Broadway's Up and the Battery's Down

Ahhhhhhhhhh, 2 glorious weeks in New York spent with darlin' daughter Dana. Yes, I love alliteration, but that just happened.

September after Labor Day -- a great time to be on the East Coast. Weather is mild, not humid, kids back in school, everyone walks with a brisker step. Well, New York City buzzes with its own energy, and it transmits it to my core being. Dana got us a great suite at the Affinia Dumont Hotelon 34th St. and 3rd Ave., where she works. I qualify for Friends and Family discount, and it was a whopper.

When I arrived at LaGuardia (after non-eventful flights, changing at Denver), I took a Yellow Cab to the hotel, as Dana was still on duty. That was the last time I touched my luggage for 2 weeks. We had dinner in the room and I went to bed early.

Next day we relaxed and she re-introduced me to everyone on the staff. From then on I was "Mom." As in: Is Mom having a good time? Is everything alright with Mom? How's your room, Mom? Yes, Yes and Terrific. They all love Dana, so automatically I'm a celebrity from the West Coast. It's fun.

We had massages that day at the Spa, which IS the 2nd floor of the hotel. Next day we trained up to the New York Botanical Gardens, a gorgeous place. Lush and greener than green, there is a collection of more than one million living plants, 30,000 trees, and what they call the most beautiful rose garden in America among its 250 acres. There's a conservatory that provides "an ecotour of the world and renowned seasonal exhibitions; magnificent collections of trees, schrubs, and flowers." It was so tropical inside the conservatory building that I was bitten 2ce by mosquitoes, each one must have been humongous!

The highlight of the visit was the Henry Moore sculpture exhibition. There were 21 pieces placed throughout the gardens. As he's one of my long time favorite artists, I was rather over the top -- to actually see them "in person." And please don't tell anyone that I actually touched a few. Wow! Well, there were no guards staring at me like they do at MoMA and the Guggenheim...

Then we spent a couple of days in Washington D.C., also traveling by train, and stayed with my former in-laws, who remain my children's aunt and uncle. We didn't have a lot of time to sight-see but it was wonderful seeing Cathy and Neil after, um, 20 years or so. The pace of D.C. is so vastly different from NYC, much calmer, more measured, and the traffic is a lot less crazy.

When we returned to the City we stayed one night, then got Dana's car and drove out to Greenport, on the north shore of Long Island. Friends Dottie and Richard came out for one night and we went out for Maine Lobster. Yessssss. Dana and I stayed on for 2 more days, just relaxing, also visiting Shelter Island. This island, reached by ferry, has "summer houses" that are mansions, surrounded by acres, leading down to the water.

Outside of the City my eyes just couldn't get enough GREEN. During my visit it only rained a couple of times,and I was diappointed. Course, everyone there thot I was bonkers. Told them we don't get rain in CA for months on end. They just shook their heads in disbelief.

The end of Dana's vacation came so Mom was on her own for 3 days. I took myself shopping at Lord & Taylor on 5th Ave., visited the NY Public Library lions, did my usual tour of MoMA and the Big G., walked and gawked up at both tall and beautiful old buildings and took loads of photos. Bought some sidewalk art outside the Met, and tried and missed a boat trip out of the South St. Seaport to see the waterfall art exhibit. Yes, and I souvenier shopped.

Some highlights included a wonderful as always dinner at Sevilla in Greenwich Village with Dana and Monica; at least 3 meals at the Barking Dog which is attached to the Dumont; a great pedicure with Dana in the next chair; fantastic views from EVERY hotel room we stayed in (4); being taken care of and spoiled by every, single person (especially Dana) that I encountered. Even had a great hair cut and color by "Dios" in the salon up the street. Not expensive.

I'm already planning on when I can go back. I do hope to import Dana early next year in order to celebrate her 40th birthday. How is it possible that my "baby" is older than I am?

Life Is Good

It’s a dry heat, but wowee - - it’s HOT! The front porch thermometer reads 94 F. We’re at Quail Cottage for our 3 day mini vacation, will be leaving in a couple of hours, after lunch. Patrick and I wander around with wet towels around our necks. We’re so used to the cool, coastal region where it rarely gets higher than in the 80’s.
Yesterday we visited with Mike Corbett and Jennifer, my tenants in the mobile on the Pond Property. They are so nice, and Great Tenants. Mike: “Let me give you September’s rent and save 49 cents.” Getting the rent over half a month early is unheard of. But I’ll take it. Told them I’d like them to teach a class on how to be a good tenant – that I have some students for them.
The Q’s need lessons. Not so much one of my other tenants, Ms. P., although she’s been complaining lately about her loss of privacy. Can’t be helped when someone owns the property next door and has work done on it from time to time. If’s she’s so fearful for her safety she should take an apt. in town. All 6’ and a couple of hundred pounds of her…
Sorry, but true. I have less and less patience with the negative people in this world. I refuse to play their games of: “Ain’t It Awful?” Or,” I could never accomplish anything like that!” Look on the bright side, people. You are alive and-- Life is Good.
Lunch yesterday with Marie at the Japanese restaurant in Oakhurst. Opa? She’s my: the glass is half full friend. And we reinforce each other. I’ve been quoting her lately with her phrase, “If there is a recession going on now, I just refuse to participate!” Moi, aussi!
When we get home I’m sure I’ll be pleasantly surprised at how good the house looks now. We finished the remodel last week and had a fantastic party 8/2 to celebrate, both the house and Patrick’s 62nd birthday. Our grandson brought his mommy, my BFF Pat was with us for 5 days, all from the Bay Area. Friend Ellie from Van Nuys came for the week end. We partied hearty and I was exhausted by Monday, when everyone left.
OK, menudo soup, salad and fresh corn on the cob lunch time… For now.

No, We're Not

Cont'd.

...all the important things to take when evacuating your home...

It was the 3rd night of the Gap Fire in Goleta. We had gotten recorded messages on the reverse 911 system before, but this one seemed to say we were on notice to actually evacuate. After consulting w/the neighbors, who didn't feel any urgency, we felt a bit better. We still half packed the car, and went to bed rather tense. We were able to stay after all.

It's been a week of ash raining on everything, smelling smoke, listening anxiously to the news, power outages every day and evening, checking the sky for the direction of the smoke. It's been a month of extensive remodel and we have been without a kitchen, dining room and living room. We huddle in the back 2 rooms with even the porch out of bounds because of the poor air quality and my asthma.

Add to that Patrick's 2 week bout (during this time) with a 9 mm. kidney stone and it's apparent we have been dealing with a lot. They finally blasted it with some sort of laser surgery.

The kitchen cabinets are being installed at this moment. I think we'll be done in about 2 weeks. We will celebrate on August 2nd with an open house reception and we've invited all of "Andy's boys" who helped make our dream come true. Champagne, please.

Are We Evacuating?

Let's see, meds; lock box w/papers; selected photo albums; address book; cell phones; bank check books; lap top; birds & bird seed; my very special drawing by famous artist; jewelry, more sentimental than valuable...

Mexican Recycling -- The Lack Thereof

Even as a young teen ager, exploring Tijuana with my parents, I noticed a certain, uh, messyness. Back in the early 50's Americans were starting to deal with trash-on-the-side-of-the-road, beginning a campaign to clean up, don't throw stuff out of car windows, be responsible. A hefty fine helped.

In the past few decades, (most) people in most countries have become aware that we MUST recycle to save our planet.

Not in Mexico.

Can't there be a force that could turn these folks around,and reward them for recycling -- partly with hard cash? Just as we have in America? I believe it must be done, and it's totally possible, with education.

In Acapulco, in addition to some ugly hillsides littered with discarded trash of all kinds, the streets are strewn with empty plastic bottles, paper, soda cans. Name it. We even noticed an obviously abandoned parked car during our walks into town that was filled with recyclables. In its front seat. Oh my.

We also noticed the problem during our week long stay in Ensenada last year. So it seems to be a country-wide crisis. Ideas?

Minahs Welcome Us to Acapulco

I have a photo of me writing journal notes, sitting at the table on our balcony in Acapulco. My face is sunburned from the day before when we watched the cliff divers . We stood in full sun for 2 or so hours, as they kept promising: “The diving will start at any time now.” There was no shade. And, I confess to forgetting to put sun block on my face that day. So embarrassing, with my face so flushed.


We will never fly into Mexico City again, it was a horror story. My personal horror story. I have phobias about being closed into a space where I see no exit, i.e. elevators, small rooms where it is very confining, with maybe one exit, crowds, esp. on subways. One can imagine why I had so much trouble living in NYC , when I was first married.

In the MC airport an official was sheparding everyone down an escalater. Only problem was that at the bottom of the moving stairway there was a crowd of arrivals packed together closely, numbering in the hundreds, maybe thousands. It had the classic potential of the beginning of a stampede. I began demanding people to MOVE, MOVE – in a loud voice. They somewhat reluctantly did so. Still, we were left standing in a huge room crowded with people waiting to go thru immigration lines. My water had been taken away from me. I couldn’t stand for hours in a crowd, I knew it. I was having trouble breathing.

I appealed to a woman standing with a clipboard, told her I was going to pass out. She agreed to try to get me thru ahead of the line. She did. I was so relieved. Patrick, bless him, was oblivious to it all. Then we had 3 hrs. to wait for the 1 hr. flight to Acapulco.

Mauro met us at Acapulco Airport at 12 midnight our time, bless him. As we walked out to the parking lot I noticed the piercing calls of several birds. They sounded like Minahs. Mauro Sr. had Mauro Jr. w/him, who drove us in the air conditioned van (thank you, it was hot & humid). We were to travel the rest of the 10 days when M. picked us up in a VW bug, no a/c. Well, we didn’t have to rent a car for the 10 days we were there.

The Mauros deposited us at our hotel, Etel Suites, on the side of the hill overlooking old town. Patrick went down immediately to purchase ice and tacos. I worriedly stared down from the balcony trying to spot him, hoping & praying he’d make it back OK. It was late, dark and I was exhausted.
OK, let’s see what I wrote, sitting on the balcony.

Dogs wail, music blares, men, especially, laugh loudly, yellow lights appear at night, horns honk, music plays, men sing along with the dogs. Each day, twice, a man down below passes through and sounds like he’s having a mournful b.m. I still don’t know what he was advertising. Immodium A.D.?

This part of town – old town – comes alive when the sun sinks into the Pacific to our left. Music at the disco below us (well, everything is below us) begins in earnest; traffic increases around El Mirador, the hotel on the hill that features the cliff divers; taxis toot their horns twice, to ask if you want a cab; planes drone high over head.

We are in a suite where the bedroom is located behind the balcony, living room, kitchen, and is down the hall. When we retire we close the windows and doors, turn on the a/c, and we cannot hear a thing. Which is a very good thing!

Mexico has obviously never heard of noise pollution. Or, recycling. Which I will address when I continue in my next blog. *-*

Come Fly With Me

On our 2nd day in Acapulco I made this vow: I will not mourn the Acapulco I knew, and, instead, celebrate what is now.
This turned out to be difficult. Because…

…I was first in Acapulco in 1961 or 1962, went as a last minute lark with a girl friend. A few days passed and then 2 fellows picked Jackie and me up. She and __?___ didn’t click, but Don Socarras and I did. Jackie came down with Montezuma’s Revenge, I didn’t. Don and I went on our merry way, Jackie went home, Don asked me to stay another week, and I did.

Don, handsome as hell, a banker, was from Caracas. He habitually spent his annual, month-long vacation in A., so he knew it well. He took me on dates to the Jai Lai games, many different beaches, sailing in the bay, we watched the gorgeous, multi colored sunset at Pie de la Cuesta from under palapas, then cocktails at La Perla to watch the divers. One afternoon we swam – without the right to do so -- in the El Presidente Hotel pool. One day we visited the plaza downtown where I had 2 dresses made. It was a quiet little town then, with one main road along the beach. Only one high rise hotel. No real shops.

He was fluent in English and Spanish, his mother was from Florida, his dad from Venezuela. Charming, Don treated me very well and admired my intelligence, among other things. When I went home after our 2 week romance, we kept in touch, loosely. I knew he had a girlfriend, so I didn’t see any future w/him. But what a doll he was.

With Dave Hawks (my 1st husband), Acapulco was just as lovely, but built up more in 1971. We stayed at Las Brisas, a 5 star hotel over looking the bay. I don’t recall too much about our week there. I do remember that each room had its own, private pool, and that our breakfast of pastries and fresh fruit arrived each morning in a basket hung on our gate. Fresh hibiscus was scattered in our pool each day. I did think of Don a lot.

Unsurprisingly, in Mexico this time with Patrick, the memories that surfaced were of Don Socarras. I couldn’t tell P. anything about it. Our 10 days there were primarily fun, interesting, restful. Every time I thought of Don I said to myself, I said, Nancy, even if he’s still alive he’s an old man. Stop it! So I did.

The End.

At least for now.

Body and Soul

The other morning I woke up thinking about the soul and the body. Most of us believe that at the moment of death the soul leaves the body. And what exactly is the soul? Maybe it’s just Consciousness and Awareness. After all, when we die we lose both, right?

When I see an animal by the side of the road I know immediately if it is dead or alive. And I don't base it on whether or not it is moving.

Of course, one can still be alive and unconscious. But the moment the heart stops beating, the lungs no longer breathe, the brain stops functioning, the body dies. And the soul leaves. Because it no longer has a living body to inhabit?

The two people that I have sat down next to shortly after their deaths in the past 5 years were my stepfather, Tom, and 9 months later, my mom. It was obvious to me that Tom was no longer THERE, in his body. He had been wasting away with cancer for 6 months, we had gone away for a few days, and arrived at their house 10 minutes after he died. Lying there was obviously a vacant body.

When the assisted living house owner called me to tell me that mom had passed away, I rushed over there and arrived perhaps 20 minutes after the call. She was lying on her back with her left arm reaching up toward the ceiling. And she was not in her body. It was so very clear.

As far as where the soul goes, great thinkers and philosophers have been debating this for centuries. Plato and Socrates just had opinions. Besides, how can we prove any of this while we’re not of that realm?

I don’t want to die, that thought is frightening -- but it’s the HOW that really scares me. What is reassuring, however, is that we always hear that so and so died peacefully… I think everything and everybody dies peacefully.

I hope.

Salute to Tony, A Good Guy

Oh my!

Our across the street neighbor, Tony, died the other day. He was a widower and lived alone. We’d noticed that his newspapers were still in his driveway but we had no one to call. We walked around his house, peering in windows. Everything was in order, the beds were made. We could see nothing. We phoned. We yelled thru his doors.

The park office was of no help. We were frustrated. Then, after about 4 days, his granddaughter and her mother arrived. Patrick went over and helped them enter. Tony was wedged in the bathroom, and was gone. Poor dear, in his late 80’s, with heart disease, but he faithfully bowled in his league every week.

God bless him, he was such a help to the park residents for many years.We needed someone on our side. He did a lot of legal research and determined what the home owners’ rights were, then represented us in court. He worked hard and was a walking encyclopedia of statutes and most laws pertaining to mobile home park residents. He represented us in many, many meetings.

What haunts me is: could someone have helped him when he first collapsed ? Yes, the man was in his late 80’s, but that isn’t necessarily today’s criterion. I need to question the park’s policy regarding emergency contact numbers being available in the office.

Bless you, Tony, you did good.

Love, Patrick and Nancy

It’s snowing in Denver. Yes, and it’s snowing here in the Sierras. It began about 11 AM today and it looks like irregular pieces of cotton, descending from the heavens. Clumps of snowflakes. It’s 40 degrees out so it’s wet and not accumulating. Well, some. We’ll take a walk soon. Patrick took some video.

I must learn how to get photos onto my blog. A picture is worth…

We get to spend an extra day here this week, they’re re-doing the kitchen at the Valley Club. Last night we had a dinner party for 5 – Madeleine and Paul and Marie joined us for a pork loin dinner. It’s the first time M. and P. met Marie and they immediately got along, as I knew they would. They know several people in common.

Today Paul and Patrick roamed both properties, Paul evaluating where the best places to cut and gather wood would be. He has trucks and all kinds of equipment and seems willing to help us do things. He’s retired, so has time. Of course, he has a lot of his own work to do, so he’s being very generous.

Gosh, maybe we’ll get snowed in, and not be able to go home tomorrow? We have plenty to eat and drink anyway. Cars are still traveling on Hwy 49, can see them out the living room window. One advantage of living right on the highway is that they plow right away.

Christmas 2007

We immediately accepted an invitation when it was offered to spend Christmas again this year in Cambria with the Nelsons. This was the 3rd year we celebrated with them. They are our son-in-law's parents and have a home there, but live most of the year in Singapore. Kathy, Matt and Connor -- our grandson -- usually spend the Holidays with them. There are about 15 others in the family who arrive and we fill a large table.

Many lively exchanges occur, as these are intelligent and very sociable people. A niece and nephew are completing medical school, and both recently became engaged, so there were several toasts to them. Of course, most eyes are on Connor, who turned 3 in November. He's a pistol, busy with 3 things at once and deciding what's next. His parents have taught him to be very polite and I love it when he says, "Tank ou." Papa Patrick had picked out a wooden train for him.

It was a lovely day and the chocolate cake that Patrick baked for the occasion was a huge hit.

The Cat Who Came for Christmas

We returned to our room in a Motel 6 in Morro Bay about 7 PM that night. I had one, last thing to get out of the car and, when I returned to the room, there was a full grown cat sitting on the bed with Patrick. His yellow eyes were wide as he looked me over, I think deciding whether he could stay or go. He gradually relaxed as I petted his glossy, shiny coat and told him how beautiful he was. Long and on the thin side, he was a tiger stripe, black and gray with perfectly matched marking on each side. Asymetrical? Looked like a Rorschach test.

Because he obviously belonged to someone, I called the desk and asked if anyone was looking for a cat. The woman said, "Oh is he a tiger stripe?" When I said yes, she said, "Well, he hangs around here and we don't know where he lives. You can take him home if you like." My immediate reaction was, oh no, we can't have a cat where we live. Yet, as the evening wore on and Noel (I decided to call him IF we took him home) snuggled up with us in bed, quiet and extremely polite (like our grandson), and very, very sweet, I began wondering just what we would do in the morning.

Sometime after midnight Noel meowed very gently, letting us know he wanted to go out. He came back in shortly. We rifled thru our stuff and found some lasanga that our hostess had pressed upon us to take home. He ate a few mouthfuls, then hopped up on the bed for a while longer. It was still dark outside when he wanted to leave again. I told Patrick that the cat would decide for himself if he was to go home with us.

It was about 8 AM when we stirred, opened the door and looked for our new best friend. He was nowhere to be found. As we checked out I asked the woman at the desk about "Noel." She laughed and told us that he liked to visit the motel guests and that "He even sleeps with some of them." She added, "I've had at least 5 people who wanted to take him home with them. But, in the morning, he's always gone. We call him 'Houdini,' cause he disappears."

So we'd met a kitty with loose morals. But he was beautiful and we loved him for a few hours. I think he's doing a very good job of taking care of himself.

Darn it!