Monday, July 12, 2010
The Good, the Bad, the Ugly, and the Scary......
I almost deleted yesterday's whiny post when I reread it this morning. It's not like me to go off on a vacation THAT I PICKED OUT AND PLANNED and then complain about what's wrong with it. The site is a little disappointing, yes. but we are somewhere we've never been before, we are in the motorhome, and we are together. So I realize I have few grounds for complaints.
Besides, we have Bloody Mary stuff.
We have satellite television, and it's mostly because of me. Hubby had me type up the instructions from Stanley-the-bootleg-cable-guy, which I did faithfully. I printed them out and even brought them with us. And nothing was working when we tried to set up the satellite system. You would have to know Hubby to understand how unpleasant it is when he can't get something to work. Especially something he's having to do in the blazing sun when it's 90-something degrees outside. I won't bore you with the details, but the satellite system was giving us a setting that Stanley didn't mention. When I suggested we try it, Hubby snapped, "He didn't say anything about that! He didn't do that when he was at our house." It involved loosening three bolts on the satellite and rotating it. I thought (but didn't say aloud) that what we were trying wasn't working and it couldn't hurt. Finally Hubby said, with no small amount of derision, "Fine. Put it where you want it." The most satisfying sound I've heard (at least recently) was the beeping of the television to indicate it had located a satellite. He hasn't once acknowledged that it was my suggestion that finally worked, but he knows it. Better yet, I know it. Hee hee hee.
My first photos this morning. When we left the (blessed) air-conditioned cool of the motorhome and ventured out in the steamy morning to take photos, I didn't allow time for the lens to adjust to the new temperature. So the first few pictures, including one of Gus swimming in the creek, were too foggy to save. Perhaps I'll do better tomorrow. I'm not sure what to do, though.... put the camera outside for a little while first? Suggestions would be appreciated.
I did get the picture below, of a funky tree I am fascinated with. I also posted it on another blog, a photography blog of which I am honored to be a part. Venture over there to see some fine pictures by some other women I know only through the Internet.
Thankfully I don't have a picture of this one. Hubby and I took a leisurely bicycle ride across the road and down to the end of the bike path to a beach. We weren't allowed to swim there, but we walked out onto the beach and stuck our toes in the water. Before that, though, we circled through a parking lot, where I promptly fell off my bicycle and skinned both knees. In a parking lot. I was barely moving. It sort of reminded me of the time I fell off a horse that wasn't moving. Hubby waited a while to test the waters as to how much teasing I would tolerate about falling off the bike. A lot, apparently.
I wish dogs could talk sometimes. I got out of the shower tonight and reached across the bed for my clothes, coming into contact with Gus's foot. He yelped like I had stabbed him, so I felt his paw to see if I had injured him. I didn't see how, because I barely touched him. He jumped off the bed and ran to Hubby, limping and holding up his left front paw as if to say, "Mama broke my leg!" I accused him of faking and exaggerating, but I lifted his paw again to see if I could see anything. I found a thorn sticking into the front of his lower leg, and when I pulled it out you would think I had amputated his leg. He yelped and yelped and yelped, and he startled me so badly that the thorn went flying out of my hand, so one of us is destined to pick it up again. All he had to do was TELL me he had a thorn in his leg.
On the way down here yesterday, having left home a day early to break the trip up into two days, I realized Hubby would probably have the same idea about going home. I was already planning how I was going to refute his arguments and insist on the four full days. When my visions of carrying our chairs down to the beach each day were dashed by how far it is, I decided that leaving a day early won't be that bad after all. We'll stay at the same adorable state park where we stayed Saturday night, almost exactly halfway home, and we won't have a six-hour drive in one day. And I will admit it is a good idea just as soon as he acknowledges it was MY solution that gave him satellite television in the motorhome.