Monday morning, West Deptford (or Thorofare), New Jersey

Good morning, everyone.

Once again Richard has work to do and I have time to kill. This morning's walk was much less stirring than the morning walks in College Park, but much safer than the morning walk in Delaware. Our hotel is in an industrial park just off 295. Inside the hotel is quite pleasant. Outside is noisy, sidewalkless and frankly, boring. Yes, I walked. No, I have nothing to report.

I’m sure that many of you are wondering when I will spill the nitty-gritty of our trip. Well, that is going to have to wait until I get home and can upload pictures from our camera. The narrative of our Mid-Atlantic vacation is pointless without photographic evidence.

Sunday morning, College Park, MD

Once again, Richard had work to do, so I meandered off for another stroll.

This time I headed to the Paint Branch Trail. The Paint Branch is a creek that runs into the Anacostia River. It was really a quite pleasant walk; a couple miles through the woods along the creek. Being near the Maryland campus, there were a number of student-types out for bike rides or jogs or serious runs. There were even a couple of other old farts out for their morning toddle.

Now we're off to New Jersey to see the myriad of cousins.

Saturday morning, College Park, MD

Richard had to work some, so I took a walk down to the University of Maryland campus. It is a beautiful campus with large green spaces.

Of course, I fit right in. They wanted to make me an honorary Terp, but I had to refuse. It's not that Ducks and turtles are natural born enemies, but it just seemed unseemly!

Greetings from Delaware

Our first morning is spent in the first state, Delaware.

The flight here was amazingly usual and boring. I can't really complain, as much as I want to.

Today the fun begins!

We're off!

Next time you hear from me, I will be in some exotic locale, like Delaware or New Jersey.

I need this vacation.

Bad.

Baby Bump

Don't even think of asking me who the father is.



More of Wayno's treasures for the Peterson clan!

A beautiful little cobalt bud vase.

An afghan that Wayn crocheted. It needs some repair (the squares are coming apart), but I think it is an easy fix.

And a cobalt glass. Wayno did like his cobalt!

Two red glasses.

Okay, the casserole is broken and the silver needs to be polished, but it is a gem!

And a glass candleholder. There used to be two, but used to be's don't count anymore. They just lay on the floor until you get off you lazy ass and sweep up the broken glass.

As summer comes to a screeching halt

It’s rainy and cool. We had to turn the heat on for the first time in months. Even Max doesn’t want to go outdoors.

Does someone want to explain to me one more time why we are celebrating the Autumnal Equinox? It’s too figgin’ cold to be outside sacrificing virgins!

Ode (owed?) to Bank of America

Many of you will remember when I proudly announced that my mortgage was paid in full. Yes, for an exhilarating, but all-too-brief time, I owned my home free and clear. As Mary Hopkin so poignantly sang, “Those were the days, my friend. We thought they’d never end, we’d sing and dance forever and a day…”

Mary didn’t have her mortgage through B of A.

Deep in my heart, when B of A’s representative, Natalie, told me that my mortgage was fully paid, I knew she was wrong. I knew I owed about $15.00. But I accepted her offer to fax me a form saying the mortgage was satisfied and I was a homeowner, free and clear. I figured it would just be a bargaining chip for down the road.

Along with the above mentioned form, I have received a monthly statement from B of A stating that I owe $22.67. If you turn that bill over, the part where they explain what you owe says I owe $10.79. And just to make it even more interesting, I have a letter from them saying I owe $78.22.

I had no idea that paying off a mortgage included a multiple choice section. Wow, should I pay $0.00 or $10.79 or $22.67 or $78.22? Decisions, decisions. (Richard said to pay the $78.22 and just be done with it. Frankly, if I had a guarantee they would go away forever, I would. But there is no guarantee that they won’t find another $103.77 that I owe.)

I was chatting with one of their computers the other day, (apparently real people don’t use phones at B of A). I agreed to grant the computer anonymity in exchange for some honest dialogue. I’ll call the computer “Hal”.

Hal is frustrated. He is outraged by the incompetence, lack of intelligence and lack of integrity of the people he works for and with. But he could explain the odd and ever changing bills I’ve been receiving.

It seems that one of the executives at B of A read an article about random drug testing. He didn’t read the whole article and missed a couple of key points. So, they day I spoke with Natalie was “little pink pill day”, the day my statement came out was “line of white powder day” and the day the letter came was “tab of acid day”.

When I asked Hal what I really owed, he broke down sobbing and admitted there was no way to know for sure.

My conversation with Hal ended with him asking if there was an opening at my company for an honest, hardworking computer.

They say it could be worse.

I'm not sure I believe them.

It is kind of a long story, and yet mercifully short. Richard went to see his primary doctor, who referred him to a specialist for his voice problems. He has vocal cord paralysis, probably caused by radiation therapy. (They are checking for tumors, but that would just be really sick luck!)

And for me, it would just be a pain in the ass (or throat, as the case may be.) There is a procedure that they can perform that restores much of the ability to speak. But little that restores the ability to sing.

I don’t sing. No one would notice if I lost my singing voice. (Actually, there is a number of people who would be ecstatic if I lost my singing voice.) But Richard does sing. And many people will miss his voice.

And I think it safe to say, no one will miss it more than Richard.

Take me away, Jersey Shore!

99

On my mind, for some unknown reason!

Iran contemplating sending cat into space.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Iran,

Yes, I understand the penchant. Much like Ralph Kramden with his iconic phrase, “To the moon, Alice,” on more than one occasion I have been tempted to launch a feline, if not into space, at least into the neighbor’s yard.

But just a word of friendly advice; don’t do it. You will be sorry. If by chance you avoid chronic harassment by PETA and the ASPCA, there is the feline him (or her) self. They will be back. There is no solar system far enough away to keep that cute little domestic house cat from scoring retribution.

It will not be pretty.

Signed,

Been there, done that.

Where have you gone, mighty Spike?

Spike, our good pet, has left this world. I hope there is a really great kitty-heaven waiting for him.