There has been a lot of talk lately about “bucket lists” – things you want to do before you die. I am not sure I like the term bucket list, it seem rather morbid to me, but that does not mean I do not have a list of Lynn’s Life Dreams waiting to be ticked off as complete. Of course, having already done the #1 thing on my Life Dream list, I was at a loss for other things to populate the tick make boxes. But I think I have come up with a fairly good list:
□ Visit the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, Russia – I did this in 2000. I walked up and down the Jordan Staircase and walked where Tsar Nicholas II had. I looked out windows to the Neva River, seeing much the same view Tsar Nicholas II saw. I had dreamed of that moment since I was 13 and learned the story of Grand Duchess Anastasia. It was a dream come true moment.
□ Visit Perth, Australia – I read somewhere that Perth is the most isolated city in the world; it is further from another city than any other place in the world, and the closest city to Perth isn’t even in Australia. I do not know if that is true, but it made me want to visit Perth nonetheless. I have no idea what is in Perth, but that does not deter me from wanting to be there to see it.
□ Visit Oslo, Norway and Copenhagen, Denmark – I have been to Stockholm and Helsinki, so Olso and Copenhagen would complete the Scandinavian capitals tour. Besides, I enjoyed being in the Baltic so much that I am looking for any excuse to go back.
□ See the Midnight Sun with my husband – he once mentioned to me that he dreamt of seeing the Midnight Sun and whether he remembers that comment or not, I would love to share that experience with him.
□ Introduce my favorite places to my husband – seeing my favorite places through another set of eyes is one of the best parts of traveling and I can’t wait to explore the world – old favorites and new discoveries alike with him.
□ Have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens in Quebec City, Canada – I tried on my first visit to the city to have a meal there, but it never worked out, and on subsequent visits, I have deliberately not attempted, knowing in my own mind that when I finally do get there it will be my last visit to the City, so I am saving that for a much later visit.
□ Visit at least one UNESCO World Heritage List site in every country on my must-visit list – I have ticked off three or four, but only two after I knew the list existed.
□ See Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland – my great aunt took classes at Trinity College when she lived in Ireland with her first husband. She was a fantastic lady and I adored everything about her. And while she never really talked all that much about her time in Ireland with me, I know she loved every minute she was there. Trinity College Library is as much about experiencing a moment of her life as it as is seeing the books and being enveloped in the history housed there.
It’s not a long or comprehensive list, but it is the list of things that would be considered my Life Dream List. Sitting down and categorizing them as must-do things makes them seem impossible dreams. And while my life will not in any way be incomplete if I do not tick off the boxes, having the list makes me feel as though each passing minute I delay even one of them is a wasted moment.
Best be off to plan the next adventure then...
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Seeing Red, Green, and Black?
The building I work in has made a decision to “Going Green.”
To that end, management has implemented several new policies, including touchless, battery-operated towel and soap dispensers in the ladies’ room – I can only assume that similar changes were made in the men’s room as well – and cutting the climate control system off overnight and all day on the weekends. My opinion is that these are feel-good measures, rather than having any real environmental impact at all.
Quite aside from my invisibility to touchless dispensers, I am not convinced that their use in the building is more environmentally friendly. Prior to the installation of the touchless devices, we had manually operated soap and towel dispensers – the kind where you pulled a lever for a pre-measured squirt of soap or length of paper towel. The system worked, and worked well, even in the event of loss of power in the building. While the new touchless devices are battery-operated, I am not sure they are any more environmentally friendly. Batteries are notorious as land-fill cloggers, and added to that, they leak dangerous chemicals if ruptured (or even over time as they age). Recycling batteries is a hit or miss prospect and while I have never seen anything to the contrary, I doubt the batteries used in the touchless devices are of the rechargeable variety. This means that on first glance, the building, in a effort to “Go Green,” has actually installed a product that is more harmful to the environment than what it replaced. I will need to see the studies on the waste produced by manually operated soap and towel dispensers as compared to the environmental savings gained by using battery-operated ones.
Likewise, I will need to see the research on the environmental savings in shutting off the climate control system in a 28-story building versus maintaining a reasonable temperature 24 hours a day. By that I mean, is it truly more environmentally sound to heat or cool the building during working hours only to have to repeat the process every morning? I would think it would take less energy to maintain the temperature, than it would to counteract the heating/cooling that took place overnight. Twenty-eight stories is a great deal of air, and hot air rises, meaning that on summer nights in New Orleans, which often do not drop below 80°, there is a huge column of air to be cooled in the mornings. Similarly at night in the winter, there are twenty-eight floors of air-space for the hot air to rise through, leaving the lower floors icy. The problem is compounded when you consider that floors 2 though 9 are a parking garage, open to the elements and subject to the heat produced by countless cars driving and parking every day. I am not so sure the decision to turn off the climate control system is environmentally sound. I am more likely to believe it is bottom-line building-operations sound.
This is not to say that I am against “Going Green.” I am all for reducing our collective impact on the environment. But I think the choices made need to result in a true reduction of environmental impact, rather than being feel-good measures driven not by a commitment to the environment, but by commitments to the bottom line. The number on the bottom of the balance sheet should not be more important. If it is one is not “Going Green,” one is “Going Black.”
To that end, management has implemented several new policies, including touchless, battery-operated towel and soap dispensers in the ladies’ room – I can only assume that similar changes were made in the men’s room as well – and cutting the climate control system off overnight and all day on the weekends. My opinion is that these are feel-good measures, rather than having any real environmental impact at all.
Quite aside from my invisibility to touchless dispensers, I am not convinced that their use in the building is more environmentally friendly. Prior to the installation of the touchless devices, we had manually operated soap and towel dispensers – the kind where you pulled a lever for a pre-measured squirt of soap or length of paper towel. The system worked, and worked well, even in the event of loss of power in the building. While the new touchless devices are battery-operated, I am not sure they are any more environmentally friendly. Batteries are notorious as land-fill cloggers, and added to that, they leak dangerous chemicals if ruptured (or even over time as they age). Recycling batteries is a hit or miss prospect and while I have never seen anything to the contrary, I doubt the batteries used in the touchless devices are of the rechargeable variety. This means that on first glance, the building, in a effort to “Go Green,” has actually installed a product that is more harmful to the environment than what it replaced. I will need to see the studies on the waste produced by manually operated soap and towel dispensers as compared to the environmental savings gained by using battery-operated ones.
Likewise, I will need to see the research on the environmental savings in shutting off the climate control system in a 28-story building versus maintaining a reasonable temperature 24 hours a day. By that I mean, is it truly more environmentally sound to heat or cool the building during working hours only to have to repeat the process every morning? I would think it would take less energy to maintain the temperature, than it would to counteract the heating/cooling that took place overnight. Twenty-eight stories is a great deal of air, and hot air rises, meaning that on summer nights in New Orleans, which often do not drop below 80°, there is a huge column of air to be cooled in the mornings. Similarly at night in the winter, there are twenty-eight floors of air-space for the hot air to rise through, leaving the lower floors icy. The problem is compounded when you consider that floors 2 though 9 are a parking garage, open to the elements and subject to the heat produced by countless cars driving and parking every day. I am not so sure the decision to turn off the climate control system is environmentally sound. I am more likely to believe it is bottom-line building-operations sound.
This is not to say that I am against “Going Green.” I am all for reducing our collective impact on the environment. But I think the choices made need to result in a true reduction of environmental impact, rather than being feel-good measures driven not by a commitment to the environment, but by commitments to the bottom line. The number on the bottom of the balance sheet should not be more important. If it is one is not “Going Green,” one is “Going Black.”
Monday, October 18, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Desiring Little Luxuries
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress:
I saw this dress in a catalog just yesterday and already it is taking over my thoughts. I am nearly obsessed with this dress. I want it. I have no where to wear it; I already have four party dresses that do not get enough wear, I really do not need another one. Though this one could replace one that I like in theory but not so much on me. But there again, I would still have four party dresses and no where to wear them. My current lifestyle does not lend itself to occasions to wear party dresses (this from the person who takes a cruise a year), and it's doubtful that in the future my lifestyle will be any different. So, can I justify the expense of another party dress to just hang in my closet looking pretty?
A while ago, my family had a discussion on determining the difference between needs and wants. One needs food, clothing, and shelter. One wants caviar, custom-tailored suits, and a vacation home. By those criteria, this dress falls into a want. And it is definitely a want. I know that. The dress is impractical for day-to-day wear, cannot be worn to the office, and is really limited as to the places I can wear it. It's a want. I know that. But when does something stop being a want and become something that is an allowable indulgence? At just under $100, it's not really that much of an indulgence. And it is a dry clean only dress, so I have to figure the cost of laundering into the cost of the dress. I can afford the dress and the dry cleaning. So the issue is not that buying the dress would mean a sacrifice of a necessity. The dress is a pure luxury.
Which is definitely why I am having such a hard time saying no to myself. Do I deserve such a luxury? Do I need such a luxury?
Need versus Want.
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress I want.
A while ago, my family had a discussion on determining the difference between needs and wants. One needs food, clothing, and shelter. One wants caviar, custom-tailored suits, and a vacation home. By those criteria, this dress falls into a want. And it is definitely a want. I know that. The dress is impractical for day-to-day wear, cannot be worn to the office, and is really limited as to the places I can wear it. It's a want. I know that. But when does something stop being a want and become something that is an allowable indulgence? At just under $100, it's not really that much of an indulgence. And it is a dry clean only dress, so I have to figure the cost of laundering into the cost of the dress. I can afford the dress and the dry cleaning. So the issue is not that buying the dress would mean a sacrifice of a necessity. The dress is a pure luxury.
Which is definitely why I am having such a hard time saying no to myself. Do I deserve such a luxury? Do I need such a luxury?
Need versus Want.
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress I want.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Super Powers?
I have long held that my super power is that of invisibility. More times than I care to count, people overlook me or forget I am in the room or, more often, forget that someone is within listening distance. This is not altogether a bad thing; I find out things I am not supposed to, or am often privy to what are assumed to be personal conversations. Not that I ever tell the secrets I learn this way, but it is a nice perk to being invisible.
Sometimes, being invisible has its disadvantages. I will not tell you how many times I got stuck in the automatic revolving door at the hotel connected to my office building because the sensor could not see me. But lately, my invisibility has been causing bigger problems.
For reasons unbeknownst to me (no doubt as part of the “Going Green” campaign – I will discuss that more later), my building has installed touchless soap and towel dispensers in the ladies’ rooms. While this sounds like a good idea – it’s more sanitary, less wasteful and all that, my invisibility creates problems – often I cannot get the soap to dispense. This makes it sound, to the ohh-so-observant occupant of the stall, like I am not using soap to wash my hands. And if by some miracle I get the machine to squirt out a drop of pre-foamed soap, I cannot get the towel dispenser to see me, so I walk around with wet hands, or am forced to use the toilet paper to dry my hands. (I suppose I should be thankful no one has developed a touchless toilet paper dispenser.)
It’s not so much that I object to the touchless dispensers, I can really see some sense in them, but please, for those of us who are invisible, would it be possible to put in a manual override?
Sometimes, being invisible has its disadvantages. I will not tell you how many times I got stuck in the automatic revolving door at the hotel connected to my office building because the sensor could not see me. But lately, my invisibility has been causing bigger problems.
For reasons unbeknownst to me (no doubt as part of the “Going Green” campaign – I will discuss that more later), my building has installed touchless soap and towel dispensers in the ladies’ rooms. While this sounds like a good idea – it’s more sanitary, less wasteful and all that, my invisibility creates problems – often I cannot get the soap to dispense. This makes it sound, to the ohh-so-observant occupant of the stall, like I am not using soap to wash my hands. And if by some miracle I get the machine to squirt out a drop of pre-foamed soap, I cannot get the towel dispenser to see me, so I walk around with wet hands, or am forced to use the toilet paper to dry my hands. (I suppose I should be thankful no one has developed a touchless toilet paper dispenser.)
It’s not so much that I object to the touchless dispensers, I can really see some sense in them, but please, for those of us who are invisible, would it be possible to put in a manual override?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Thoughts of Home
I grew up in a single family home, with a nice sized yard, complete with the requisite azalea bush hedge and shade trees suitable for swings. I lived in the middle of a block of similar homes. There are four other houses with identical layouts to mine on the block interspersed among 4 other available plans; the result of the post-Post-War building boom. I have nothing against my house. It's well constructed, well insulated and has held up to 35+ years of a family's life.
But now, as I am getting to the point in my life when it is possible to have my very own dream house, I have begun to ponder what I want in that dream house. And I have decided that I want a townhome – the bigger-than-apartments, but still shared-wall structures common to downtown, urban areas and transition neighborhoods. From the time I was very little, the townhomes I saw were always the epitome of luxury to me – stately, chic and elegant, large enough to be useful, and yet not too large for practicality. It helped that most of the ones I saw had mailslots instead of mailboxes and mailslots have always been an unattainable luxury to me, especially the shiny brass ones with too cute brass baskets on the backside to catch the mail as it slips into the house. But I have always thought it would be wonderful to live in a townhome. I am sure there were less than elegant things associated with sharing walls, as well as yards and parking spaces with your neighbors, but the elegance of the dream always outweighed any negatives.
No matter how I come to work in the mornings, or go home in the evenings, I pass several groups of townhomes – downtown I pass the older townhomes, sharing walls not only with other homes, but with store-fronts, galleries, professional offices, restaurants, museums, etc. in an area of the city, known quite fittingly as the Arts District. I watch as the old structures are renovated one at a time, with their insides finished in the sleek hardwoods and granite that are popular today, while their outsides are stuck in bygone eras of their initial construction.
In my much more suburban, residential neighborhood, I pass a purpose-built development of townhomes from the late 1960's, each block of homes nearly identical, with manicured and landscaped lawns in front and neat, trim, tidy walkways leading from the community areas.
As I pass each unit walking along the quiet suburban street, or waiting for my ride on the busier downtown thoroughfare, I daydream about begin home there – curling up with my books and a nice mug of steamy cocoa on wintry nights, hanging Christmas stockings on the stairs, throwing open the windows to let in the glorious rush of spring turning to summer air, kicking through the fall leaves as I walk up the path on crisp autumn evenings. Yes, they are the style of home I can imagine myself living in.
I may not ever get my dream home in one, but I think I will always have a soft spot for the potential ... and my urbane, sophisticated secret identity who could live there.
But now, as I am getting to the point in my life when it is possible to have my very own dream house, I have begun to ponder what I want in that dream house. And I have decided that I want a townhome – the bigger-than-apartments, but still shared-wall structures common to downtown, urban areas and transition neighborhoods. From the time I was very little, the townhomes I saw were always the epitome of luxury to me – stately, chic and elegant, large enough to be useful, and yet not too large for practicality. It helped that most of the ones I saw had mailslots instead of mailboxes and mailslots have always been an unattainable luxury to me, especially the shiny brass ones with too cute brass baskets on the backside to catch the mail as it slips into the house. But I have always thought it would be wonderful to live in a townhome. I am sure there were less than elegant things associated with sharing walls, as well as yards and parking spaces with your neighbors, but the elegance of the dream always outweighed any negatives.
No matter how I come to work in the mornings, or go home in the evenings, I pass several groups of townhomes – downtown I pass the older townhomes, sharing walls not only with other homes, but with store-fronts, galleries, professional offices, restaurants, museums, etc. in an area of the city, known quite fittingly as the Arts District. I watch as the old structures are renovated one at a time, with their insides finished in the sleek hardwoods and granite that are popular today, while their outsides are stuck in bygone eras of their initial construction.
I may not ever get my dream home in one, but I think I will always have a soft spot for the potential ... and my urbane, sophisticated secret identity who could live there.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Au Revoir Quebec, Pour Maintenant
My second day in Quebec dawned and we had no real plans. I wanted to take some pictures of the things I had missed the day before, and have a wander, and my brother wanted to eat ashore one more time before the cruise ended. So after breakfast, we headed out for a day of adventuring.
We set out to show our parents a few interesting things we had learned on our tour the previous day and to head to the Funiculaire for another trip[ to Upper Town. One day I am going to brave the Escalier Casse-Cou, but I think I may brave it down rather than up. To me, it's much like the stairs at St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal – it’s a lovely idea to make the pilgrimage and go up the mountain on the stairs, but I am not ready to do it. And I am not sure I’ll ever be patient or penitent enough to take the pilgrimage to the Oratory on my knees. But I am thinking one day I will make up and down the Escalier Casse-Cou, probably the same trip I finally have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens, but those are adventures to save for another time. This time, we took the Funiculaire to the top and headed over to Place d’Armes to discuss our plan for the day. My brother and I both had souvenirs to buy and places to visit, and Mom and Dad just wanted to be out in the gorgeous spring weather. We split off at the Place d’Armes with reminders to make it back to the ship before sailway, which had been moved up and hour due to higher than usual tides, and the fact that the ship had to make it under a bridge to get to Montreal. We promised we would not miss sailaway, and to hold everyone to that, I decided to procure snacks for our personal sailaway festivities.
After leaving our parents, we took a walk down the Dufferin Terrace, stopping to enjoy the view out to the St. Lawrence River. Along the way, we checked out the excavation site for the 400th Anniversary of Quebec, excited to see that the history will be preserved. I am always town between preserving the history and making it accessible for everyone. I did my honors thesis in college on tourist-caused damage, focusing mainly on unintentional damage – ruts worn in floors or stair treads, the wearing down or altering of stalactites/stalagmites in caves from body oils, temperature and humidity changes just due to more people in a space than it was intended to house – rather than overt acts of vandalism. Since then, I cannot look at historical sites without wondering the cost in terms of tourist-caused damage as opposed to the educational or economic benefit. It’s a trade-off and there are no good answers. Nothing makes things as real as actually experiencing them, but at the same time, in experiencing them, we are destroying them for future generations. Like I said, there are no good answers. A friend quotes another friend who maintained she was a good tourist, as she never left the path. I am not sure if that is not the answer. People being how they are, want hands-on experiences, and leaving the path is a must for that.
After the not at all disappointing journey through the bottle shop, we headed back down to lower town. We were still on the hunt for souvenirs and we wanted to find the second fresco, so we took a walk and we did something strange. Instead of taking our usual path back to the ship, we turned left! And we found a whole new shopping area, just the kind we, as tourists, were looking for. It was not a secret area, but it was new to us and I reveled in the trip down the cobbled street. Almost at the end, we found the second fresco, as well as a Lush and a sugar shack storefront, where we indulged in maple sugar goodness of all kinds, including maple sugar sandwich cookies for sailaway.
Walking back from the Lush, and having had our appetites piqued by the maple sugary goodness on offer at the suiar shack, we decided we were ready for lunch, and while we hated to miss a stop at the “everything on a Belgian waffle” place we enjoy so much, we did not want to head back to Upper Town, so we walked along the cobblestone streets until we found a bistro that was calling to us. And I am so glad we did! Bistro du Cap was fantastic. It is the kind of place that can easily be overlooked by those faux-gourmands who think that nothing good can come from a place that looks less than perfect. Don’t let the looks of the place fool you. The menu appears to be two-fold – a section of always-available crêpes and sandwiches a section of ever-changing daily specials, based on what is fresh and good at the market that morning. We ordered some from both sections. I ordered a bowl of soup, which was supposed to be gazpacho, but ended up being cream of asparagus, a beautifully blended, rich, creamy soup with none of the woodiness I find common to asparagus. I followed the soup with smoked salmon crostini – thin slices of smoked salmon over an herbed cream cheese on crisp, crunchy baguette rounds. My brother had the cream of asparagus soup (his was always intended to be cream of asparagus) and the sautéed chicken liver salad. We each shared a bit of the others' main dish, and those sautéed chicken livers are definitely made it to the list of the top five best things I have ever eaten. After my foray into an unusual surf and turf heaven, we lingered over a fresh berry crêpe before heading back to the ship for sailaway.
While the idea of starting a new life in Quebec appeals to both of us, it was time to head back to the ship and back to our real lives. The delightful 15-day escape was coming to an end and it was time. I missed my home, my own bed, my cat, and my dearest. The adventures are always wonderful and exciting, but it is nice to get back to my routine and the never-mundane reality.
Sailaway was interesting. Despite numerous warnings, printed in the daily schedule, on huge, prominent signs at the gangway and security checkpoints, and announcements from the bridge, that the time for departure had been moved up an hour, two couples were left in Quebec. We did not, however, leave them gape-mouthed on the dock. More's the pity. The ship waited as long as possible, which was not very, given the fact that we had to make it under the bridge before the tide came in, and then, the ship’s whistle echoing off the side of the hill, we waved a fond farewell to Quebec. Our own little sailaway was festive with the cookies and cider, and the beautifully setting sun. It was all in all, a perfect end to a great cruise.
During our last dinner aboard, sailing along the St. Lawrence, I was so happy the sun set enough to allow me to open the curtains and watch as Quebec disappeared over the horizon. It was a smooth night on the river, great for packing, and for sleeping. The next morning dawned and there we were, docked in Montreal with the sun rising through Habitat and the cruise had ended. the trip to the airport was uneventful, save seeing Tarp Guy in actual clothing, and the flight home, while delayed out of Montreal, got us to New Orleans early and after getting a quick dinner from the ohh-so-usual McDonald's, we headed to beds that we could still feel rocking with the motion of the journey.
We set out to show our parents a few interesting things we had learned on our tour the previous day and to head to the Funiculaire for another trip[ to Upper Town. One day I am going to brave the Escalier Casse-Cou, but I think I may brave it down rather than up. To me, it's much like the stairs at St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal – it’s a lovely idea to make the pilgrimage and go up the mountain on the stairs, but I am not ready to do it. And I am not sure I’ll ever be patient or penitent enough to take the pilgrimage to the Oratory on my knees. But I am thinking one day I will make up and down the Escalier Casse-Cou, probably the same trip I finally have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens, but those are adventures to save for another time. This time, we took the Funiculaire to the top and headed over to Place d’Armes to discuss our plan for the day. My brother and I both had souvenirs to buy and places to visit, and Mom and Dad just wanted to be out in the gorgeous spring weather. We split off at the Place d’Armes with reminders to make it back to the ship before sailway, which had been moved up and hour due to higher than usual tides, and the fact that the ship had to make it under a bridge to get to Montreal. We promised we would not miss sailaway, and to hold everyone to that, I decided to procure snacks for our personal sailaway festivities.
After my musings on preservation efforts, we headed off into Upper Town. We got some pictures and then came back to investigate the bottle shop at the Château Frontenac. We wanted to see what was to be had – it’s always interesting to see American wines as “imports” in bottle shops. It makes me remember that no matter what we thing, the United States of America is not the only country in the world. It’s a slice of humble pie more Americans should take a bite of more often. We saw wines, including some very delicious looking ice wine and cider – though I have only soft-sided luggage and could not pack home bottles of more than 3 ounces. And 3 ounces of ice wine is not enough to satisfy my desire for the yummy, sweet, smooth nectar. It may be true that ambrosia is the nectar of the Gods, but ice wine is the nectar of the Lynn. At the check-out counter, we found a small bottle of ice cider, similar to what we tasted the day before, large enough to share and still reasonably priced (which, truth be told, is my biggest hindrance to ice wine on a regular basis). We indulged in the small bottle for sailaway festivities.
Walking back from the Lush, and having had our appetites piqued by the maple sugary goodness on offer at the suiar shack, we decided we were ready for lunch, and while we hated to miss a stop at the “everything on a Belgian waffle” place we enjoy so much, we did not want to head back to Upper Town, so we walked along the cobblestone streets until we found a bistro that was calling to us. And I am so glad we did! Bistro du Cap was fantastic. It is the kind of place that can easily be overlooked by those faux-gourmands who think that nothing good can come from a place that looks less than perfect. Don’t let the looks of the place fool you. The menu appears to be two-fold – a section of always-available crêpes and sandwiches a section of ever-changing daily specials, based on what is fresh and good at the market that morning. We ordered some from both sections. I ordered a bowl of soup, which was supposed to be gazpacho, but ended up being cream of asparagus, a beautifully blended, rich, creamy soup with none of the woodiness I find common to asparagus. I followed the soup with smoked salmon crostini – thin slices of smoked salmon over an herbed cream cheese on crisp, crunchy baguette rounds. My brother had the cream of asparagus soup (his was always intended to be cream of asparagus) and the sautéed chicken liver salad. We each shared a bit of the others' main dish, and those sautéed chicken livers are definitely made it to the list of the top five best things I have ever eaten. After my foray into an unusual surf and turf heaven, we lingered over a fresh berry crêpe before heading back to the ship for sailaway.
While the idea of starting a new life in Quebec appeals to both of us, it was time to head back to the ship and back to our real lives. The delightful 15-day escape was coming to an end and it was time. I missed my home, my own bed, my cat, and my dearest. The adventures are always wonderful and exciting, but it is nice to get back to my routine and the never-mundane reality.
Sailaway was interesting. Despite numerous warnings, printed in the daily schedule, on huge, prominent signs at the gangway and security checkpoints, and announcements from the bridge, that the time for departure had been moved up an hour, two couples were left in Quebec. We did not, however, leave them gape-mouthed on the dock. More's the pity. The ship waited as long as possible, which was not very, given the fact that we had to make it under the bridge before the tide came in, and then, the ship’s whistle echoing off the side of the hill, we waved a fond farewell to Quebec. Our own little sailaway was festive with the cookies and cider, and the beautifully setting sun. It was all in all, a perfect end to a great cruise.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Feeling My Age
The same message board where I participated in the Spring Book Challenge is having a Fall Book Challenge, and while I am not participating in this one, I read over the tasks. One of the tasks is to read a book about something that happened on your birthday. One of the participants commented that they were going to read a book on the fall of the Berlin Wall as Germany began dismantling the Wall on her birthday, her exact birthday -- November 10, 1989. (Aside, mine would be easy, Krakatoa erupted on my birthday, albeit 90 years earlier than I was born -- a fact my mother never lets me forget -- and since I want to read the book Krakatoa: The Day the Earth Exploded: August 27, 1883, it would be a fun task for me.)
I feel terribly old now. I was in high school at the time. I remember that history, not from a book, but from actually living it, actually watching it unfold in front of me. A friend was in Germany not long after the Wall fell and brought back pieces of the Wall for everyone. It's not history if it's a part of my life. It cannot be. I cannot be old enough to be a part of history! I will not allow it.
I feel terribly old now. I was in high school at the time. I remember that history, not from a book, but from actually living it, actually watching it unfold in front of me. A friend was in Germany not long after the Wall fell and brought back pieces of the Wall for everyone. It's not history if it's a part of my life. It cannot be. I cannot be old enough to be a part of history! I will not allow it.
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