (I think I hear my sons snickering in the background somewhere.) 

I was playing guitar today and couldn't even remember the words to a song I wrote. I only wrote one song, so how hard could it be? Now, that's embarrassing. Um, I think it went like ... well, I guess I forgot the words. They were pretty funny, too, if I remember right. So after a wonderful visit with Chris today, I ended my evening by emailing her an mp3 of me singing the song I couldn't quite remember when we were together today. I guess I need to relearn it. 

LBS. It's hard to get rid of it once you've contracted it. Stuff just leaks out.

California: The Final Week

We're back in the Hotel on base, and today was fairly quiet. Well, it was more spooky than quiet, I guess. We arrived just at seven, meaning John was going to be a little late to work. He figured he'd drop me off and I'd wait in the lobby until about ten or eleven, when the room would be ready. Then I'd call him and he'd run back and check me in. I can't check myself in, since I'm not technically here. I'm a "guest." It's a long story, and rather boring.

When we got here, there were people congregated outside the hotel, talking quietly. We went on in and they immediately said they'd put us in a room immediately. What? Okay, fine with me. I really didn't want to sit in the lobby. Somebody would come clean the room within an hour or two. Was that okay? Sure, fine. Linens had already been changed, but vacuuming still had to be done. (There was coffee in the pot, too, but I didn't see that until they left later.) 

Here's the weird part. The reason they were getting everyone stuck in rooms quickly and quietly was to get them out of the way of the group outside, who were waiting for the coroner to come out. Their mother had died during the night in a tent at the RV park on the other side of the hotel from our room. They were going to check out and went to wake her up when they found her. They were out there for several hours. 

The only other interesting thing that happened was learning that the hotel registration clerk had messed up our dates and we are slated to check out Friday morning, not Saturday. John's work is going very well. Since he's running ahead of schedule, he discussed the situation at work today, and they agreed we can head home Friday. Whoopee! Happy Trails to us. 

Of course, Mom wasn't thrilled to hear I will miss the Friday Bingo games with her, but I'll spend tomorrow afternoon with her. I'm even bringing her a pre-cooked batch of my chicken tacos. All she'll have to do is heat it up, fry the tortillas, and put the sauce on them. First, though, I'm going to sit down and have a nice visit with Christ Francom in the morning. That's been a long time coming. It seems I only get to see her every couple of years for more than a few minutes. That's a shame, since I enjoy her so much.

Tomorrow night we'll cap it off with a visit to John's old college pal, Dan Moretti, and his wife Pat. They visited us in Loveland, and invited us for dinner tomorrow night. (Gee, with Jean, Mom, Ellen, and now Pat all feeding us on this trip, I think we're actually going to end up money ahead—probably pounds ahead, too. Oops.)

I have to admit, this has been a very short trip, but one of the best we've had. Don't worry, Sherrie. I've saved Wednesday for you!

A Weekend With Ellen and Johnny

This is why we came to California. I know. The trip was really for the missiles. It was to see Mom, Jean and Sherrie and touch base with friends. But after less than 24 hours here in Tapo Canyon, in my heart I know that this is why I came willingly. I don't just love my sister. I miss her all the way to my soul.

We can sit next to each other with books on our laps, reading and occasionally saying something to each other, and just feel contented. There's a spark that wasn't there as kids. We were too different then. I was too studious. She was just enough older than I was, that I was "the pest." I loved camping. She didn't. I loved playing the accordion--loudly. (Need I say more?) Now, I wonder if we've changed, or if the differences just don't matter anymore. Perhaps we're still just as different, but we've learned to celebrate the differences... or ignore them. Actually, I guess, we learned somewhere along the way to laugh at them, at ourselves and at each other.

We both turned into good cooks, so no matter whose house we wind up at, we eat very well indeed. Her taco feast last night was excellent, and livened up by the presence of four of her grandchildren. Today we'll cook together, and continue our rambling conversations. It's another visit in a long line of them that are spread too far apart.

Both of us married men named John. Last night my John came to bed really pleased because her John had suggested she come back to our place for another visit soon, since he's too busy to come himself right now. He lives in California, but commutes to Reno for work. Many times he's not even home on weekends lately. He's busy. He's brilliant. They love each other, and it makes me glad. We'll have to figure out when she can come. Luckily, his commuting gives them plenty of frequent flyer miles, so she can fly into Denver for free, and we can swoop down and collect her at the airport.

We'll leave in the morning for our final week of John working at the base. Then Saturday we'll head home. At least that's the plan now. Plans can change, I realize, but life is good. I'll be glad to walk in my own door, but I wouldn't have missed this weekend for the world.

Life in the Hotel

Tomorrow I'll have the car, but yesterday and today I sat in the hotel. It's amazing how much I actually got done. I was too busy writing and working on my audio book downloads to even blog last night. I fell asleep. Bad mama. 

It's great having the laptop with me. I have one of those tiny little 500 gig removable drives with my iTunes library on it. I used Mom's library card and borrowed ten audio books on Tuesday, and got nine of them downloaded onto my system. The other one kept skipping, and I finally gave up on it. I'll return them all tomorrow. I've already "read" all the ones on disc at our own library. Actually, it's probably time to see if they've gotten any new ones.

I used to think audio books were just for blind people. After the neurologist told me to listen to three hours a day after my long seizures, I found out how expensive they were to buy. I still budgeted in more than I should have, but borrowed constantly from the library. I also collected coupons and rented from the local Cracker Barrel. 

I was told about the government program, once called Books for the Blind, and got the paperwork for that. Unfortunately, the only physical disability they accept is if you're incapable of holding a book. I suppose I could have my neurologist fight that, since I know someone else who is on the program because her back hurts and she walks with a cane. I haven't figured that one out yet. I'm glad she got on the program, but it doesn't help me. We live too far apart.

Tomorrow I'll do my running around in the morning. I have to visit Lisa to pick up the pennies I left on her couch (pressed souvenir pennies from Ben and Ruth for John). Luckily she's up by 7:30. Then I'll run over to the Assisted Living facility to see if I left my music book there the last time I played for them. If it's not there, then I'm out of ideas. I'm sick about that one. I also want to run by to see Chris Francom, if she's home, and then I'll meet up with Mom. (Do you really care what I plan to do?)

Needless to say, I won't be sitting in the room tomorrow. I miss my view. Our first week is nearly done. My only disappointment, and it's big, is that Schmath flies in the day we drive out. Bummer. No baby hug. 

On the Base

John's at work, and I'm doing my first blog from the Beach Hotel, on base. The room is snug. That means that, although it's small, it has all we need. California weather is at its finest from my point of view. They call it June gloom, but I love the fog and damp. My body complains, but my brain loves it for some strange reason. 

Tonight we'll have dinner with Mom and catch up on the last several months of her life. Of course, we speak on the phone all the time, but it's never the same. After dinner, we'll run by the grocery store for bread and a few other items that wouldn't pack easily. Most of the food we'll eat this week was brought along to save money, food being much cheaper in Colorado. I just hate squashed bread. Being on base allows John to come to the room for lunch. On Tuesdays and Fridays, though, I have the car and pack him a lunch, so I'll get the bread tonight and make sure he's got enough food to enjoy during the day. Then tomorrow I'll stop by to visit Lisa in the morning, spend some time at the library, and then play bingo in the afternoon with Mom.

Our visit with Jean and Dave Roscoe this weekend was great. It's been too long since we've had time to really sit down and reminisce with them about when our kids were young together. We've known each other about 25 years, so there's a lot of fun and history to share when we have time. John and Dave spent yesterday out on Dave's boat on Lake Casitas. They didn't catch anything, and had a great time doing it.

Ben called this morning before we left their house, telling us of their trip to Belgium. It sounds like they had a wonderful weekend. It's always wonderful when a young family can have such great adventures together. Their kids might be too young to really remember riding in a a horse drawn carriage in Brussels or Bruges, or wherever that was, but they'll never forget that their family always had fun together. Now that Ben's done with his Master's Degree, he has more time for fun. The evenings of studying and weekends of classes are behind them. If I sound proud, well, I just can't help it. It's not so much what he's done as that he's done so much without compromising his priorities.

Time to finish emptying suitcases into drawers for the week ahead. That's always so much fun, but I've procrastinated enough.