LifePundit

Is it Just Me, or Do These Designs Make You Sea Sick?

I've been on two cruises, both on Norwegian Cruise Lines, and found much to like about cruising. If I had my druthers, I'd go stay at a beachfront resort somewhere where the water is turquoise blue (it's greenish-navy off the S.C. coast, which is still nice) rather than cruising with just a "drive by" encounter with the beaches. But my druthers are frequently not the guiding force behind our decision making, and we've found that NCL cruises out of Charleston are a deal. Fun, too.

So I'm on NCL's mailing list and I actually read the e-mails. I'm all set to go again, whether this is first druthers or second druthers, I don't care. Both cruises were about as relaxing a time as you can get. (Whereas if I were at a beachfront resort, I'd have much exploring and other things on my agenda to keep me busy instead of just unplugging.)

Anyway, I do get seasick. Not easily, but eventually. I can feel it coming on and take measures to prevent it, so it's all good. (Fresh ginger, ginger ale and seasick pills all work, depending on how bad it is.)

But just looking at the new room designs (click on photo above) in NCL's new ships makes me somewhat seasick. I mean, they're all wavy and curvy. Really pretty and much nicer than the rooms we had, but I think straight lines have a place on a ship. Something to stare at and give you hope that there are straight lines and flat plains somewhere in the world for those times when the ginger ale isn't quite working. I'd hate to be on that round bed with the ship tossing.

Though I'll certainly give it a try at the first opportunity.

Is it just me? Click here to see more. (This is not an ad.)

Crocodile Captured Swimming with Tourists at S.C. Beach

South Carolina has too many alligators (for the most amazing photo, click here). Now they're going to the beaches. That's right. Just when you thought it was safe to go in the water, a six-foot long crocodile turns up. Yes, right in the surf on S.C.'s Isle of Palms, a beach outside of Charleston. Hundreds of people were ordered out of the ocean.

This isn't even a local 'gator. It's a tourist 'gator. I've waterskied past native alligators in brackish water (and didn't dare let go of the ski rope), I've been afraid they might be under the bed when I was a kid but I have never, ever worried about an crocodile eating me in the ocean. That's the shark's job. And I thought alligators didn't "do" salt water.

But this one did. That's because it's a rare American Crocodile, native from the Florida Keys to Florida Bay. Officials are speculating that someone either released it illegally or it swam up from Florida. For the complete story, which is about as informative as this post, click here.

When Are We Going to Panama?

It's back. My father called me tonight to tell me to make arrangements for us to go to Panama. The Panama Canal, the thing I've heard of all my life. That's where he was stationed during WWII. Please note that it wasn't bombed or destroyed, so he obviously did a good job of protecting it.

He's always wanted to go back and renewed his passport when he hit 92, but didn't have time to go then. He says that if we schedule it around the things that are growing in his garden (such as the 150 tomato plants for a man who lives in assisted living, gets three meals a day and doesn't like tomatoes), he can go in the next few months. I'm to go with him, as is anyone else who wants to go.

What a happy fantasy! I would love to go with him. I'd love him to show me where he was stationed, ride through the locks with him and let him explain how they work -- and what's changed. I've even gotten him to agree to go on a cruise ship, not some little boat and go hiking through the jungle to find his old camp.

Now he can't walk from his room to my mother's without stopping three times to rest. He can't go anywhere without his oxygen. I called him the other night and he fell trying to answer the phone. He uses a cane, sometimes uses a walker and is always supposed to use a wheelchair. He can't button his own shirts, but he can strip the leaves off of baby tomato plants and hand them to Ike to be planted.

Except for grandiose expectations for what he can do, he's as sharp as ever. I'll go through the motions of planning the trip. I'll give him options. We'll talk about it. Maybe this fantasy will be good therapy for both of us.

Too bad we didn't do it decades ago. I doubt he can leave Mama for that long. And I doubt it would be responsible of me to take him (plus driving him to church and back is grueling -- not sure about a week on a ship).

Would an airline even take somebody way past worn out? I have a feeling that cruise ships would, because I've seen their rickety old passengers. And if it's too much for him, well, at least he was doing what he wanted to do. Or, what if it is too much and he is miserable and scared the whole time and it makes him worse without giving him a good experience?

He'll be 96 in August. He wasn't expected to live until July 2007 (he doesn't know this). He's squeezing every drop he can out of life. Maybe he'll make it to Panama. Maybe he'll even make it back. But then what?

Cabo San Lucas: Ever Notice No One is in the Water?

Here's a picture of the famous arch in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. You've probably seen it before, along with other photos of the area's absolutely gorgeous beaches.

Looks like a great place to go for a tropical getaway, right? And indeed it is. But one thing that was a surprise to Paul (and no doubt to other people) when he got to go there on business is that it is illegal to go in the ocean. Yes, there was even an armed guard to keep the tourists out of the ocean. Terrible rip currents.

The things you don't know to ask. It's still beautiful. Just not quite what you might expect from an ocean resort.

Change Lanes Slowly When Driving

I apologize in advance for back-seat driving here at LifePundit, and I'm sure my readers are too smart to need this advice, but here I go. When you're driving and need to change lanes, Change Lanes Slowly.

Don't whip from your lane to another, even if you're in a sports car and it's fun to do. Change Lanes Slowly.

Here's why:

1. Maybe someone is in your blind spot. If you change lanes slowly, they'll see you coming and can either brake or honk at you and give you the finger. The finger isn't my favorite thing, but I'd rather get it than have a wreck with its owner and get to meet a person comfortable with his/her right to self-expression. Especially when the collision is my fault.
2. If you're changing lanes in front of someone who can't stop quickly, such as a heavily laden truck or a woman pulling a horse in a trailer behind her (did you know if you make her slam on brakes, the horse can get hurt falling forward? Plus, if she slams on brakes and the person behind her is too close, they can rear-end the trailer and kill the horse? Don't you pull out in front of me when I'm trailering and make me throw down my horse!)
3. If you lane-hop in front of someone who can't stop quickly you could get killed -- or get them killed.

Two examples. A few years ago a driver on I-26 abruptly changed lanes to avoid a dog. The 18-wheeler traveling in the lane she hopped into swerved to avoid her, lost control of his truck, and overturned, blocking the highway for hours (this is what happened according to witnesses). I'm not sure that the person who caused the accident was even aware of what she had done. The truck driver's legs were crushed, but emergency crews had to be careful cutting him out because the truck was carrying fuel and their was the potential for explosion. They ended up having to amputate the truck driver's legs on the scene. He died on the flight to the hospital.

Okay, so the lady didn't hit the dog. But a man died a terrible death.

And it happened again yesterday. A Honda quickly lane-hopped in front of a cement truck on I-26. The cement truck couldn't stop and ran over them. The cement filled the Honda and buried the three passengers. It took 20 people with shovels to get them out. The two people in the front seat are dead. The passenger in the backseat is in critical condition. The tragic story is here.

Teach your children: Change Lanes Slowly When Driving. The lane may not be as clear as you think, and not everybody can stop as quickly as you can.

Spring Break at Home

This is a photo of Grand Cayman's Sting Ray City. One day I'll post about that and use photos of my own. Incredible experience! And not one that we had on Spring Break 2008.

I'm back! In spite of my belief (not shared by others in my family) that I should be going somewhere for Spring Break, we stayed here. It was fantastic!

Monday: I should have been on the Norwegian Majesty. It would have been a relaxing day at sea. Instead, I finished a couple of freelance projects that shouldn't have spilled over into this week -- and went horseback riding with Lily. I realized that yes, it is okay to be at home and not work.

Tuesday: I should have been putting on my swimsuit and heading to the tenders to catch a ride to Grand Cayman, so far my favorite island (other than Maui, which is just too far). Instead, Lily and I are stripping horse stalls.

That means we are removing all the bedding and manure down to the ground. We even remove some of the ground. Saintly Brother's wife (who is fun rather than saintly) came over to get a truckload of manure. She helped. So did the horses. It wasn't a day spent on a sunny beach, but it was a day of improving  weather and wonderful company. And great accomplishment. I hurt all over. My soul is probably happier than if I had been lolling about on a beach.

Wednesday: I should be getting ready to go snorkeling in Cozumel. Instead, I'm putting on the same dirty jeans to go finish the stalls, including getting fresh bedding. And I haul Buddy and Lily out to a place in the country where they have a wonderful ride with an old friend. The day  gets prettier by the hour. I start getting ambitious about spring planting.  We begin re-organizing the tack room. Saintly Brother's wife comes back for another truckload of manure. So nice to make somebody so happy with, well, manure.

Thursday: I should be relaxing at sea. Probably taking a long walk on the Promenade Deck and watching the porpoises and the flying fish. Or even spotting a sea turtle. Instead, I'm completely lost on what to do about the tack room. We drag everything out in the yard, go to Lowe's to get some additional hooks and storage drawers, and I wonder if it is even possible to straighten out this mess. The weather is beautiful and says, "Plant tomatoes and flowers," but I resist. One thing at a time. To my shock, the tack room begins to take shape. There's still more in the yard than the room, but it's coming. Lily has to go to a piano thing and it's quite a shock to me that the whole family expects to eat supper. I feed them something. I should be deciding which restaurant I want to eat in on the ship. We watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I'm exhausted and sleep really well.

Friday: I should be putting on my comfy walking shoes and getting ready for Key West. Instead, we really do finish up the tack room. More or less. Lily and I are quite happy. We keep going down to the tack room to look at how good it looks, and think of ways to make it better. The temperature hits 81 and we're reminded that summer's coming. We have lots of mother-daughter talks and I am in heaven.

Saturday: We should be coming home from the cruise. And the stalls and the tack room would still be a mess. Instead, I'm already home. But now I get my heart broken. Lily, my fun companion, vacation friend and dear daughter suggests, "Let's see if there are any good movies on."

"Great," I say. I love movies. I especially love to go to movies with her.

"And you can drop (friend's name) and me off there and pick us up later," she says. Not even realizing.

Yes, I'm lucky. I had a week with my newly teenaged daughter and we had a great time and got a lot done. Now, she's just doing her job. She's growing up. That's a blessing, too, though perhaps not one I'm ready for.

Those of Us with a Lot of Baggage Have a New Problem

I'm sorry. I don't know what to pack. So I pack everything. This provides me great consolation and is my right as an over-consuming American. I'd like to be different. But not really. Plus, I always take books. Lots of heavy books. And things to write with and on. All this is heavy.

I also take my own snorkeling stuff. Do you really think I'm going to rent something that you put in your mouth? That everybody else puts in their mouths? And then suck on it and breathe through it. Oh please!

And then there's the vacation mentality. I work in my pajamas (not really. My gym clothes). So, when I go on vacation, it's kind of fun to put on things that match and could be considered fashionable if the Mom Jeans Police would just go somewhere else for vacation. And then, what if Paul decides to surprise me with dinner somewhere fancy? (Hasn't happened yet, but I need to be ready.) I'll need several really cute outfits and matching shoes to choose from, depending on the fanciness of the place.

Those spoilsports, the airlines, must be conspiring with Paul to get me to take less luggage. I'm sorry, but I'm not nude beach material and I don't want to look at you naked, either. I need all those bathing suits and matching coverups. Coverups are good. So is all that heavy sunscreen, which is much cheaper at my Wal-Mart than at the Wal-Mart at St. Barts.

Baggage charges feel like an insult. What are the airlines going to do next? Eliminate the bathrooms on flights?

This from today's Wall Street Journal:

Spring Break

This is not an ad though it may sound like one. Spring Break is coming and do I ever want to go somewhere! For the last two Spring Breaks we've taken a Norwegian Cruise Line cruise out of Charleston, S.C., down to Grand Cayman, Cozumel and Key West. The first time we went it was just Lily and me because Paul had to go to Switzerland. (Here's a photo of her standing on the front of the ship -- she was 11 years old and her clothes were about to blow off. We got a terrible case of the giggles.) We did the same cruise last year but added Paul, a friend and the friend's daughter. So much fun!

I never thought I'd like cruising but it was wonderful because it really is enforced rest. You are completely unplugged. It takes a little while for the unplugging to become pleasant. At first you don't know what to do and you feel like you should be doing something. Then it becomes clear: you should be doing whatever you want.

I can handle that. (By the way, the reason there are no beach photos is because I didn't take my camera with us to Grand Cayman and Cozumel since I didn't have anyone to leave it with when it was just Lily and me, and last year's pictures got zapped when somebody-who-will-not-be-named-but-wasn't-me plugged the camera into the wrong computer to download the photos. My father said that wiping out all my photos was justification for me getting taken BACK on the trip to re-take them, but somehow that's not happening. I wouldn't be posting photos of me in my bikini anyway. Especially since I wouldn't be caught dead in one.)

We're not going anywhere this year and I'm feeling very deprived. (Funny how something like a special treat of a trip can feel like something you should do every year.) 

On the way to school this morning I asked Lily what she wants to do for Spring Break. She said, "Stay home."

Well, that makes one of us. She wants to ride every day. She rides every day as it is, except for Wednesday, which is Buddy's day off. What cracks me up is that my father can't remember my birthday these days but he calls on Wednesdays to remind me that it's Buddy's day off.

If any body has any fun ideas for what to do at home on Spring Break, please tell me. The last time we stayed home Tiger caught a baby bunny and we had to go to the wildlife rescue place with the lady with possums in her hair, Paul's lawnmower caught fire and Lily got to call 911 for the first time because Paul and I were connecting the water hoses so they'd reach to the barn, where it was parked and where the hay is stored. And there were several other mishaps I've repressed. Maybe it's not safe to be here! Maybe I should go somewhere with room service.

But we'll be staying here, riding and maybe making towel animals. I'll certainly be turning down my sheets and putting a mint on my pillow.

Answer to "Who's That Statue?"

Here's the answer to Name That Statue.

Okay, yesterday I posted that I am a former member of the Children of the Confederacy. I guess if I had stayed in I would have one day been a Daughter of the Confederacy. I have no idea. I'm not a joiner unless I'm in fifth grade and think it's a dog-training club.

The Civil War wiped out most of the males of fighting age in my family tree. My mother's grandfather (or was it great grandfather?) was a POW when the war ended and had to walk home to S.C. from Virginia. My mother said he used to tell these boring war stories and they would nod their heads and say "uh huh" and pretend to be interested and probably were day dreaming about teaching their dogs tricks or something. (She often regretted that she hadn't listened.)

On the other side of the family, a grandfather with a great or two was too old to fight, so he was home trying to feed his family by scraping out some kind of living from the rocky soil of Kershaw County, S.C., when some of Sherman's men came through. Sherman's raiders, assisted by the family dog who had been taught to catch chickens, took what little my family had. My however-many-greats grandfather tried to stop the dog, and ended up falling in the mud, to much ridicule by the Yankee soldiers. At least they didn't burn down the farmhouse, which my father owns and loves. He spent his summers there as a boy.

Columbia, the city I grew up in, was burned by Sherman's troops. There are bronze stars marking the spots where Sherman's cannonballs hit the State House, which was under construction at the time. The devastation of Sherman's march took this area 100 years to get over.

So who was the man riding the horse at the entrance to Central Park? General William Tecumseh Sherman.

I hope you can read the inscription by clicking on the photo of the statue's base.

I'm glad the U.S. is a single, mostly united country. I think Abraham Lincoln is one of our greatest presidents. Slavery is an abomination. There is much that is wrong with the South (and the North). But there is just something unbelievably eerie about seeing a giant, golden statue erected to honor the man who burned your city (and others) and whose troops robbed your impoverished civilian family and humiliated your however-many-greats grandfather for trying to save his chickens.

I'm Not Finished with Key West

This is a paid post and a true story. I've been to Key West twice and I need to go back again. I'm not finished with Key West. Lily, Paul and I had a great time there last spring when our cruise ship stopped for too few hours. We absolutely loved Cat Man (See photos, which Lily took -- yes the cats jump through flaming hoops. It's like a lion act at the circus, but with house cats. Cat Man has a web site.), watching the sunset and the street performers, and eating chocolate-covered frozen Key Lime Pie on a stick. (One of the best things I've ever eaten in my life.)

We took Trusted Tours and Attractions' Conch Tour Train (photo of the marker showing the southernmost point in the U.S.A. taken from the train), which was a great way to get a feel for this fascinating place, but we weren't there long enough for me to see all the things I wanted to see. The next time I go I'm going to stay there long enough to see: Ernest Hemingway's house (though we did see it from the Conch Train), the Shipwreck Historeum, the Aquarium,the Little White House, the Pirate Museum, the Butterfly Conservatory and even go snorkeling.

And now that I know what I'm doing (as much as ever), I'm going to get my discount tickets to these places and more from Trusted Tours and Attractions.