What Love Looks Like at 76
I’m on my way down to restock the Little Free Library and pass AdventureMan, who always asks me why I love him. It’s hard to keep it fresh. It’s hard to find new answers to that question, but this time, it’s right there in front of me.
“Who likes to clean out the litter box?” I ask. He looks puzzled.
“No-one!” I answer my own question, but I continue “I love you because you clean out the litter box in hot humid weather, even when you don’t want to, and give the cats a nice clean place to poop! I love you because you do it faithfully, and I don’t have to do it! It’s not romantic, but I consider it TRUE LOVE!”
It makes him laugh. I am not the romantic young bride he met in Heidelberg and married six weeks later. I am pragmatic and grounded. I know what matters.
We have always had cats. I used to do the litter boxes, and when I got pregnant, he took it over because pregnant women can get a disease that can infect the baby. Around when our son turned 18 he had a perplexed look on his face and asked me “just how long after the baby is born can you scoop litter again?” and we both laughed.
True love is bigger than diamonds or white roses or wonderful perfume. True love is scooping the cat litter and cleaning out the litter boxes. Thank you, AdventureMan.
“We Call Her Meanie”
We are sitting in our backyard with our neighbor, Marvin’s person, and I asked her if she had ever had any other cats, or knew of any other cats in our neighborhood, who were neutered and microchipped but didn’t seem to belong to anyone. I had my reasons.
She named a couple – Cindy Clawford, and one we call Fuzzy Tail, and Goblin. And then she says
“And there was one, we call her Meanie, who used to hang around, but I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
I didn’t say anything. “Meanie” is likely the cat who bit my hand the first time I fed her, she was so hungry and had no manners. I had to have antibiotics for the first time in 30 years, and a shot of some kind. She wanted to live with us but she was too feral. She lived outside for a year.
It was a very very hot summer, and she had a thick fur coat. When Goblin or another cat would go after her, she would run to the drain in the street and hide inside. We were terrified we would find her body in the street one day. And it was hot, too hot for her to live on our porch living in a fur coat. AdventureMan wanted to bring her in. She adored him.
A friend helped us trap her to get her neutered – and we discovered she was already neutered and chipped, but had no registered owner.
“Meanie” was a scary cat. You couldn’t move too fast or she would hiss, and occasionally lash out with her sharp claws, or even bite. We have to keep the door closed between the front and back areas of our house so she won’t attack our two very domestic male cats. Slowly, slowly, we have gained her trust and she is learning manners which are more suitable for living with people. We have taught her to cuddle, by moving slowly with her. She no longer bites. She no longer uses her sharp claws, except to knead when she is cuddling, purring and happy. (Ouch!)
We call her Zenobia, after the warrior queen of the Syrian desert, who ruled in Palmyra.
Ghosted – A Happy Ending
Our housekeeper, staying in our house as we travel, sent this photo to us the day after we left Pensacola. This old, wobbly, emaciated cat showed up hungry! She fed him and asked me what we wanted to do.
We’ve never seen this cat before. We have a flock of known outdoor cats we help, and this isn’t one of them. This cat appears wretched. We asked that she continue to feed him, and add some beef broth to make sure he gets enough hydration. She checks with a mutual friend, a cat consultant with Everett Animal Welfare group, who gives us advice.
When we return, he is still alive, and looking a little better, we think. We take him to the vet; the vet requires a name and we decide to call him Sunny, for his always loving and uncomplaining personality.
The vet has sad news. He runs all the tests, the cat is negative for feline AIDS, and other diseases, but his thyroid is shot and his kidneys are on their last legs. He is not microchipped. There is nothing the vet can do, and he tells us to make Sunny comfortable and enjoy these last weeks of his life.
Sunny can barely walk, but he doesn’t know he is sick. He bleeds from the mouth, his teeth hurt him so we buy him special food. He never tucks right into his food, he always politely demands we pet him around the head and scratch under his chin. He rolls on the ground and fondles our shoes. Then he eats. And eats. And eats. He also drinks, but because he is so arthritic, we provide a bucket for him so he doesn’t have to bend down. We are happy, because while he is not strong, he does not appear terminal, and he does not appear to have pain, other than he can barely walk.
And then, last night, he disappeared.
From the day he came, he has not moved around too much, other than to be a little private in his eliminations. When we leave, we always check to see where he is and run for the car. Sometimes, if he is under AdventureMan’s car, we take my car. He is always there, and rises to greet us when we return. He greeted us when we returned from lunch yesterday. I saw him sleeping around 3. And then, we never saw him again.
He didn’t show up for his dinner (!!!) and he wasn’t helping AdventureMan with watering the plants. He was gone, as mysteriously as he had appeared. Ghosted.
He broke AdventureMan’s heart, who had quickly bonded with Sunny. He was up and down all night, checking hopefully to see if he had returned. I was sure he would show up this morning, hungry for breakfast, but no Sunny.
I was just putting away the ironing board when AdventureMan came running out this morning saying “You are NOT going to believe this.” He had his phone in his hand, but I thought maybe he had seen Sunny outside. No, he hadn’t. But he had sent a text to our up-the-hill neighbor, asking her to keep an eye out for this emaciated old cat we had been taking care of.
Her response was astonishing. “That’s Marvin!” she texted. He had disappeared when we left for Paris, and they had been looking for him. Then they got really sick with COVID and had to take care of themselves and lost hope of ever seeing Marvin again. And Marvin returned home yesterday!
I remembered Marvin – a big, fat, fluffy cat who ran around their yard in the company of their ancient aunt, who adored him. That this tiny (maybe 3 – 4 pounds) cat could be Marvin was a shocker, but happy news.
This Sunny, who turns out to be Marvin, is safely home. No wonder he is such a happy cat – he is 18 years old and has been loved all his life. His appearance at our house was a mystery – how could such a weak cat get to our house? Could he have been dumped? The mystery is solved, our neighbor is ecstatic, and we are happy to know that Sonny/Marvin will live and end his life in comfort and a loving environment. She’s glad he was taken care of during the weeks of is absence. I call that a happy ending.
There’s No Such Thing as Heat Lightning
Waiting for a lane to open at the Y, my friend and I are looking out the giant windows at the sky, which is violently beautiful.
“I was surrounded by heat lightning this morning, ” I said, “In every direction!”
And my friend started laughing. He laughed so hard, he was bent over.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, fully confused.
“There’s no such thing as heat lightning,” he gasped, “and I just had this same exact conversation with my Lady Love.”
I started to indignantly deny what he was saying, but he is smart, very smart. He might be wrong, but (and I laugh as I say it) I am going to the internet to see what the internet experts say.
This is what those fraudsters at Weather.gov say:
Heat Lightning
Weather.gov > Safety > Heat Lightning
The term heat lightning is commonly used to describe lightning from a distant thunderstorm just too far away to see the actual cloud-to-ground flash or to hear the accompanying thunder.
While many people incorrectly think that heat lightning is a specific type of lightning, it is simply the light produced by a distant thunderstorm.
Often, mountains, hills, trees or just the curvature of the earth prevent the observer from seeing the actual lightning flash. Instead, the faint flash seen by the observer is light being reflected off higher-level clouds. Also, the sound of thunder can only be heard for about 10 miles from a flash.
A Bientôt Paris!
We have a family joke – I have an alarm on my phone; I find it very gentle, it is called “Twinkle” and sounds like little stars coming out. That’s how it sounds to me. I use it all the time, and my husband will yell “Time to hustle the bags out to the car!” He hates Twinkle, it reminds him of all our very early morning scrambles to get to the airport, turn in our rental car, lug our baggage to check-in, and all that jazz.
We have an early flight, so when we hear Twinkle, we are up and ready. Our bags are packed. We might wait for a baggage person, but it is 4:45 a.m and our car is due at 5:00 so we take our own bags down (I am proud; I have lived this entire trip out of one carry-on suitcase and one personal item/bag.)
We did the right thing. We awakened the baggage person and the desk clerk; I don’t think they would have awakened us or come for our bags. Our car showed up exactly on time (a Mercedes this time, thank you Tauck, but not a Tesla) and we got to the airport in record time.
We got to the airport and went to line up at Air France and a beautiful airport Air France person asked to see our tickets, and said “Oh! You are on our partner, Delta! Not here! I invite you to walk just over there and you can arrange for your flight!”
So French! Not to be directed, not to be told, but to be INVITED to go elsewhere. We loved it.
We checked our bags, full of dirty laundry, who cares if they don’t show up on time? And we headed to the Air France lounge, which evidently IS a part of the partnership, even if we have to check in elsewhere.
The Air France lounge is huge. The buffet is lavish. The drinks are set out and available at oh-dark-hundred in the morning. There are even showers, if I needed another shower.
We boarded on time, but our flight was late leaving because while boarding, one of the passengers tripped and fell and had to be taken to the hospital, which also required his bags be removed, and it all took time. They made up most of the time, we got to Atlanta in time to catch our Pensacola flight and our son was at the airport to transport us home.
You know me. I’m a happy kind of person. I had a great time; this trip was perfect. I wept. I didn’t want it to end, and I didn’t want to leave France.
Paris, Le Train Bleu, and Adieu
We have just enough time when we get back to the Napoleon Hotel to wash up and head right back out again to catch the Metro to Le Gare du Lyon where we have a reservation for lunch at Le Train Bleu. This is where those Navigo Easy Pass cards come in so handy – no stopping to buy tickets, we already have trips loaded on our cards.
We have noticed some changes – look at this metro car – can you see how clean it is? This is not the metro I remember. I never saw a busker, not a singer, not a violin player. The French, except for one snooty shoe saleswoman, were infallibly polite and welcoming. People who waited on us in restaurants, even waiting on people with children, were patient and kind. We wondered if there had been a campaign to train people in preparation for the Olympics?
We don’t like to be late, so we often arrive too early. Never mind, there are always things to look at, and this train station, Le Gare du Lyon, is full of interesting sights and people.
One group of well-dressed, attractive young women were handing people something – religious tracts? bracelets? something for “free” but they also wanted to talk, and we could tell that the talk was about making a donation. We had heard of this technique, but this was the only time we saw it happen. We think maybe the heavy police presence in Paris has deterred a certain amount of begging and scamming, maybe even the pick-pocketing.
AdventureMan is hungry; he checks at Le Train Bleu to see if we can get in a little earlier than our reservation, and the answer is a very gracious “Yes!” We love the location of our table, on the side of the restaurant looking out, but with a good view of the entire (huge) restaurant.
I knew what I wanted – Paté to start, and a salad for my main course. AdventureMan also had the paté and then a fish, with a sauce.
It was a lovely celebratory meal, in a glorious location. Well done, AdventureMan!
We wandered back to the hotel, repacked our bags for the following day, napped a little, and then had another small supper at Chez Barbara’s.
Farewell Tauck Ms. Sapphire, A Bientôt ma Famille
When we awaken, we are in Paris. I didn’t know we would be gathering for breakfast, but breakfast was one of our favorite meals and we did. AdventureMan wanted one last fresh squeezed orange juice and croissant, and N wanted one more cinnamon waffle with whipped cream. I had, I am not kidding, French Toast, also with whipped cream, a luxury I never allow myself in “real life.”
And while we ate really well this entire trip, when I get home, I find I have been so busy that I didn’t gain weight, I lost weight. I need to spend more time in France.
We gather in the lounge after our bags are packed and left in the hallway to be picked up. The good thing is that we can see the bags in the desk area, so we know they are tagged and will be safely delivered to our transportation.
We are tied up on the outside, next to another boat. To get to our rides we will go out the door, up the stairs, across the deck, down the stairs and down the gangplank. You can see the lights of other ship through the windows.
Our transportation comes, and we say farewell and head our separate ways, sadly, because this has been a great trip and we hate for it to end.
Our son and his family head to the airport for their flight. AdventureMan and I head back to the Napoleon Hotel, to catch up with ourselves and to have a combination 51st wedding anniversary and trip celebration dinner at a restaurant my husband found online and fell in love with.
Tauck, MS Sapphire and Versailles
Here is the truth; I have never liked Versailles. My first visit was at 16, and even then, the excess offended me. In my adult years, the excess offended me.
This time, while all the gilt and luxury leaves me underwhelmed and a little depressed that we still live in a world where the rich are utterly stupidly excessive, and the poor struggle just to keep a roof over their head, and that offends me, Tauck provided us with a great guide who had a compelling and engaging narrative and successfully threaded us through the thousands streaming through the palace and gardens.
We were divided into groups, and our group started in the gardens, which turned out to be a lot of fun.
My grandson not only has a good eye for a photo, but also has wonderful long arms:
I love their grins, and I love my grandson’s hand on my husband’s shoulder. In these small things lies an expanse of heaven.
You may not notice this, so I will point it out. I work very hard to get photos without the teeming hordes. Every now and then I will throw in a photo to show you how even though this is not yet the Olympic Games, these gardens are teeming with people. If you look deeply into the above photo, you will see tour groups of 20-50 people in clumps in front of the palace.
And now, we are divided into even smaller groups, and our guide is about to take us through the halls of the palace of Versailles. When I say “take us” I really mean slither us, wind us through the crowds. This woman earned my unrestricted admiration for both her narrative, and her ability to herd us through, and to make it look effortless. I would want her at my side in battle.
Have you ever noticed how life is full of serendipity? I have a new friend, and without her, I would never have known that this exhibit of knights, armor, and horses was part of a special exhibit staged at Versailles. I thought it was just part of the normal exhibits. I came across this information through Dr. B, at Museemusings.com, an art historian who blogs on art, culture, and cross-cultural events in Paris. I was looking for information on La Roche-Guyon and my question took me to her blog and I lost hours reading her observations on current exhibitions and happenings in France.
Looking at these photos, I am astounded that I was able to get these shots so clear of the thousands of people milling around, so I will start including some reality shots. Then you will understand my admiration for the guide who efficiently conveyed information and kept us progressing.
In one of my first classes my freshman year in college I had a professor who said “If you remember one thing from a class you take here, your education is a success.” LOL, I can’t remember his name or the class, but I remember what he said.
Here is the one thing I remember from this trip to Versailles. Louis XIV loved to dance, and he loved high heels, and he wore red shoes all the time, and forbade non-royalty to wear heels.
The only reason there appears to be space on the right side of the Hall of Mirrors (below) is because it is roped off; there are so many people you can’t see the ropes.
The day is hot, not as hot as some, but hot inside because of the mass of humanity streaming through the halls. Thank goodness for the cool breezes wafting in through the open doors.
Can you spot the secret door through which Marie Antoinette unsuccessfully escaped?d
I remember one more thing – beds were short because it was believed lying flat made you likelier to die while sleeping, so the kings and queens slept sitting up in very short beds.
I successfully cropped out the hand and body of the woman who kept thrusting her camera in front of mine, and taking selfies.
Our guide took us through a “secret” underground passage to the outside, where we could breathe again.
I actually enjoyed this day in Versailles.
Tauck Ms. Sapphire: En Route to Versailles
As we are packing, we keep the curtains – and our eyes – open. We are watching for La Roche-Guyon, an ancient castle confiscated by Rommel to be used as his headquarters. I know this because AdventureMan tells me. Several times. He is excited. When we passed it the last time, he was asleep. This time, we will see it.
But first, there is a youth competition we have to see. Kamel, the Cruise Director, is hilarious. He has rules, but they are his rules, and while mostly fair, the outcome seems to benefit the maximum number of people possible, and this is truly a gift.
Todays competitions are hilarious! A race with an egg in a spoon held in your mouth! Successfully hoola-hooping, and racing around the lounge. Stacking your team shoes. Who can wrap the best mummy? The youth go at it with focused enthusiasm – they want to win! Kamel expertly corrals the excited, yelling, screaming parents.
Balloon Volley Ball
And he got the youth to clean up the mess!
Passing fascinating scenes
La Roche-Guyon!
And we go through the locks. It is a tight fit!
Free at last!
Tauck Seine: Rouen, Jean d’Arc and Rollo
As you read this, you’ll think I could have done a better job of culling, but . . . this was my favorite day of the trip and I couldn’t resist taking photos, and there are so few I don’t want to share with you! It’s a popular port – several tour boats parked, and lots of private boats.
It’s early Monday morning, and the official tour doesn’t start until later; AdventureMan and I have eaten a quick breakfast and are eager to get going. Tauck is good about independent travelers; we show our card to the little machine and go!
Look at this tiny narrow little alley way, with the two houses almost touching above!
Great costume idea!
Napoleon. He’s everywhere:
Saint-Ouen Abbey Church
Place de Vieux Marche’/ Place of the Old Market, also the location of the very modern church honoring Joan of Arc.
It’s a very boat like church; look at the beams in the roof.
This gave me shivers – A Prayer for a Good Death. Something to think about.
Rouen sings to my soul. It has played a pivotal part in history so many different times. I love that this is where the Scandinavian people were deeded the land when Rollo married into French royalty. It gives me the creeps that Joan of Arc, after her bravery leading the French Army, died forsaken in a hideous way. I love that this was the stronghold of William the Conquerer, who changed history dramatically in 1066.
And so we need to ponder what we have seen, and what better place than the cafe we found near the Rouen Cathedral?
Look at that meringue! How do they do that?
We watch the groups go by; our guides come into the cafe and tell us that the youth are having a photo scavenger hunt inside the Rouen Cathedral. We are delighted to think they are having so much fun and we are happy to be drinking good tea here.
We meander back to the ship – still discovering more to explore! We want to come back to Rouen for a stay.
Who knew? There is a garbage boat that picks up trash from the ships. The Slop Express!
Rouen Bridge pays tribute to Viking Heritage
Back on board
The bartender is happy to add a little Calvados to my coffee 😊
This afternoon we are cruising back up the Seine toward Versailles; it is a good time to start packing. Tomorrow will be another busy day, and the day after that – Paris!
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