It's a pleasure to pack for a trip when you're going by car. You don't care how many ounces your liquids are. You don't care how much luggage you take or how much it weighs, as long as you can carry it to the trunk. And the overhead bin is your back seat as long as no one is sitting there.
The driveway is your runway and your schedule is your own. There's no gate check-in and you are free to depart whenever you want to leave. The only clearance you need is from your co-pilot who runs down the checklist.
Hotel Reservations: Check.
Maps: Check
Gas: Check
Directions: Check
Glasses: Check
Snacks (free): Check
Pillows (also free): Check
Beverages (yes, free): Check
Mosquito repellant: Check
Flashlights: Check
Binoculars: Check
Books, CDs, iPod: Check
House keys: Check
Credit Cards: Check
Cash: Not so much but, yes, Check.
Did we forget anything? We'll find out when we get there.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Tennis Anyone? Anyone?
As we get on in years (I hate to say older) it's getting harder and harder to get a fourth for tennis. We are long past playing singles.
One guy has shoulder problems. Another has knee problems. One fellow is away at the shore on weekends, limiting his availability. One of our stalwarts has frequent family obligations which takes him out of town.
I was out for almost six months with bursitis in the hip but I'm back now and it's still hard to get four guys who are available at the same time on the same day.
Three of us have been playing together for more than 20 years now. At one time we had a field of six and sometimes seven to choose from. One by one players dropped by the wayside. Now we are three octogenarians looking for a fourth player. He could be younger than us. We're an equal opportunity group.
The funny thing is we still feel we play a competitive game. B caliber, maybe. We like the game, the companionship and we have fun. And we go for coffee and muffins afterward. That may be the best part.
Black, no sugar, please.
One guy has shoulder problems. Another has knee problems. One fellow is away at the shore on weekends, limiting his availability. One of our stalwarts has frequent family obligations which takes him out of town.
I was out for almost six months with bursitis in the hip but I'm back now and it's still hard to get four guys who are available at the same time on the same day.
Three of us have been playing together for more than 20 years now. At one time we had a field of six and sometimes seven to choose from. One by one players dropped by the wayside. Now we are three octogenarians looking for a fourth player. He could be younger than us. We're an equal opportunity group.
The funny thing is we still feel we play a competitive game. B caliber, maybe. We like the game, the companionship and we have fun. And we go for coffee and muffins afterward. That may be the best part.
Black, no sugar, please.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Two to Muddle
We have come to the conclusion that it takes two of us just to muddle through the blips of the day.
For example: the emoticons. I said the other day I used one in a text message but had no idea where it came from in my cell phone. Today, while resolving the phantom phone calls issue, my wife came across the combination of keys that produce the smiley faces. Who knows when I'll ever use one again but at least now I know how. If I can remember.
The phantom phone calls have been eliminated by moving my speed dial number away from the the lock/unlock key and leaving my former number unassigned. I'm embarrassed it took two of us to figure that one out.
Now comes Wells Fargo which has been digesting its merger/takeover of Wachovia bank about as long as it takes a snake to gorge on a fat pig. I get notices in the mail and on line that this and that is going to happen and I should be prepared, etc., etc. Happen, already, I say.
If it's too big to digest, take smaller bites. Or spit it out and try something tastier. Nah, that won't happen.
So that brings you up to date on my cell phone issues. As for Wells Fargo, Giddyap guys.
For example: the emoticons. I said the other day I used one in a text message but had no idea where it came from in my cell phone. Today, while resolving the phantom phone calls issue, my wife came across the combination of keys that produce the smiley faces. Who knows when I'll ever use one again but at least now I know how. If I can remember.
The phantom phone calls have been eliminated by moving my speed dial number away from the the lock/unlock key and leaving my former number unassigned. I'm embarrassed it took two of us to figure that one out.
Now comes Wells Fargo which has been digesting its merger/takeover of Wachovia bank about as long as it takes a snake to gorge on a fat pig. I get notices in the mail and on line that this and that is going to happen and I should be prepared, etc., etc. Happen, already, I say.
If it's too big to digest, take smaller bites. Or spit it out and try something tastier. Nah, that won't happen.
So that brings you up to date on my cell phone issues. As for Wells Fargo, Giddyap guys.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Cellepathy (sell-eh'-pathy,n.)
That's the art of making a cell phone call without touching any buttons or saying anything to your phone. It just does it on its own.
How do I know this? Let me count the ways. In the last few days my wife has called me on my cell without any idea she has made the call. Tonight, it happened twice as I was sitting next to her at our patio table having dinner with friends.
“Why are you calling me,” I asked? “I'm right here.” Giggles and puzzled looks ensue. Then laughter. A few minutes later my cell rings telling me I have voice mail. I listen and hear my wife talking with our diner guests about how her phone makes these calls while in her pocket.
I hand her my phone so she can hear herself talking to the friends, not to me. “I hate the sound of my voice,” she says, laughing. I erase the voice mail.
When she keeps the phone in her pocket and leans a certain way the phone speed dials my mobile number, which is a single digit near the bottom of the instrument. What makes it puzzling is that the keypad is supposed to be “locked” when these calls are made.
I just tried to make a call with the keypad locked and it wouldn't work. How does my wife's cell unlock its keypad and make a call? Either the cell phone genie is unlocking my wife's phone or she has developed a multi-tasking lean, first unlock, then call me.
Cellepathy.
How do I know this? Let me count the ways. In the last few days my wife has called me on my cell without any idea she has made the call. Tonight, it happened twice as I was sitting next to her at our patio table having dinner with friends.
“Why are you calling me,” I asked? “I'm right here.” Giggles and puzzled looks ensue. Then laughter. A few minutes later my cell rings telling me I have voice mail. I listen and hear my wife talking with our diner guests about how her phone makes these calls while in her pocket.
I hand her my phone so she can hear herself talking to the friends, not to me. “I hate the sound of my voice,” she says, laughing. I erase the voice mail.
When she keeps the phone in her pocket and leans a certain way the phone speed dials my mobile number, which is a single digit near the bottom of the instrument. What makes it puzzling is that the keypad is supposed to be “locked” when these calls are made.
I just tried to make a call with the keypad locked and it wouldn't work. How does my wife's cell unlock its keypad and make a call? Either the cell phone genie is unlocking my wife's phone or she has developed a multi-tasking lean, first unlock, then call me.
Cellepathy.
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