A Wing and a Prayer
We are taught to pray for all things, great and small. I really take that to heart; I pray for the smallest things, and most of the time, my prayer is answered (with a ‘yes’ although sometimes the form the answer takes gives me a grin at God’s great sense of humor.) Today, I had to drive an unfamiliar stretch to return my loaned car – a wonderful Lexus – Little Diamond had loaned me, and that was good for some serious and lengthy prayer, and then I was also praying that the check-in people would overlook the fact that my bag was seriously heavy. Like 60 lbs.
Both prayers were answered. I only got minorly lost and got it worked out fairly quickly, and the guy who checked my bag in didn’t bat an eye, just put a tag on it that said ‘heavy’.
What I had forgotten to pray about was security, but since I was only flying within the US, I didn’t think I would have any trouble.
But here’s the thing. For a long time, I thought we would be retiring to Seattle, so slowly over the years, I would take things to Seattle and store them at my Moms or in a storage locker I rent there. So when I went to my Mom’s this last week, I took few clothes, and a big suitcase, so I can start shifting some of these household items to Pensacola. It wasn’t enough, but I packed it really really full, and then I also had stuff packed in my backpack.
So forgetting to pray about security was a big mistake. The security scanner girl kept squinting at the innards of my backpack, and then called others over, always a bad sign.
Sure enough, they went through my things with the explosives tester and their fine tooth combs.
“Are these silver plates?” the security guy asked incredulously.
“Serving plates,” I responded, and gave no further explanation. I don’t believe in telling people too much, it just confuses them and complicates things.
“What is this??” he asked, holding up two cans that said clearly on the side “smoked salmon”.
“Smoked salmon,” I replied.
Back to the scanner. Twice, back to the scanner. When he brought back all my stuff he asked if I wanted him to repack it.
“No,” I said with sheer disgust. No one can get everything back the way I had it packed but me. Even without the two cans of smoked salmon, which they confiscated. Damn.
Other than that, it was a smooth trip, and my son was there to meet me at the Pensacola airport, and I was home within 20 minutes of landing, how cool is that? Sure wish I had those cans of smoked salmon . . .
February Barnacles
I rarely miss a water aerobics class. The Y makes it easy, even if I oversleep, there is also a 0930 class, or if I’m feeling bad, there are also classes on Tuesday and Thursday. Since I’m going to have to make it up anyway, I just go. I rarely feel bad enough to stay home, and most things I can schedule for after my class.
Any kind of aerobics class is funny. I try to be friendly to everyone, because these classes can be a real pain in the patootie if there are cliques or snobs, it starts to feel like junior high all over again, and God knows, that was bad enough the first time. Life is too short.
But there is one spot I really like. I like to be in the back of the class, so I can exercise harder or differently and not confuse anyone else. I’ve been doing water aerobics for a while and sometimes while the rest of the class is doing cross-country, for example, I will do it off the floor of the pool, or do an extra kick on the jacks, things like that, so it just works better for me to be at the back of the class. I also like to be at a certain depth, not too deep and not too shallow. So . . . regrettably . . . I am one of those people who have a spot.
Sometimes if I am a little late someone else stands in “my” spot and I have to stand somewhere else. I don’t worry about it, people in these classes come and go, and I usually get to stand there. If I don’t, I am still OK.
There are two other women on the back wall with me, who are pretty much always in their same places, and we really do have a good time. I joke that we are the barnacles, stuck to the back wall. This morning, I complimented one of them on her earrings, and she said they were amethysts for February, and as it turns out, we all have birthdays within one week of one another in February – all three of us, within one week. What an amazing coincidence.
She worked us hard this morning, and it is a good thing, as I fly this afternoon for Seattle. Keep me in your prayers for safe travels, and travel mercies, please!
Orange Beach, Alabama, Oyster House
We were looking for a place to have a nice lunch on our way home, and I was sure we would go Mexican. AdventureMan felt so deprived of Mexican for all our years overseas that he is still catching up, and when given his druthers, Mexican will mostly be his first choice.
But today – and this is the POWER of advertising – we saw a huge billboard telling us that The Oyster House was THE place to eat.
“We’re going to eat there!” AdventureMan said, and I sure didn’t argue – I am a big fan of seafood. 🙂
We followed the signs. There were a lot of restaurants, but only The Oyster house had big billboards telling us they were THE place to eat. When we got there, a spot was available right in front of the front door – “RSP!” shouted AdventureMan as he parked.
It was a nice place. We got a table where we could see the Bayou:
The menu had so many good choices we hardly knew what to do, and, as usual, we ordered more than we could eat and we brought the rest home to nibble on for dinner:
I had the Seafood Gumbo appetizer while AdventureMan had the salad buffet:
Then our main courses came – and my gumbo had filled me up! I had the appetizer crab cakes as a main course, and it was still too much food! But oh, they had a lot of real CRAB in them:
These were really really good crab cakes – and Wooo HOOO, I still have one for dinner!
AdventureMan had the grilled MahiMahi – also delicious – with red beans and rice. Poor guy, can you see his hand there, just so eager to have his first bite of the MahiMahi and I am so rude as to insist on taking a photo before he takes a bite, LLLOOLLL:
Plenty for dinner for him, too!
Golden Age at Fort Pickens
“We need a break” said AdventureMan, and we decided to go exploring, preferably out in some beachy area. We decided to visit Ft. Pickens, waaaaaaaaay out on the end of a very long barrier island protecting Pensacola.
You can see the blue balloon shows where the Fort Pickens defenses were built:
It’s a national park. It costs $6 to drive a car in.
“Are there any annual passes?” AdventureMan asked, because for us, those are a good deal, and once you buy them you can go anywhere!
The answer was yes, but it was expensive, probably still worth it, but the twinkly eyed woman then asked him “Are you a golden ager?”
“What?” AdventueMan asked in confusion.
“Are you 62? If you are 62, you can buy a Golden Age pass that lets you in all the National Parks for $10.”
“No,” AdventureMan stuttered, “no, not yet . . . ”
“But I am!” I hollered, handing him the money to buy a Golden Age pass before she could change her mind. She carded me, yes, she did, but as I am four months older than AdventureMan, I qualified, and now we can go anywhere (as long as he is with me, we get in on my pass.)
Fort Pickens is beautiful. The sand is white and powdery, and the sea is a lot like the Arabian Gulf, all shades of green and turquoise and blues, shading into purples.
Looks like snow, doesn’t it?
AdventureMan loves old forts; here are where gun batteries were once placed to guard the shores:
We spotted Osprey flying on the air currents around the forts, and huge osprey nests:
We hiked along a beautiful bike/walking trail where I saw tiny purple flowers like we used to find in Saudi Arabia:
Sharp eyed AdventureMan pointed out a snapping turtle – can you see him?
Can you see him now?
We needed a day to remind us it’s not all about work. Getting settled as we get retired – isn’t that supposed to be fun?
For Our Convenience
For our convenience, KLM has introduced a new ‘simplified’ baggage policy:
Joining their Flying Blue Elite program is free. It only makes sense, join up and get that extra bag at no charge, at least not in the Europe / Middle East countries.
As little respect as I have for KLM customer service – most of their people manning the transit desks in Amsterdam specialize in saying ‘no’ with a sneer – they are EXCELLENT for traveling with pets. If you are traveling business class or if you have a gold card that gets you into the lounges, you can shower between flights and have a decent cup of coffee. It’s worth the trouble to get the card.
Dubai Easter Camel
LLOOLL, saw this in the Dubai Airport and could not resist taking a photo. I would have loved to bring some back for Easter basket surprises on Easter morning, but they are surprisingly bulky, as much fun as they are:
Every Monkey Gets His Turn in The Barrel
AdventureMan and I have this phrase, and I cannot imagine where it came from (from where it came, for you grammar sticklers!) “Every Monkey gets his turn in the barrel.” It’s particularly true in the workplace, or at least almost every workplace where I have worked – it’s like the stock market, sometimes your stock is high, sometimes your stock can fall, and often, it is not so much your performance as the PERCEPTION of your performance.
Often, in the work place, stocks rise and fall based on little or nothing at all. In fact, if you are really really good at what you do, you are sometimes more at risk, because those who are less accomplished always need to focus the attention anywhere but on their own work, and if you are doing well, they will often find something to criticize to keep their own lackluster accomplishments from coming into focus.
But every monkey getting his/her turn in the barrel applies in almost all factors of life. Sometimes you’re up. Sometimes you’re down. Sometimes it has nothing to do with you, it’s just the way things are.
So my trip home was sort of my turn in the barrel. I was a little late getting to the airport, which was not crowded, but there was a long back-up going through passport control to get to the departure gates. They had plenty of staff, but for some reason, they were SO SLOW. When I got to the front, the woman ‘taking care’ of me was busy texting! I asked if the computers were slow today – honestly, she had already stamped my passport, she was just killing time – and she said “No, why?” as if she were unaware of all the people standing in line, waiting to get through.
When I got to Dubai, I had to do this 2 km run from the gate where Emirates comes in to the Delta check-in counter. I always think of it as good exercise, but the humidity in Dubai is particularly high, or else the air conditioning is going out, and at the end of the trek, I am almost soaked with sweat and thinking ‘OMG I need a shower.’ I went to the lounge, but there was a sign “opening at 2100 hours’ and it was 15 minutes after nine. I could see someone in there, but later she stuck her head out and said she couldn’t let anyone in until the ‘attendants’ came, which they did, about 15 minutes later – they had been shopping!
And then I discovered that I had to go to the Air France lounge, not nice at all, near the smoking station so even inside the Air France lounge it smells stale and smokey. I am spoiled. I love the Emirates lounge in Dubai, where they even have tiny small containers of Haggan Daaz ice cream for their clients. 😉 This lounge was filled with American contractors. Yes, we are also American contractors, but this was the other kind – great big fat loud-voiced men, bragging about their salaries and demeaning their wives. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, which I did quickly after checking my e-mails.
The flight from Dubai to Atlanta is just long – more than 15 hours – and started inauspiciously. As we took off, as the plane’s nose lifted, some cupboard fell open and we could hear china and cutlery falling and breaking, a lot of it. I felt so sorry for the flight attendants; they have a lot to do during those flights, and now it was complicated by a disaster at the beginning of the flight. I got through it, mostly by escaping into sleep.
As we arrived in Atlanta, everything had changed. I just did this trip six weeks ago, but there is a new traffic pattern, a longer trek, sterner instructions about how and where to get into line. My bags, marked “priority’, were, as often is the case, nearly the last off the plane, and I trundled them through customs, and then had to run (honestly, this is like a herd of cattle) to get into another long, snaking line to go through security again – this time in Atlanta, where you have to take off your shoes, take out computers, can only use a 1 quart zippering plastic bag, etc.
I had thought I had plenty of time, but a large troop flight came in from Afghanistan, and we all had to move aside to give them priority. That is the one inconvenience I did not mind at all – I am so proud everyone moved over with no grumbling and let our servicepeople through, to get them on their way for R&R.
Security found me very interesting, and this is my own fault. I have a little Waterford crystal sugar jar that I took with me. I’ve had it since the early years of our marriage, and I often hand carry it to the next post. It’s too bad that lead crystal goes opaque in the scanners, and that the shape was a little like that of a hand grenade. I also had my wireless router with me, and this led to a long, long, very long inspection of everything I was carrying.
As I griped later to my son, he said “And I am sure it never occurred to you that you were arriving from the Middle East on a one-way ticket.”
LLLLLOOOOLLLL @ me. Nope. It had never occurred to me. I guess I was thinking about other things – farewells, clearing out the house, packing, mortgage papers, insurance papers, TAXES (Oh aaaAAARRRGGHHH, yes we have an extension, but we still have to get them done!)
So this trip, I was the monkey. I rolled around in that barrel. Actually, because I had no real agenda, other than be in P’cola by Monday to close on a house, I could roll with it and figure that I have had so many breaks, so many times, that if I needed to take this roll in the barrel, so be it, God is good and needed to give the breaks to that old guy in the wheel chair and that family with two kids in strollers, and all those fine young people who serve our country in strange and alien lands . . .
And, at the end of my journey is my son, his wife, and our grandson, and a sweet, relaxed day with them, doing not much but catching up. 🙂 The real chaos starts this coming week, early on Monday morning. Think I’d better get to church, get some fortification for the demands of this coming week.
Flat Stanley: Oh The Places You’ll Go!
This title refers to two classic American books that most kids are familiar with. The first book,
Flat Stanley (at Amazon.com) is about a boy who is flat and figures out that he can go places by envelope. The second book is a book by Dr. Seuss, Oh! The Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss (at Amazon.com) one of those books parents read to their children and at some point the children say “Look! I can read!” and they will appear to be reading the book because they have heard it so many times.
Some really smart and creative elementary teacher figured out how to turn Flat Stanley into a lesson combining writing and geography, and now kids are making flat versions of themselves and mailing themselves to far-away places. My friend, Grammy, has received requests to help with these projects at least twice – and oh, the fun we have with these flat kids.
You take pictures. You explain what Stanley is doing. You make a slide show and send it to the kid to share with his class. What a wonderful way to make another country come to life! These kids will know where Doha, Qatar is! They will know some of the sights in Doha. Can you imagine? I wish geography had been so much fun when I was a kid!
It also reminds me to tell you, our friends in the states, that living in places like Doha is NOT SCARY. Look at the faces of all the people who helped us with Flat Stanley. Every single person we encountered was delighted to help us. No one ever said no, and some even volunteered extra ideas. In the souks today were some school children groups, and they helped too, although I am not posting photos because I don’t have their parent’s permissions, but it was one of the sweetest moments of the day, with these adorable children holding Flat Stanley.
Stanley visits the maker of lutes:
Stanley rides a camel:
Stanley takes a ride on a dhow:
Stanley visits the falcon souk, only sadly, falcon season is over, so there are no live falcons 😦
Stanley takes a rest in an incense burner:
Stanley visits the scribes:
Stanley hitches a ride with a souk cop on his Segway:
Stanley tries out a model tent at the tentmaker’s souk:
Stanley visits our friend, the Yemeni honey man, who also sells some of the worlds most wonderful baskets from the Asir in Yemen:
The weather is perfect. Take a trip to the souks. Get outside your normal boundaries and explore a little. Doha is a sweet family city, with lots to do, lots of family activities, great places for walking (the Corniche, Aspire Park, the beaches). Do it now, before the weather gets intense!
Doha – Pensacola – Doha
I was always a KLM frequent flyer, when my destination was Seattle, the Amsterdam – Seattle direct flight was the least hassle from Kuwait. From Doha, however, there is an annoying stop in Dammam. a ghostly airport in Saudi Arabia, where all the men who have been working on the oil rigs and in isolated locations get on. Some families also board, but most of the passengers are men who like to drink and talk talk talk in loud voices when the rest of us just want to sleep en route to Amsterdam.
Now that we are flying to Pensacola, we could still go KLM, but one time when KLM cancelled my flight and didn’t tell me, they put me on an Emirates flight out of Kuwait around six at night that got me to Dubai in about an hour, and then put me on a Delta flight that landed early the next morning, not in Amsterdam, but in Atlanta. In another couple hours I was in Pensacola.
Hmmm. Let’s see – 23 hours of flying plus seemingly endless layovers in airport lounges and an additional annoyance factor of the landing in Dammam, OR a short flight + a very long walk in the new Dubai airport to the next terminal + checking in again because the airlines are not partners (bags are checked all the way through, though, so it is only a ticketing issue) and then a very very long flight that gets you there the next morning . . . I’ll opt for the long flight. Now that Delta and KLM are partners, all my miles still count.
Downside. It is a very long flight. There are also a lot of women and children on board, and the first time, I sat next to a little boy who threw up. I felt really sorry for the little boy and his Mom, and I was nice about it, but the smell of throw up makes me feel very much like throwing up. Memorable flight.
This time, because we needed to accomplish a lot in a hurry and needed to be at our best from the moment we arrived, we went business class. Wooo HOOO. I love the Business Class on this flight. All the things that matter to me – Privacy . . . Comfortable Sleeping . . . Quiet cabin . . . relatively clean restrooms . . .
This is what the sleeping pod looks like:
En route back to Doha from Pensacola, when I got to the departure terminal, there was an extra delight – a live pianist in the food mall. I don’t know if this is a paid pianist or a volunteer but she was GOOD! She was also enthusiastic and lively, and played a bunch of old Beatle’s songs. It brightened up what might have been a dull time.
After all that Grandmama-ing and house buying, I was exhausted, and I really slept a lot all the way home. I am paying for it now. I have never had jet lag so extreme or so long. Almost a week later, I am still unable to sleep through the night, falling asleep at weird times, like 8 p.m. and waking up around 2 in the morning. Aarrgh.
Other than that, my life is very dull right now. Packing boxes. Toting things I won’t need – 220v appliances, for example – to people that might need them. Packing more boxes, clearing out cupboards, trying to figure out what I need to keep and what I can freely freely give. Didn’t I just do this? Like yesterday? Leaving Kuwait for Doha?
Some nights I cook, some nights we go out to old favorite restaurants we want to hit one more time – The Majlis. The Little Sailor. The Beirut. Beijing. Royal Tandoor. Places we know we will miss when we are living in Pensacola. Trying to figure out what to take with me in suitcases, what to ship in our limited air cargo, and what I can live without for three months (!)
Of course, the carrot on the end of this long stick is living near our son and his bride and our little grandson. 🙂 Makes it all worthwhile.
Some ‘adventures’ are more irksome than others. This moving stuff is getting old. For those of you who are asking in the background, yes, the Qatteri cat goes with us. He is a member of our family!
Change of Plans
When we were planning this trip, it all sounded so simple . . . greet the grandbaby, buy a house, quick, fly to Seattle, fly back to Pensacola, kiss the grandbaby and fly to Doha to pack.
Not quite the way it turned out. When we got here, the grandbaby was 11 days overdue. We got to be here for the birth. While our son and his wife labored, we went out with the world’s most wonderful real estate lady and actually, we did find a house.
Three years ago, we found a house. When I talked with the mortgage people, I said “We just finished paying off a mortgage with you; isn’t there some kind of short-cut you could do with me?” and they did something called “fast track” with me, and it was so easy I can’t even remember the paperwork; I think I filled it out on my computer – online – and that was it. My son handled the closing. It was so easy.
Things have really changed. This will be our third mortgage with the same company, but you would think we are potential deadbeats. We have high credit scores, an impeccable payment record – I would think they would want to have us as customers! It’s like pulling teeth. Papers don’t get to us. Additional verifications are required. Appraisers actually enter the house and verify square footage.
Between chasing paper and soothing the newborn, my life has been very full. It doesn’t sound very exciting, when I tell you about it, but here is the truth – I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. It’s an amazing feeling.
Today, I spent a lot of time with the baby. At some point, I realized I wasn’t going to make it to Seattle this trip, and it’s OK. I can go to Seattle later. For right now, I have enough on my plate.
I had forgotten, too, how chaotic life with a newborn can be. His needs take precedence, and sometimes we all run around trying to guess what those needs might be, simple as they are . . . clean diaper? swaddling / soothing to sleep? Mother’s milk? Today was a really good day, where he took the diaper changes with grace, dropped right off to sleep after every meal, and was keenly alert for maybe a half hour after feeding before napping. He loves patterns and fabrics. I am having SO MUCH FUN!
A part of our life is ending, the nomadic part. AdventureMan and I have had a lot of fun, once our son got through college and law school, we were on our own again, living in Europe, living in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Qatar – we have had a great adventure. We travelled to Botswana, Namibia, Zambia (several times), South Africa, Kenya, Tanzania and spent a wonderful week on Mnemba Island off the coast of Zanzibar. We have wonderful friends, mostly from churches and interest groups. I would think, knowing us, that we would be sad leaving all this, but instead, we are racing toward our new future, being more settled, being near our son and his family, and his wife’s great big family. 🙂
For one thing, the world has changed. With e-mail and VOIP phones and people who jump on a plane at the drop of a hat, we expect to stay in touch with those we love and treasure. We expect they will come see us. It’s kind of fun settling in a place with white sandy beaches that everyone wants to come visit. 🙂 Cooler than Kuwait and Qatar in the summer time, too! Nice warm winters, well, not this winter, brrrrrrrrrrrr!
Thought you might want to see a photo of my little darling grandson:
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