WHY I USE BLOGGER

A long time ago, in a far away land, when we were limited to the amount of words we could use in our postings on AOL, I was always in trouble.

I can not spell. I have my theories on this. I read quite a bit when I am able, so I usually recognize the words are wrong. I loved the dictionary/thesaurus drop down AOL use to have (boo for removing it and replacing it with a slower and complicated upgraded version). Yet, quite a few snafus got past me. If I go back and re-read some of my very early entries, I cringe at the spelling, grammar and syntax. Not that I am much better now!

I think it was the Nuns at the Catholic Grammar school. They were on the cutting edge of educating the Baby Boomers and taught us to read using Phonics. That doomed me to be a rotten speller ever since first grade.

I read in Time magazine years and years ago that there is a spelling dyslexia. A part of the brain that can have trouble. Yes, that's the ticket! There it is. I have a brain problem with spelling. So did F. Scott Fitzgerald. They said he was the worst and sometimes they had no idea what the hell he was trying to write! When we read his brilliant writing we should wonder....F. Scott, or the Editor?

So that is how and why I ended up with Blogger. I have been using it for a long time. I find that if I write my entries here there is the semi-wonderful spell check. I am able to copy my entries and transfer then without any trouble with the Html. It was near impossible writing my entries in mail and transferring it.

Html hell.

THE PAIN THE PAIN

Joe and I went to this little shop in a small town in Ohio, about 30 miles away. It was a quaint shop with many bottles of wine, candy, cigars and baskets. They would make divine gift baskets I think.

I bought peanut brittle and proceeded to eat it on the way home. For breakfast.

About an hour later, I began to get a pain. A sharp pain. Like someone is jabbing a knife into my chest....just under my left rib cage. It hurts, tiny thrusts of searing pain, then it goes away. Sometimes it really hurts, other times it just is an annoyance.

I finally went to Walmart and bought some acid reflux medication. I swallowed it on the way out of the store, as the pain hit me several times while there.

I thought I had it licked, but just a moment ago it hit me again. Just once. Letting me know I have not conquered it.

My liver?

God knows I drink enough for one person. In my lifetime, I probably have drunk enough to kill several people. Of Irish heritage, hailing from Kentucky. We are the worst of the lot when it comes to slugging them back.

In 2003 I thought I had totally destroyed myself and my innards after the Derby Eve Slither and a long evening of drinking cheap beer. I laid on the couch all Derby Day with a terrible pain in my right side. It lingered for a long time. It has finally gone away. I think my liver has petrified.

When ever it hurts anywhere in my stomach area, I'm certain it is my liver.

Trip Planner

Joe wants to start planning a trip for next year. He has decided on the first few weeks of January! So far his web searches have included a week on South Beach for five nights with air fare, approx. $800 for the two of us.

Then he found a cruise on Carnival $269 per and some great airfare of $169 each.

I, on the other hand purchased the new copy of Budget Travel and found a trip to Madrid for six nights from Chicago $619 each. London, $499 each for four nights.

Dominican Republic, all inclusive, four nights $499 each.

Decisions, decisions.

And there is always Italy. But, I would need at least two weeks for that.

Generation Gap

"What type of music do you listen to?" my new co-worker asked me. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. His counter part, my other co-worker, leaned forward as well.

I turned towards them and announced, "Celtic music, jazz, blues and as of lately, a lot of Mexican music."

Nothing. They said nothing. Both of them blank, just taking it in. Maybe it was because I pronounced Celtic with the hard "K", unlike the way most Americans recognize it pronounce as in the Boston "Celtics".

Maybe it was because Dave is 27 and Matt is 25.

I might as well have said that I listen to Mariachis Music, while dancing the merengue, throwing knives and tossing back tequila.

After a long pause Dave said "I listen to music I can understand".

Smart Aleck.

It's like working with my daughter and her friends!

DISCLAIMER
I am having second thoughts about opening up this journal. After all, this was my journal that hardly anyone read and so I felt very anonymous. I was able to really write what I wanted without a care in the world. I have changed all that and now I feel that Alphawoman has barged in here and I am not so certain I like it.

The real Mary is different from Alpha. Alpha is the woman I think I am in my head. Smart, funny, sometimes witty. Sugar and Spice. Will the real Slim Shady please stand up? It certainly isn't Alpha. Alpha is like my alter ego. The good part of me.

I love this journal, which I first titled Mary, Mary Quite Contrary. I don't think I am going to alter things.

Proceed with caution, because I am not really all that nice. lol.

TINKERBELLE

Somebody should have told me!

We are under a Wind Advisory in North East Indiana. And they are not joking, the wind is pretty strong. Strong enough to make it near impossible to open and close a car door. No one told me that I should expect such fierce winds. Since the land is so flat up here maybe they thought I could figure it out.

The wind and rain have stripped off the beautiful leaves and have sent them dancing all over the streets and lawns. The kids next door came over during the week and made me an offer I could not refuse. To rake my leaves. For $5..........each! Such enterprise should be rewarded.

I guess I will grow accustomed to the Wind Advisory Alerts. Since I found out the hard way snow around these parts is not cause for concern. I will not be receiving the obligatory Snow Alerts that are common a little further south.

Last March I was up here and walked outside and it was a blizzard! At least six inches since I had entered the apartment only hours before. No Bread, Milk and Beer Alerts for these seasoned Mid-Westerners.

I usually do not write much about Joe's family, as we are a blended family and I feel that their privacy is important. But I have to announce that Joe is now A GRANDPA!!!! And I guess I am a Step-Grandma.

Hopefully pictures to come. He went home to see the latest addition to the family. I gave him my camera. You have seen (the last post with that blurry picture of a travel weary Alphawoman) his handiwork with a camera.

I can only hope.

Welcome to the world Tinkerbelle.

THE SEVENTIES (as I remember it)

When I started to blog, on line journal, I was hoping to write the story of my life. I thought it had some value, was interesting and entertaining. What I did not count on was being caught up in the Journal Community over at AOL. So, I departed from the original plan and began to combine my past with my present.

Yesterday one of the radio stations I listen to announced a week-end dedicated to all the music from the 1970's. Most of the music they played yesterday was awful The top five artists! Bah humbug. Paul McCartney and "Uncle Albert"...please, Elton John "Crocodile Rock", where was "Tiny Dancer"?. I missed the beginning with Chicago. Now I loved dancing to Chicago's music Down South in Tennessee while a student at MSU, so I agree with that.

I remember when my brother joined the Columbia Record Club and received all those albums with the contractual agreement that he would pay for more albums (very inflated price). We had some wonderful music playing up in our dormer! I remember Neil Young, Led Zeppelin, Cat Stevens....

My music tastes are still the same today as they were 35 years ago....all over the place. Just today I ordered an album by Lila Downs online, plus some Mariachis music inspired by the Robert Rodriguez movies (yes I have seen them!) I purchased a John Cougar Mellencamp CD earlier this week and Santana. And I still listen faithfully to Ashley McIsaac! And Seven Nations.

In the early 1970's I had Beatle albums, The Four Tops, Wilson Pickett, Black Oak Arkansas, Carol King, Janis Joplin and on and on. My musical tastes really expanded when I hit college.

As did my head.

That is what triggered this new series. What the 1970's meant to me.

DANCE OF JOY

This has been a great week. I am so happy to be back at work in a job that I know so well. Even though the town is different, the people have different names it is all the same. After my experience on "the other side" I realize how good I have it. This job is a walk in the park, a piece of cake, a dream come true! I am thrilled. I am happy beyond words. If I were a poet I would write a poem about being so happy it is about to make me pop my head!

I joined a fitness center in the area. About five miles from our home. It may seem a far trek for me, yet it is still much closer than Shapes in Lex. And the location for gaining entry is also a walk in the park compared to Lex. Yikes, Shapes was in the same shopping center with Best Buys, Bath bed and Beyond and then the ultimate horror, Toys are Us...a nightmare at Christmas.

As if I even went! Maybe twice last year. Twice maybe! Maybe more. I can't remember, but not much.

I am working up to it today. I am very overweight. I would like to drop 20 pounds. I can not stop eating. Damn those donuts. Damn Dairy Queen (and extra damn Pumpkin Pie blizzards!)

And then the biggest thrill of them all....I ordered (finally) the Canon EOS Rebel! Yea Rah! Good price, over the internet. I know I shall discard my Minolta which has been so great since...April? And then the Fujifilm S3000 will be a total thing of the past. Even though it took some fantastic photo's in Cancun when the card on the Minolta was full. Very good pictures.

I am allowing Joe to take the camera (Minolta) to Lex because he is now a Grandpapa. Since 430am this morning!

And last but not least, on Sunday I awoke after visiting Bridget and logged onto AOL and found out my journal was voted the Best Travel Journal! That trip to Cancun helped! Even though most all the voting had already taken place.

It was a thrill. But not anything like being Journal of the Week July 2004. That was a thrill of a life time.

YOUR SO VAIN

Now I remember what I was going to write!!!

There is absolutely nothing as shocking as seeing yourself on television. I was ill prepared for it and therefore it has taken me almost two weeks to even come up with some type of entry about it.

When we were trying to get out of Mexico, Joe thought it would be a good idea to call our friend in Ft. Wayne, who is connected to the local media mob, to help us. We suggested she call CNN, MSNBC, or even the CIA! She called a radio station who interviewed Joe that afternoon via the infamous cell phone! I'm certain that the "greased wheels" had more to do with us getting out that night than his radio interview.

Upon arrival home, the television station contacted me and I agreed to an interview. Somewhere in my naive view of the world, I thought they would interview me and then show some of the pictures from my digital camera. I thought this because I told them I did not want to be on TV.

They arrived with a camera, I should have had a clue I was in trouble.

I wanted to go fix my hair, change clothes, put on make up. They said, "We want you to look like you just survived a hurricane."

When I was aired on the 5 o'clock news.....I was struck dumb. And I was struck deaf. I only heard one thing....that southern twang. Slow and ......oh my God! What a southern accent.

Then it was my bad side. My scar, that I have had since childhood when I tumbled down the concrete stairs at age two was so evident that I could barely see anything else! Except the bags under my eyes. My eyes! My eyes!

I need an eye job!

I had my hair pulled up in a pony tail on top of my head. I looked like a mountain woman from the hills of Kentucky.

I did not hear once word I said. I was so in shock.

Word of advice...never ever go on television without makeup and your hair done.

I shall never recover.

This is why I do not let Joe use my camera.

Today I thought I had an idea for an entry. Somehow I have lost it. My last adventure to Mexico seems to have overshadowed everything in my life up to now. It was my own Oddesy. My time to come face to face with the Mary inside of me. My time to come into contact with a group of people/characters who touched my life at a ceratin time.

Homer had his Odyssey. Joyce his Ulysses . Mary had her Cancun.

It maybe awhile before I can write again. I hope we will go to Italy. And back o Ireland. Finally see Alaska.

One can dream.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN

Day seven - Will it ever end?

I remember what it was like during my ninth month of pregnancy. I thought it would never end. That I was to remain this way the rest of my life. That is how it felt October 26th. This day would never end.

We lined up in groups according to which airport was your final destination. What a joke. We were there at 8am. Spirits so high because we were told there were four jets waiting for us at the airport!

Why do they do that? Don't they understand how devastating it is when you realized you have been duped. Yet again. There were no planes. No one was going to Chicago. No one was going anywhere. Once again planes flew in. Maybe one and hour. We cheered when they came into the airports air space! And fewer were leaving.

It made no sense. And it will never make any sense. It will never be explained. We waited for our planes. What else could we do? We jumped line. We will go to Dallas, we told them! Bob and Judy too. Israel and Bella also. Just get us back to the states.

There was no plane to Dallas.

The military showed up in the afternoon and took over the airport. Once again, I will never understand. The General showed up. Joe and I were standing there! I was negotiating a phone interview with a radio station in Ft. Wayne. I was taking pictures with my cell phone to try and send what I was seeing.

So corrupt and unbelievable that I dare not write it here.

GET US OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Once the corruption had taken place, things moved swiftly. Planes began to land and take odd. Buses arrived and people got on planes and left. Our Holland friends showed up. They spent the night in a five star hotel! They got right on a plane and left.

What is up with Americans?

Desperate we begged to be allowed on a flight to St. Louis. A flight to Denver or Minneapolis had just taken off. Our names were added on the list. We clutched our carry on luggage. My suitcases were taken off the Dallas luggage cart and transferred to the St. Louis.

Dare I hope?

Suddenly..... nothing happens nothing happens...then everything happens!......we were ordered to get into the terminal and go through customs.

They made us stand on a concrete floor for over an hour while they checked and copied our passport information.

At 130am we boarded the plane. When it took off we cheered long and loud.

The day became night.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN

Day one in Merida - October 26th - Wednesday

We make the caravan back to the airport. Except our van makes a detour. Our driver is totally unfamiliar with Merida. We are lucky we did not get lost more often. We had vans following us!!! So, we pretended that we wanted to make that wrong turn because there was a gas station on this road!

We arrive at the end of the caravan. We are forced to park outside the airport this morning. I do not know why. We just are. Rumor is it is too overcrowded inside.

Joe and I get out of the Van. Joe had to find a bathroom.

He is not gone two minutes when the word is out. "GET IN THE VANS!!! WE'RE GOING IN." I'm frantic. I do not want to be left behind again! One of the Smurf's assures me it is only a ten minute walk to the front of the airport. He will wait with me.

In the meantime, I search for our van to tell them I will catch up.

THEY"RE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I look down the road and there they are. I break into a run! They are gesturing at me to run faster to catch up. I did a pantomime to get them to understand that Joe was in the bathroom! I just rubbed my tummy and yelled "JOE!"

Joe showed up moments later and the Smurf made us jump on one of the buses. Now I was worried that our luggage was going to be lost again!!! I went through too much to get that luggage back to let it out of my sight for one minute!

That is just the way it is. Everything is rush rush rush. Then nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. For a very long time.

Six Days in Cancun

Day Six - Ticket to ride.

It's late. After midnight, so officially it is day seven. I am not in Cancun anylonger, but now in a city some 200 miles away called Merida. It is rumored that there is an airport here. 38,000 of us feel like we are in some bizarre scavenger hunt. Looking for the allusive ticket out of here.

Now this is where it gets weird.

The airport is closing down and we are ordered to get the heck out of the parking lot. We are not allowed to spend the night. As always I am clueless as to who is ordering us to leave. Military? Private airport meanies? Anti-American activists?

We load up in the buses and vans and take off. Following each other out into the dark night. It must be after 1am by now. We are all tired, cranky, and humorless. It is rumored that we are going to the parking lot of a movie house. Rumors, rumors, rumors.

We travel down the highway, across parts of the highway that are under construction but still being used. Very bumpy. We travel a long ways. I feel we are just going to drive around all night until the sun comes up and we are allowed back into the airport to begin our vigil again.

We are at the mercy of Funjet. And the foreigners are getting restless.

We do arrive at a parking lot. It is the parking lot for a Boston Restaurant! I ask the van driver if Joe and I can find space in a less crowded fan (I saw one at the airport) to lay down and get some sleep.

"Why would you want to do that when you can go into this nice restaurant and eat all night. Open bar?" He had a very good point.

And that is the way it was. Very strange. They had a pizza buffet all night long. Drinks were on the house, but only non-alcoholic. Thank goodness there was not a crisis in this area, the bar was open and the drinks were flowing.

It was 2am.

I was still fretting about Israel and Bella, but my fears were calmed when they walked in with Bob and Judy. Joe and I found an empty booth, he slept on one side, I on the other. At 330am we fell into another dead sleep.

Awake at 6am.

Back on the road to freedom.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN

Nightmare in Merida

I think you all must know what happens next. All those buses heading to the only functioning airport in the area. I believe the estimate of tourists that night was 38,000.

Our caravan had four buses and 20 cargo vans full of stranded Funjet tourists. 2,000 of us was the estimate I overheard. We were able to drive into the airport parking lot and get out of the vehicles. Joe and I headed into the airport proper to check things out...and go to the bathroom.

We ran right into Bob and Judy our first friends we made at the Hotel Rui Caribe all those days before. Seemed like years!

It would be an understatement to announce that the place was crawling with people. Shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall. They were laid out on the floor everywhere in the airport, and on the outside lawn. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies. The line into the restroom was long and I feared once again of being left behind.

After all we were told the planes to take us home were waiting for us on the run way. There were no planes. I can't remember how many I heard taking off that night. Only a few and even less coming in.

Total confusion.

Bob and Judy had hooked up with an elderly couple. They had more or less taken them under their wing to help them maneuver their way through the ordeal. Israel and Bella. Russian immigrants.

Bob lent us $20 as we had spent our last $10 with the Maestro. Hurricanes are expensive with all the tipping you have to do! We gleefully spent it on a Pizza hut pizza! We took the remainder back to share with Judy and Bob. What we found was Israel standing alone, under a tree holding Bella's pocketbook.

She had gone to the bathroom some time ago. Yes he would accept the pizza, but he would not eat until she came back. I was somewhat concerned. Here it was, closing in on midnight and a 75 year old man was alone in the dark, separated from his wife of 57 years. It saddened me.

Joe tried to find Bob. I laid on the wet, cold, hard ground with my suitcase for a pillow because there was no room in the van!

Joe was wondering around and ran once again into Israel, holding one piece of pizza and the purse. He had not found his wife. By my estimate, she had been gone for two hours. The line was long, but not that long!

Suddenly......once again, nothing happens, nothing happens, then everything happens!!!.....we were ordered to get into the van! The airport was shutting/closing and everyone had to evacuate the parking lot.

Evacuate!!! To where?????

Our fourth and last shelter.

Six Days in Cancun - The Road to Merida

Joe and I must have been the last to arrive at the caravan pulled over to the side of the highway. We were rushed over and pushed into a cargo van, not the luxury bus.
We were forced into an already full van.

Joe and I were cool. After all, we had just survived a Category 5 Hurricane. To crowd into a van for three hours....piece of cake.

I wish that was the story. The group of seven people already in the van had just gone through the Hurricane together. We were once again the intruders. They were nice enough, but the van was now very crowded and all our stories out trumped their stories.

You know how it is after a Category 5 Hurricane.

Joe and I decided to just be quiet and listen to them talk among themselves. Actually they were very nice.

We drove South at first. We came into a tourist town called Tulum which had to be legendary for its scuba diving taking into account all the shops on the main street. Our drive, Speedy Gonzales....actually Fernando Gonzales....pulled over to a taco stand in the middle of the town.

Everyone piled out and we immediately got ice cold 16 ounce bottles of Coca Cola handed to us with a straw. The first cold drinks we had had in six days! The most delicious sensation imaginable.

Everyone had tacos. Real authentic Mexican tacos. I decided that I was going to continue on the Cancun diet for awhile. No food or tuna. Lots of water if you have a working toilet. Minimal water if you do not.

And it is a good thing. Montezuma got his revenge on several of them a little later on.

The three hour trip was another one of the Smurf's sick little tricks on the silly tourists. Because the main regular road, which was a three hour trip, was flooded out, we had to take the long way. The back roads.

The ten hour trip.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN - THE RACE

Stranded! Standing in front of the gates in the throngs of people desperate to get out and get home. Our bus had left. The Smurf's spoke very little English. I understood they were trying to secure us a ride to the bus! A van approached and stopped. Lots of chattering between the Smurf's in the van and the Smurf's outside. The van drove off.

Joe and I were perplexed. I had no idea what to expect. All we could do was stand there and wait.

I looked at all the taxi cabs lined up in front of the LaSalle. They must have had a tremendous day the day before ferrying the unfortunate to the Hotel Zone for their luggage. Things were slower today. The tourists were all catching the buses this day. I looked over Joes shoulder and saw the Maestro! I was so very glad to see him since he had made all my dreams come true the day before!

We shot the bull together for awhile and then explained our plight to him. He immediately began talking to the Smurf's. Rapid fire Spanish, lots of shaking of the head, a phone call made on the only cell phone I ever saw in a Smurf's hand and it was settled.

For $10, he would take us to the bus!

We loaded out luggage in the back of the station wagon and off we went! He took us about 20 miles out of town towards Merida! I thought we were going to the Cancun airport! I was totally wrong. This was no time for idle chit chat. Traffic was dense and he had to concentrate on driving very fast. We took a wrong turn. The usual road to Merida was flooded out and there was no way to get through. He had to make his way to a turn around area and double back. He honked and swore and even went nose to nose with the Military man who tried to stop him. In a matter of moments he had us turned around and once again on the right path, chasing down the bus.

The bus had pulled over on the side of the road waiting for the caravan of Funjet evacuates to make the journey all together.

We made it. I felt like I had driven the 20 some odd miles. I only had the $10 to give him. He kissed me goodbye and told me not to worry about tipping him.

"I'm giving you the Friend rate." he said.

We left him and ran to catch up.

I never did know his name.

Day Six - October 25th, Tuesday

I awoke early, before the sun rose. I took a bottle of water and was determined to somehow wash my hair!!!!!!!!! I was totally blown away when I reached the bathroom and realized the lights were on. We had running water!!! First time since Thursday.

It was heaven. I did not even notice it was cold water! I was able to use a towel I had pinched from the hotel to wash my face, arms etc. When I finished I gasped at the dirt on the towel! A lady was next to me, we were the only two there so early in the morning.

I showed her the towel. She looked at the towel and then at me and then said in this droll throaty voice with an English accent.....

"You filthy bitch."

I laughed until I was doubled over.

This was definitely going to be a glorious day.

We began to leave. First Loretta and Tom at 430am, followed very quickly by Zoe and Martin who were summoned during the night that their flight to England was leaving early. (by way of the Dominican Republic).

Joe and I made ourselves a nuisance to the Smurf's. "I don't know."

"We are waiting word from our superiors. They are trying to open doors. One at a time."

"Maybe take a bus to Merida. A three hour trip."

This was the type of information everyone was getting. It was frustrating. People stood around in tight knots. People were stationed with their luggage at the front gates. Buses pulled in and out. Where were they going? No one knows! One thing for certain, the compound was clearing out, thinning down. It was rumored that the school was to be used for the locals who needed shelter.

We got on a list for a hotel, just in case. We all continued to want to stay together and ride the adventure out. We began this together, we will finish this together.

Joe and I returned to the room. Lunch was being served. Thick bread with ham and cheese. Bottle water. I was trying to write in my small diary, Joe was tossing basketballs on the school court yard.

Suddenly......(time goes on and on so slow. Nothing happens Nothing happens Then everything happens).......A Smurf runs into our room. "Quick! Quick! The bus is leaving! You must be on the bus!"

It was the only way to say goodbye. The only way. I could not have endured it any other fashion.

We were on the sidewalk. The bus had left us behind.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN

What happens in Cancun stays in Cancun

Naturally when we went to our hotels we brought back much more than just our luggage. Althought alcohol was prohibited during a crisis, we smuggled it back to the LaSalle. Joe and I did our usual of filling up water bottles with vodka and tequila. Dave had emptied his refrigerator of the cerveza. (Oh, I did learn a new word! cerveza - beer!) Others were much more cunning and deliberate, they ripped the bottles from the wall!

We hung up towels to hide us from prying eyes and then we threw ourselves a party on the veranda! The MP3 player was cranked up and we began to dance.

We did shots did tequila. We drank cerveza Cowboy Cold which I found out means room temperature! We did shots of everything actually, since mixers were scarce and ice was unavailable!

We even did the Limbo. "How low can you go. How low can you go."

A good time was had by all.

No pictures of this debauchery. What happens in Cancun stays in Cancun.

SIX DAYS IN CANCUN - Day Five
And then there were 19.

After returning to Lasalle I offered to share my torturing, clothes, perfume, soap, towels with everyone. I wanted to toss all my clean underwear on my pallet and to roll around on it! In our absence the others had begun their journeys to the hotels! Luggage and suitcases were all on the way.

Then we began to focus on how to get out of there! Information was sketchy and inconsistent. We were informed that the Airport was closed. We were told it was open. We were told that you had to purchase a bus ticket to Merida and fly out of there.

It was chaos and confusion. Yet things were beginning to happen. The RUI hotel group that had been finding us shelters and feeding us now turned our fates over to the Group Charters we had booked our vacations through.

A Charter was a good thing. On the other hand a Charter was a bad thing. We were at the mercy of Funjet. Their representatives dressed in Caribbean blue shirts and white trousers. Much like Smurf's. Very few spoke English.

Dave was the first to go. Suddenly. The American Consulate was involved in getting those who had commercial flights out first. He was summoned to leave.

He picked up his back pack we all kissed him. And he was gone.

He was our Rock.