The Sheepshead Bay Experience

​A year ago, on a drizzly, kind of grey evening, I boarded a Brooklyn bound bus with maybe two dozen people, many whom I had never met, wearing shoes that were way too big and having  a heart that was way too full, to travel to a  beautiful  Russian banquet hall in Sheepshead Bay, where in a few hours I’d officially gain a new title: mother in law!

What a year it’s been, from the second reception in the fall that observant relatives could attend, to buying and beautifying your new home, to the unforgettable adventures and memories made during your honeymoon in Barcelona, to the shared grief we experienced just  last month in the veterinary hospital as we tearfully said goodbye to Luke. 

There were mini vacations in the Poconos and exciting theater and our first movie as a family! (“Marty Supreme” on Christmas Day) 

There were some great dinners( like the one for our thirty sixth anniversary) and some moments we were all in awe, like seeing the spectacular gift my new daughter in law created for Evan’s thirtieth birthday last  July.

It was a year of special events, like Gaby’s graduation, and baseball games, ( when Amtrak ruined your first attempt to see the Boston Red Sox last August, but cousins Reid and Joni more than made up for it by presenting you with tickets and New  England hospitality a month later) and a year of  just enjoying wonderful tv ( like “The Pitt” and “The Studio”) together and having meaningful discussions after. 

In this year of getting  to know my daughter in law, I’ve witnessed  her brilliance ( watch “Jeopardy!” with  her.. or “The One Percent Club” .. she even gives me a run for my  money with “Wheel of Fortune”) and  more impressively , I’ve witnessed her incredible  thoughtfulness and kindness.

Thank  you Michelle, for my “label”.. being your mother in law is an honor!

Enjoy your Weekend in New England ( c’mon, daughter in law.. I know you can rattle off at least ten more Barry Manilow songs  off the top of your head in the next sixty seconds!!) 

Michelle, may you forever be my son’s favorite “Dancing Queen.” 

You’ve only just begun…

F Trooper

​Our Glory story has come to an end. 

Goodbye,American Cruise Lines,and hello to laundry, an overstuffed DVR, a house that needs repairs, and sadly, for the first time in over three decades, a barkless home after a trip. 

Jim was very excited about our last excursion.

A thirty minute coach ride from the ship and a thirty minute ferry ride after to spend fifteen seconds at Fort Sumter. 

I’m getting weary of all the plaques and artifacts and statues.. I wish I had his FORTitude.  

When the ship hits the fan, I get little say. 

Except to say how mad I was for neglecting to pack long sleeve shirts or sweatshirts, meaning he had to rush up a flight of uneven steps to get the first thing he saw. 

I would have spent the same thirty bucks on a pee stained burlap horse blanket, that’s how cold I was, so I won’t complain about the ugly ass pea green sweatshirt decked in a flag that makes me look like the background of George C. Scott’s monologue in “Patton.”

It’s never leaving the house once we get home and if it does, I won’t. 

While Jim was getting verklempt unfurling a flag with thirty strangers, I was wondering if we’d remember where the coach bus was parked, which we didn’t, and we  made eighty or so angry passengers very late for cocktail hour. 

The good news is that the ear worm for “The Feather” ( the score from “Forrest Gump”) finally left my brain as we toured the grounds of Fort Sumter,  but it was replaced by the theme song from “F Troop” which of course meant I had to write custom lyrics:

The end of the simple tour is near 

And yes, quite deliberately..

Got outta my league 

(I blame fatigue)

Defeated.. depleted.. I.. need ..sleep!

I didn’t earn a Purple Heart.. not I

Just bad looks from dads and moms..

each  pissed mom and  pop

They heard me drop

Not weapons of war

I just drop.. f-bombs.

Thanks again for all your feedback this week. I hope my blog gave you a laugh or two.

Lucy.. you have some ‘splainin’ to do

​Welcome to Charleston!

Our final destination.

 The penultimate blog.

Reality comes back tomorrow.

Reality bites. 

Who could have predicted I’d have “bedroom eyes” at my age with these  pre-cataracts?

Most days, my “bedroom eyes “ are filled with irritation as I awaken Jim from a deep slumber at three in the morning, demanding that he stops snoring, and he’ll invariably ask me a question like, “ WHAT did you just say about snoring?” 

As if it could be anything OTHER than a command to STOP it.

It’s not like I was experiencing insomnia in the middle of the night because I couldn’t remember the medical name for or the spelling of “snoring.”

Let’s get back to the bedroom eyes I have for my Dougie, that rich velvety voice that could melt icebergs or the heart of Melania Trump. 

( same difference)

Douglas Ladnier ( I don’t know him well enough to give him such a babyish moniker like Dougie. Doogie would be worse) doesn’t just sing; he sets your soul on fire, like you’re the only person in the room. 

( and last night, we practically were)

His facial expressions, coordinated body movements, sexy gaze.. omg, he had the whole larger than life package!

After  a few notes of his personalized rendition of “Gotta Lotta Livin’ to Do” you  just wanna go out with a picket sign to protest the drafting of Conrad Birdie. 

He’s a little bit of a tease before the first few notes of an upcoming number, and as soon as he hinted it was from “ Phantom” my eyes practically begged him to come through. 

I mouthed “That’s All I  Ask of You” and he nailed it, although Jim’s favorite was “Bring Him Home “ from “Les Miz” touching every veteran and neurotic New Jersey homemaker in that room .

I wish the entertainment staff at Woodloch would hire this angel!

I wish I were a baritone!

I wish I had the same friendship with Sally Struthers that he does, though I’m afraid she’d remember me when she appeared on “The Mike Douglas ( “ he said his name again!! But all I said was Conrad Birdie.. er.. Mike DOUGLAS!! )Show  in 1973, and I followed her to her hotel to try and hand her an ambitious script I had written for “All in the Family “ which she wisely  refused to take.

I was so ballsy and pushy in those days.

Glad I grew out of that phase.

Douglas is not only a greater singer, but he’s great at improvising comical moments. 

Just ask Mr. “Ants-in-the-Pants” from last night’s audience. 

Jim gave Douglas Ladnier my blog link on a cocktail napkin! 

Which could get wet or lost, like it did when all those guys I met at college mixers never stayed in touch. 

Between Douglas piercing my soul and then coming back to  the stateroom to watch Noah Wylie on “The Pitt” I think my libido was having a better day than I was.

I’ll close my telling you two great Douglas stories, both revolved around the name Lucy. 

Douglas’s favorite musical of all time is “Sweeney Todd” and he  got the opportunity to play the titular role.  

In one production, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street was supposed to slit the throat of his wife, Lucy, but someone on the stage crew messed up and forgot the prop knife. 

So when the young character named Toby was supposed to kill Sweeney, he had to improvise. 

And almost strangled him  by hand on stage. 

The other Lucy death was in “Jekyll and Hyde.”

After years of being a swing player ( meaning an understudy for every role) Douglas finally gets the change to play the benevolent doctor and his evil twin, but he got so nervous and so excited that his palms started to sweat, surprising the dead Lucy so much with his clammy wet touch that audiences members in the front row heard a CORPSE shriek!

After the show, I approached him about these two hilarious fiascos from both “Sweeney Todd” and “ Jekyll and Hyde” and said, with the straightest face, 

“Hey Lucy killer.. you better never get cast as the lead of “ You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown!”

The princess of tides

hello Beaufort!

Loving your pretty little town with drippy, mossy  willows and both Victorian and antebellum homes, your manicured lawns and white picket fences, but to be perfectly frank, I’d have to change my name from Karen to.. oh, there’s no need for me to get stupid. 

Not this late in the vacation.

To be perfectly frank, I’m getting weary of all these war monuments and historical war reenactments, 

It’s just One Battle After Another.

Just a bunch of Sinners drinking moonshine. 

This morning’s excursion was called the Low Country Heritage Exploration and all I remember people talking about was rice, chiggers,  and misogyny. 

( although I did like seeing Martin Luther King’s hideout spot in St. Helena’s)

We explored something called the Praise Building, but nobody said a word about my WOF prowess or my brisket,  so there was no personal praise for me, which is all I care about.

it was just a dilapidated one room building with chipped wooden pews and zombies singing “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore.” 

I was very excited about this afternoon’s schedule, “Beaufort’s History and Movie Excursion.”

It was described as a highly strenuous activity because it involved walking more than two miles over uneven surfaces, and I was relieved to see men in their nineties wearing  shorts and sandals with  socks, but even with their canes, they all walked faster than me. 

Still, I knew our knowledgeable guide, Bill, would be talking a lot about some of my favorite movies.. “ The Prince of Tides” and “The Big Chill” and “Forrest Gump.”

( did you know that beautiful music at the film’s end, while credits rolled, is called “The Feather Song?”)

You do now.

So ask Alexa to play it. 

Go ahead.. I’ll wait. 

I went on this tour for celebrity gossip, which I sadly care more about than important  historical events.  

If my history tests in high school were all composed of back issues of “People” magazine, I’d be teaching Advanced  American History at Yale by now.

I was the first to answer the question about who played Alex’s corpse in “The Big Chill” ( Kevin Costner) but I didn’t know out guide’s black van was cut from the movie “Stars Fell in Alabama” after seven grueling takes , but the van still got more credit than Kevin Costner did. 

We saw Lila Wingo’s house from “The Prince of Tides” ( she was played by Kate Nelligan in an Oscar nominated performance) and our guide detailed the scene where  Lila served her abusive husband dog food for dinner, a scene I remember very well, which  I considered during the PMS days early in my marriage. 

The movie took place in Charleston and New York, but was filmed in Beaufort and apparently, Barbra Streisand was a diva.

Shocking, I know.

She demanded that all the flooring in that rented house be replaced with expensive white carpeting and that the kitchen in her RENTED home be demolished so walls could be expanded.

The military ignored her demands to stop noisy air traffic over her roof in the early morning, and good for them.

(I love her voice, but I’m not finishing her book. Prima Donnas don’t last more than three years on my kindle)

I liked seeing Sally Fields’ house as Mama Gump,  and Matthew Broderick’s hospital in “Glory.”

There were stories about “The Great Santini” and “Forces of Nature” but the juiciest gossip comes from a Julia Roberts movie called “ Something to Talk About.”

She played the wife of serial cheater played by  Dennis Quaid, and it was filmed in the courthouse we strolled by. 

After shooting, Julia would sneak out the back and hide in the adjacent library to avoid reporters’ questions, mostly about why the hell she married Lyle Lovett.

Who can explain that weird attraction and  this crazy little thing called love, asks me, as I’m about to drench myself in the most intoxicating perfume because Doug is performing Broadway  songs tonight.

More later​

A voice richer than Fort Knox

​South Carolina’s best kept secret since Lindsey Graham’s Grindr Profile and okay, I’ll stop. 

( with the recycled jokes)

Move over, Kimmel, there’s a new Hall Pass in town!

Every repeat customer on this American Cruise Line says the same thing. 

( besides, “  I can’t find my dentures”)

That the nightly entertainment here is superb, the best they’ve seen anywhere, and that observation  circulated widely  even before the appearance of last night’s Hall Pass.

His name is Douglas Ladnier and he is promoted as a singer with a voice that’s “ richer than Ft. Knox.”

He’s richer than that.

In certain lighting, he looks like Mel Gibson or Kris Kristofferson,  with the wit of David Letterman and the wardrobe of Elvis.

Who but this man could have one hundred one hundred year olds ditching their canes and walkers and rising up to his rousing rendition of “Twist and Shout” not once, but twice? 

They gyrated so much that they put down their canes, picked up their phones, and asked a twenty something staffer to help them make an  immediate appointment with their geriatric orthopedist.

Doug regaled us with hilarious stories, like how Juliet Mills ( Hayley’s sister) and her much younger bae, Maxwell Caulfield, fanned out during his concert in Ojai, California, and an ordinary busybody   kept trying to break up their conversation, but.. let’s put it this way, it wasn’t  the NANNY ( Juliet’s rule in “Nanny and the Professor “ ) who kept trying to alert the performer that his fly had been down the entire show.

He did Elvis, Josh Groban, Neil Diamond, Sinatra, and me in my fantasy.

Best of all: this Emmy winning, Tony  nominated 

( for “Jekyll and Hyde”) is coming back as tonight’s entertainment!

He’ll be telling us even more stories about Luna ,his dog, and his back of the neck tattoo that says “Made  in Japan” since he was conceived and born in Okinawa. 

And my excitement is palpable, because tonight, it’s  numbers from Phantom and South Pacific and Les Miz and Sweeney Todd and I’m going to sit in my chair and drown out every note with my own singing.

We googled him when we returned to our stateroom and found out he was Jafar at Disney.

We had just told him earlier about Jim’s cousin, Jonathan,  who originated that role in the  animated movie with Robin Williams,  and he seemed impressed, inferring that it’s a role he was born to play. 

I insulted him earlier  during the performance when I asked him if he were alive during the first appearance by the Beatles(on Ed Sullivan) and Jim said he could definitely see him as Jafar, implying he’s both old and evil.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 

Remember that name: Douglas Ladnier. 

(which I just had to scroll up to do.)

Hilton Head Case

​Today I learned that:

1. long coach bus rides are exhausting. With this South Carolina traffic, I was about to bet the coach wouldn’t get us back until midnight before turning into a pumpkin.

2. Laughing hyenas is an oxymoron. The laughing sound is actually acute distress and anxiety, the sound I’m going to make if I still don’t have new foyer flooring by the month’s end.

3. New foyer flooring is a tongue twister, and Dee Snider is a Twisted Sister, and only one of the few answers I knew in this morning’s game of Rock and Roll Bingo. I should  be ashamed of the fact that I live in New Jersey and got so much Springsteen wrong, and that I’ve been making fun of old people for four days straight, even ‘though  they’ve heard of bands like Molly Hatchett and Golden Earring and Queen Mountain and I never did. I only know Motown and movie scores.

4. Alligators don’t eat when the temperature is below seventy degrees. They can refrain from eating for as much as a month, like  me when I’m not on a cruise. 

5. I hate typing lists.

6. I hate writing out Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy, since I made up everything but the Sean part.

7. And this is the most important thing I learned today: ALL alpha males are assholes, whether they’re egrets, blue herons, alligators, or members of congress.

I am so glad we fought tooth and nail for a place on that swamp boat. Our guide,  Louise, was funny and informative and scary, my kind of woman. She knows a LOT about gators, especially that females can pretty much get whatever  their hearts desire, but males can’t even get  their company. Females get asked to the prom, males sit in their parents’ basements watching porn or Lord of the Rings for the ninetieth time.

Pretty much. 

Louise loves animals.. grew up in Pennsylvania and befriended deer, raccoons, skunks, and rabbits, and one day her father stepped on and accidentally killed her favorite rabbit.

One phrase you don’t want to hear in a conservative household in the northeastern part of Pennsylvania is “ the rabbit died.”

Louise passed around  headless Ernie to the passengers in the boat. Ernie was the name of both her dad and her brother, but this one was a headless gator that visited the taxidermist before she took him on as a prop. 

This was a terrific excursion and we both fell in love with the town of Hilton Head, South Carolina. It reminded us both of the quaintness we love about Maine.. fishing boats and  crashing waves  and cleverly named shops and ice cream stores that sell mouth watering pralines and pecans flavor.

Wanna know how preoccupied I am with sweets on this trip? Louise told us alligators love sweet things like BRIERS and I honestly thought she meant that passengers tossed  over discarded cups with BREYERS  vanilla residue. 

Don’t I seem less bitchy than I did when I started this vacation blog??

More later

Karen.. calm down.. the waves too!

​The only reason I compromised with Jim and agreed to go on this  Civil War themed, MAGA attended trip, was because he guaranteed at least one excursion would center around marine or animal life.

I don’t understand my excitement around alligators and dolphins, but that’s what was  on the table. 

I already had a very intimate encounter with dolphins in Cozumel in January, and alligators eat small Yorkshire terriers until someone is wise enough to turn them into purses, so my attraction to them is complicated to say the least. 

Imagine my chagrin when the captain announced we were being rerouted from Hilton Head, and that it “might” affect some of the excursions we’ve already booked.

Now imagine that chagrin as blinding rage when we’re informed that yes, there still is going to be an alligator encounter ( the dolphins bailed) but Jim and I weren’t going because it was  fully booked!

It was booked because the announcement was made( “ first come, first serve”) via inaudible announcements in the dining room, where the conversation centered around airport delays never died down.

“Karen, calm down!” said   both Jim and Kyla, the cruise director, and my tee shirt. “We can always explore another battleground and historical site in South Carolina.”

“ I’d rather explore Lindsey Graham’s Grindr profile!” I respond. “ get me those alligators!”

Kyla grabs her laptop and gives us the good news: “ okay.. I got you both on the excursion. Only thing is, you’re booked individually on separate boats at separate times”

“Uh huh!! If I’m getting mauled by an alligator today it better be in front of my husband, not someone who’s gonna see it happen and forget about it thirty seconds later!” 

( which could possibly be Jim anyway)

Anyway, problem solved.

We’re both going to be alligator turds at the same time. 

Whew!

Last night’s entertainer was a talented ventriloquist who’s as good as Jeff Dunham but is as right wing as Kid Rock. 

We knew to expect topical political humor, but we didn’t expect an ( admittedly good!) impression of Bill Clinton’s sound byte( “ I did NOT have sex with THAT woman “) to result in a smarmy  puppet dressed like an eagle to say, “ he means Hillary “

Guess who he chose to be his human dummy from the audience? 

It was none other than his dinner table companion, Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy, the retired police chief from Orange County. ( is Orange County Red??) 

Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy gets all masked up and is instructed to open his mouth every time Charlie Kirk- loving Paul Winchell taps him on  his shoulder and makes him say hilariously obscene things, like what he was going to do to his darling Clementine when the show ended, or, if she wasn’t available, what he’d fantasize about doing to governor Gavin “ eight dollars” Newsom.

The crowd loved it, except for us and our Colorado pals. 

I mean, we DID laugh  and we agreed he’s talented, but when the current  unhinged White House occupant is threatening to demolish an entire   country that  very morning,  you don’t make right leaning political jokes and call it fair and balanced. 

Anne introduced us to her fabulous sisters, the marathon runner Mary from Los Angeles and the hilarious Eileen from Virginia. ( haven’t officially met the other sibling, the only boy, their brother from Alaska, or their Fox News watching mom, who’s ninety three and in the definite minority in this family, but I’m hoping to soon)

The ventriloquist was boxing up Jose, his American Eagle puppet ( no I’m not kidding. And he was fodder for borderline racism) as the room emptied out, except for Anne and her sisters and us. 

Wow.. I want to learn ventriloquism just so I can create a new act based around THAT conversation. 

I will call my puppet Mike Johnson unless you folks think it’s too soon.

More later

O’ Savannah!

​O’ Savannah!

Oh I took a lot of notes today/ 

because I felt inspired/

But we needed heavy coats today/

Is that why we’re so tired??

O’ Savannah!

You juicy Georgian peach..

But I gotta be real real with y’all

(She ain’t a Club Med beach!)

I had no sightings of my new found friends today, but I did experience a lot of blog-worthy moments in the Peachtree State.

We started with a somewhat strenuous but doable ( because there wasn’t humidity) Civil War exploration tour. There were many steep steps and uneven surfaces and cobblestones, but I was fine.

The guide was kind of meh.. he talked too fast and walked too fast and couldn’t even answer my question about Savannah’s largest import. 

If he were my high school history teacher, we’d have spiked his coffee thermos and egged his car so if you really want details about the War Between the States, just google Abe Lincoln for a live Q and A. 

Hr did take us to a historical church, the house of worship of some  ex presidents and Forrest Gump.  ( who, coincidentally, is also a friend of many ex presidents!) 

This was the third time I’ve been in a church this year, so when in Rome..

( I didn’t just pray for a booking date that I deserve for WOF this time, I prayed that congress grows a spine this week)

The guide  did point out the  spot where there once was a bench( aka movie prop) that Forrest Gump sat  on while waiting for that bus, telling his whole life story to total strangers, which I just did last night. 

The city of Savannah built an actual bench replica, but too many tourists blocked traffic for photo ops, so it was removed. 

But I’m still seeing that floating white feather and hearing those stirring violins chords of the unforgettable score. 

Oh, before I forget!!

Thank you, Evan, Michelle, and Allan for all your help with the Genius  Game. 

You three are still geniuses, but I’ve got the IQ of Forrest Gump because I saw “ one H on a U” as  “ one handle on an umbrella” when in reality it’s “ one horn on a unicorn.” 

Thanks guys, but that’s all I have to say about that. 

The afternoon excursion to the American Prohibition Museum was much more exciting, despite the dreaded small talk on the trolley that took us there. 

I’m just not into smiling politely and laughing politely at corny jokes, which I refer to as “ corn-a-graphy.”

I never denied I have the tastebuds of a child, which is why anything alcoholic tastes like floor cleaner to me.

(I’m the adult in the ice cream shop ordering flavors like bubblegum and cotton candy)

But just because I don’t imbibe doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a museum that’s all about alcohol and prohibition. 

( I’d go to a museum dedicated to murderers and masturbators too… doesn’t mean I necessarily have to be one)

The museum reminded me of the best we’ve seen in Hollywood.. dramatic lighting and hilarious placards and wax figures in dazzling costumes.  It was all sounds of muted horns and tin Lizzie’s that transported you back to the 1920’s, in a totally immersive and wonderful experience. 

Everyone was given tons of details about the era of flappers and speakeasies, of bootleggers and Al Capone. 

And mostly everybody gathered in an authentic saloon at the end of the tour,  where they were given a complimentary tumbler of bourbon served by a bartender who looked like Pauley Perrette, meaning they forgot every story they had just been told about these roaring twenties. 

I myself wondered if I were alive during that time if I’d cast a vote like a “wet” or a “ dry” voter did, but as a female, I couldn’t vote at all. 

( prohibition was all about politics)

My vote would depend on my day-of-the-week unmentionable. 

Seriously, if you’re ever in Savannah, check this out. 

I do believe WC Fields  and  Dean Martin were there.. at least in “spirit”

The captain just announced that our scheduled stop at Hilton Head tomorrow is cancelled due to high wind conditions.

We’re going instead to Port Royal, South Carolina.

You know as much about the place as I do at this point… but stay tuned.

I’m so looking forward to tonight’s ventriloquist!

Bingo!

​Bingo!!

As in.. we hit the jackpot!!

And I’m not talking Church Lady Bingo, like the dull game  we played yesterday afternoon. 

I’m talking..peeps!!

 We finally met our peeps!!

So instead of just complaining about how wonderful the staff is and the food is and the entertainment is and the excursions are, but it’s meaningless when you feel isolated or like fish out of water..we met …our peeps!

The people who joined our dinner table were not them, but at least their conversation went beyond talking about the food and the temperature of the food. 

Her name was Clementine and I kid you not, she is from ORANGE county. 

He is  retired from law enforcement and his name is Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy. 

Clementine has a sixty three year old daughter and I’m not rude enough to ask her age or if she knew my great grandmother when she lived in North Dakota, which I don’t think my GG ever did, ( live there, come to think of it,) but do the math anyway.

 He was very engaging and animated and enigmatic, saying he likes the Moody Blues and …John Fetterman???

Jim had forbidden me to talk politics this week, but I couldn’t let Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy trash Gavin Newsom just because gas in California is over eight dollars a gallon. 

He was respectful though, and explained the need for our Boys in Blue to always be protected, which I totally agree with! 

But I still think he’s supporting the wrong guy.

As conversation flowed, I wound up telling Clementine and Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy about my adventures thus far trying to be a contestant on WOF, and Sean( oh.. I’m not risking carpal tunnel just for a laugh!) SEAN said, in a way a platonic male friend explains why the guy you hooked up with isn’t returning your calls, (“ he’s just not that into you!”) 

“You’re not getting on the show. You’re not crazy enough “

Oh YEAH, Sean Patrick Michael Liam Seamus Flannery O’Connor Murphy?? 

Do you read my blog???

What do I have to do to prove to you how crazy I am??    

How dare he!!

I’m wasting a lot of time talking about the runner ups when you’re waiting for a description of the winning  peeps. 

We’re currently docked in the lovely Savannah, ( hello, Woodloch friends!) and are waiting for our excursions to begin.. a civil war walking tour and a speakeasy. 

We were thoroughly enjoying last night’s repeat entertainer, Lucas, with his sounds of Simon and Garfunkel and James Taylor and Carole King and Jackson Browne with vocals, sax, guitar, and piano.

I told Jim that if he’d split the complimentary Neapolitan ice cream parfait( welcome back, appetite!) I’d dance with him.

We both noticed the tall, striking blonde who’d been taking over the dance floor for the three nights we’ve been here  with a group of lookalikes we rightly assumed were her siblings, and Jim rightly guessed they were our ages or younger.

PEEPS!!

I’m dancing clumsily when Anne, ( that’s her name, Anne from Denver) approached me to compliment my lip synching and I praised her right back about her energetic dancing.

This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

( until tomorrow or the next day when I decide I hate her.. just kidding!!)

Anne “Dale Carnegie’d” (making friends and influencing people) by asking ME questions instead of talking about herself, as she was curious about all the lyrics I was apparently familiar with. 

I told  her about our love for music from the seventies and eighties and my interest in writing parodies of popular songs and BINGO!

My card was complete!

Jim wanted to watch the NCAA finals ( his alma mater wound up winning!) but knew making friends was more important than a game, so we asked Anne and her husband,Jason, to join us for a camaraderie building word game. 

We’re hoping to recruit her siblings ( from Alaska, California, and Arizona) later on in the week, but from the time they sat down and Jason peeled an orange,  while Jim half heartedly explained the rules of “Slingz”, we knew these bright, witty, progressive, hilarious, younger folks were going to make great playmates in the remaining days we’re here. 

You know me when it comes to competitive boxed games. 

They are the opposite of dull small talkers, as we bared our souls politically and dropped an f- bomb five minutes into the first conversation.

They’re both Ivy Leaguers( Yale and Brown ) and she works at the university of Colorado, while he runs a progressive nonprofit news site in Denver. 

The game was fun, the conversation was stimulating, and the laughs were genuine. 

I’ve been blogging daily about the many highlights of the trip so far.. but making a people connection is one of the best.

Bingo!!

Now let me slather on some sunscreen and get ready for the exciting day.

Not John

​Good morning readers!!

We are sailing, so  I have no idea where we are, but  I could still  pass a cognitive test because I know my name, I could ( probably) count backwards from one hundred by sevens, and I sadly know who the president is. 

We might as well be untrained astronauts on the space shuttle or clothes in the tumbler setting on a dryer. 

This is beyond rocky..it’s Rocky IV!  

But the geezers are complaining  about the rough  waters a lot less than I am,so there’s that. 

I know what a crumudgeon I sound like every time I begin a vacation blog, and just the fact that I use a word like crumudgeon speaks  volumes about me. 

We’re having a much better time than I’m leading you to believe. 

The excursions( three so far) are educational and interesting, the weather has been perfect( except today’s four hour ride on a Tilt-a-Whirl) and the food is varied and delicious and presented beautifully. 

The staff goes the extra mile and the entertainment is wonderful, from the Jimmy Buffet/ Bob Marley calypso show last night to the boat rocking show the night before. 

They even had a Woodloch-like puzzle today that we don’t have to  officially submit for hours. 

The puzzle determines if you’re a genius, which we apparently are, thanks to my Wheel of Fortune prowess and a little help from our brilliant son, DIL, and genius friend Allan.

(Thirty two puzzles where a number followed by a preposition followed by random numbers  needs deciphering .. like “ 16 “O” in a “P”.  Translates to sixteen ounces in a pound.)

My only issue with this trip is our inability to jibe with the Grey Panthers.

I read that a schedule of topics to be discussed today would be available shortly, and I’m already predicting what they’ll be:

Do You Have Iron Poor Blood?

Keeping Up With Those Boner Issues!

Get Off My Lawn!!

The issue is, because of open dining and limited seating, you have no choice but to break bread or matzoh  with your great grandparents, and because every passenger looks exactly the same, you find yourself repeating recycled conversations. 

And nobody’s lost their dentures or bowels at the table yet, so what is wrong with me??

I hate small talk in real life too, which is why I use the landline for emergencies only, but seriously, how much can you listen to a conversation  that starts off with, “I ate so many hors d’oeuvres  at cocktail hour that I think I’m only going to eat this here cotton ball and call it a day!” Or “ you said you’re from New Jersey?? I have a cousin in Montclair!” 

(That’s fifty minutes away  from us but I always  nod politely and say “the  name sounds familiar”  anyway)

Or that classic, “ does your room smell like a sewer too?”

Jim doesn’t like when I’m rude and antisocial, so he  turns into a human Chatty Cathy doll.

Just pull the ring in the back of his neck to hear any of the eight or so  recorded messages:

“Go Blue! But I only went to school in Michigan, I’m from Ohio!” 

( cue the canned laughter)

“ is this your first cruise?”

“I’m a big Elton John fan and even went to his concerts!”

“ thank you for your service!”

( that one I actually like, even if it’s just to a waiter)

“ no, not John. Jim, my name is Jim”

“ my wife is not rudely ignoring you while she’s on her phone”

“ my wife is taking rude notes about you  on her phone for her blog that she will never publish”

“ I’m a retired engineer”

“ no,not John. Jim, my name is Jim “

But you know what??

The great grandparents are all well groomed and sincere and sweet, so I oughtta be  ashamed of myself.”

Off to lunch.. let’s see if it’s gonna stay down!

St Simons Say

​A guide named Theresa who reminded me of Kristen Chenoweth pointed out the beautiful homes and verdant golf courses of this wealthy paradise, frequented by the likes of John Travolta,but the problem is that she narrated mostly everything about Saint Simon’s Island from the comfort of the coach bus,so I now must ask:

Is napping contagious or is it me?

I did wake up in time for the first stop, a beautiful church still standing with its original wood, with the intoxicating scent of fresh lilacs, lavender, and especially the lilies. 

She pointed out the pews that once sat the butts of  Calvin Coolidge, Woodrow Wilson, George Bush, and Jimmy Carter, and while everyone else was in awe, blasphemous me, on Easter Sunday yet, prayed not for healing or for our country, but that I make it to the final step on “Wheel of Fortune “, the one that actually gets me on the air.

Theresa/Kristen pointed out the significance of the magnificent stained glass before we walked outside to see the burial grounds of the  Island’s  most famous residents, married first cousins named Anson and Ellen Dodge. 

Theresa/Kristen told us about a Yankee on her tour from Albany, a few weeks ago, who smugly asked, “ aren’t all Georgians first cousins?”

( he’s not making it to air for WOF either)

I’m sitting on bench, looking at the Atlantic, enjoying the breeze while Jim spent eight dollars on a magnet, just to get enough change to tip the driver. 

The lighthouse was nice( but not compared to what we’ve seen in Maine) and I like the idea that the Sea Island (St Simons) golf course is where the last tournament of the PGA season played  every November. 

I liked seeing the graves of the incestuous cousins  and I liked how we were told about the military significance of putting coins on graves. She pointed out that this is done in Jewish cemeteries, but with stones, and nobody but us knew what the hell she was talking about until she mentioned Schindler’s List. 

This was a nice, relaxing excursion. Nobody witnessed the razor sharp teeth of a marine animal ( because nobody on this bus still has original teeth) but I’m glad we signed up.

Stay tuned…

Something Fishy

Got Georgia on my mind today.. and lotsa sweet treats for my holiday peeps. 

Welcome to Brunswick Georgia! 

I’ll discuss this morning’s ( totally awesome!) excursion momentarily, but let me tell you about last night’s Salute to the Seventies show.   

It turned out not to be that,  but something swapped with a show scheduled later in the week, a one man singer/ saxophonist/ pianist  named Lucas who brought lots of folks endless reasons to bop and weave to Elton  John and Billy Joel, while the octogenarians were comatose,still clutching their glasses of bourbon.  It was fantastic!

Ok. 

Now to recap this amazing excursion on the Lady Jane shrimp boat, with the beautiful rays reflecting on the ripples, the gentle breezes, and the angry birds.

You know how  many ways there are to prepare freshly caught shrimp?

You can boil them, broil them, deep fry them, bake them, lightly salute them….there’s red pepper shrimp and garlic shrimp.. lemon shrimp, pineapple shrimp and …that’s all I have to say about that. 

(And if you don’t get this reference you have no business being on my blog)

 

Oh! 

Before I forget.. 

Cruise Director Kyla announced last night to not pull on the red knob  in the staterooms unless it was a true emergency, and I’m thinking Kyla shouldn’t tell anyone what to pull or when and where to pull it.

Jim  and I  board the coach bus for the five minute drive to the pier when he noticed daggers darting from the eyes from everyone already aboard. 

They were all Arizonans and he was wearing his University of Michigan shirt. 

I told him to ditch the tee he bought yesterday that read, “ Calm Down, It’s Only a Gator” to a custom one that says, “Calm Down, It’s Only a Wolverine.”

( enough college basketball talk)

I feel so patriotic on this American Cruise Line adventure, filled with veterans and proud Americans. 

I begin to softly sing  to all of them, “ oh beautiful, for patriot skies, with amber ( vials of pills??)

The speaker on the Lady Jane looked a lot like Cam Tucker from “Modern Family” and he began to talk about the soft and muddy bottom of the river, plus very interesting information about marine life. 

We were constantly  followed by a flock of angry birds, aggressive pelicans who recognize shrimp boats like dairy state motorists recognize an Old Country Buffet restaurant each time they drive by one. 

The flock was so massive, so Hitchcockian,  that I’m grateful not to be a  petite blond named Tippi. 

There were 572 of them ( yes, I counted!) and one of them kept screaming out the word “ mine!” once the trawl was lowered, and we called  him Nigel because, of course we did. 

“Cam” lowered his trawl a total of three times, and everyone on board anxiously awaited what he’d haul back up. 

There was a tang fish who instructed everyone to just keep swimming.. 

The trawl was lifted, and its contents were put onto a large metal tray. Cam shoveled the undesirables back into the water and put the creatures he wanted to examine more closely into an adjacent tub. 

He holds up a gar fish  ( who I called Teri Garr fish) and began to fondle her from fin to tail. 

( couldn’t he at least buy her dinner first?)

He holds up a large, brown, slimy starfish that looked like a dirty bath mat I was too lazy to clean during the pandemic. Jim was instructed to toss her overboard after everyone had his way with her, and I’m not sure if it was suicide or not.

. I do know that a pelican got a nice healthy lunch. 

We saw way too many creatures to talk about in detail here, but I really liked the sponge. It was very sponge worthy, and it made the excursion one of the most memorable we’ve ever taken in all our years of globe trotting. 

There was also a sea creature that eats a fish’s tongue and becomes the tongue. 

Whatever the fish  eats, it also eats. 

If that doesn’t sound AI, I don’t know what does.

A woman on board the shrimp boat asked me on five different occasions where I was from, despite the words “ New Jersey “ being clearly written on my required lanyard I wore around my neck.

By the fifth inquiry, I just gave up and answered, “ originally Hong Kong,  but I moved to Dayton Ohio to study restless leg syndrome in small primates.”

She seemed pleased.

It’s as good as any answer. 

Today’s dessert was a white chocolate cup filled with raspberry mousse on a plate decorated with a lime drizzle, and  a man at our table remarked that it “ looked like somebody wiped their nose on my plate” so there goes eating for the duration of the trip. 

Stay tuned…​

This ain’t Hollywood

​Why do all the old men at the continental breakfast at four star hotels insist on showing me their burnt toast??

  I mean, as in flipping it over to expose both sides??

I admit that I’m never sure how to work any kind of toaster that isn’t the pop up variety from the nineteen  fifties either. 

You put the bread on the rack and you are certain you’ll never see it again .

You’re also certain that machine wants to eat you, but even when that doesn’t happen, is it necessary to grab the nearest pair of germ ridden tongs and say to a complete stranger, in a non euphemistic way, “ would ja get a load of this toast?”

The after toast breakfast mints were fine, except they were wrapped in titanium.

Jim unwrapped his first, popped it in his mouth, and asked me why the continental breakfast providers are feeding their guests little white balls of soap… which is what the mints tasted like.

Okay.. who wants to keep reading about burnt toast when I instead could describe the trip thus far??

Jim booked this in July, because he hates boring beach vacations, and I hate boring  educational excursions, yet here we are.

I had forgotten the theme this week is The Civil War, an oxymoron right up there with Smart Kardashians.

Frankly my dear,  I could care less about the civil war.. except when confronted by MAGA.

If I could have chosen the theme of the cruise, I’d have picked things that matter to me, like “Gilmore Girls” or poodles.

(Google “ oy with the poodles”..I’ll wait)

Before embarkation, we visited a place called Fort Clinch, and the bus ride was almost totally silent until a guy blurts out that everyone needed to smell his armpit. 

We started in a one room that featured cannonballs that looked like bowling balls, and then it was all plaques and artifacts and ennui.

“They are doing a civil war reenactment outside,” and a guy named Doc who looked like Gerald McRaney stared at me blankly when asked where the reenactment was and what time it started.

“ this ain’t Hollywood,” he answered. “this IS the reenactment “ and then talked Union vs. Confederacy with Jim while I forced my brain to believe we were at a Club Med. 

We hear a loud boom which either came from a working cannon or the “ smell my armpits” guy, 

but Jim did manage to snag a great T-shirt that read,”Calm Down, it’s only a gator.”

By just after noon,we were on this modern, immaculate ship and sat down for  lunch in a beautiful dining room that might as well have been called the Shady Oaks Retirement Home.

( why.. in every state in the Union/Confederacy does every old age  home have the name “Oaks” in it?

Gentle Oaks, Shady Oaks, Red Oaks, White Oaks, Red,White and Blue Oaks.. Sketchy Oaks for Kvetchy Folks… oak—kay, you get the idea.)

We dined with a truck driver and a woman who’s a  fisherman from Nebraska.  

Jim is forcing me to be sociable and  to small talk,so I let these heartlanders talk away, ( they were actually very sweet) as they claimed to be siblings but I  could have sworn they were a married couple, like it actually matters in Nebraska.

I’m awful,aren’t??

The conversation started to get interesting when Joe, the female,talked about her kid in Minneapolis,but Jim forbids me to say anything controversial so we talked about walleyes.

Ok.. time to see how many people can stay up for  the lounge entertainment, a musical tribute to the seventies.

The seventies.. most passengers haven’t seen that decade in a century..

More later

On the road to Amelia

​Why is this day different than all other days??

On all other days, I’d be reclining with my  bare feet up on a lounger, remote in one hand, phone in the other, belching up the chocolate protein shake I had earlier that morning, complaining about the unpredictable weather while waiting for “The View” to start.

On all other days, I’d be looking at my  overpacked suitcase in the dated  tiled foyer, waiting for the airport taxi, while my poor miniature  poodle had a full blown anxiety attack, noticing the luggage and wondering how many days that meant we’d be gone.

But on this day, this trip, we no longer have a tiled foyer. 

We have a bare cement one, courtesy of leaky pipes. 

( May flooding be the only plague we are subjected to, although we’re Florida bound, so I can’t guarantee we’re not going to encounter some angry frogs, boils,  pestilence, and  UFOs)

And sadly, this day is different from all other (trip)  days because we only have memories of that hyper poodle who’d bark at suitcases like they were home invaders. 

( but those memories are nonetheless cherished ones)

We’re in the air, Jacksonville-bound. 

Jacksonville, Florida… famous for  the.. 

I have no clue.

 I’ll find out when we land.

Or I won’t.

But it’s the airport you fly to the day before you board the ship, the Glory, on a seven day excursion on the Intercoastal Waterway on American Cruise Lines.

We are in our seventies and will be the youngest on board, as I anticipate it’s going to be eighty percent MAGA and twenty percent people I don’t want to get to know.

 

I can already hear those staffers on the excursion buses, where a fifteen minute ride is going to feel like a three hour tour.

A three hour tour. 

( those words should but don’t rhyme. Who knows why??)

And this is for you, Rita!

When the staffers encourage us to join in for a rousing round of “ 99 bottles of beer on the wall” I’m gonna sing my own lyrics:

 “Ninety nine  is the median age.. of everyone on this ship. Ninety want their dinners at four.. ninety broke a hip!”

Our departure port is Amelia Island.

There’s something about Amelia and boy, am I ever dating myself with that reference.

I like dating myself.. I am good company. 

Stay tuned.