The Ohio River

Late last summer while I was in Huntington attending my high school reunion, I went with my sister to have dinner at a restaurant located near the river. Actually it was ON the river but I didn't realize that until we were seated and preparing to order. As we were looking at the beautiful view of the river, a boat approached and we began to rock. I looked at my sister, who was talking on the cell to my California sister, with a look of panic. As she continued to talk, I jumped up and went to the bar to ask why we were rocking. The bartender looked at me like I was nuts and explained that we were on a barge. Okay, I admit it, we did walk on a plank to enter the restaurant, but I didn't get it. Although I loved the view, I just can't have dinner on something that moves when a boat zooms by causing the diners to grab their wine and hope the flounder doesn't land on your lap! Besides, I HATE boats!

Fortunately, I had my camera with me and I was able to convince my sister to go with me to take a few quick shots. This is the actual view.

This image was changed to sepia, giving it an older, more vintage look. Notice the boat in the background? I think it takes away from the story of the image. I wanted the focus to be on the three guys fishing...so in the next image, I removed it.

I added a filter to the next image. It has a kind of faded look. I'm not liking it. The image below retains some of the color, but still has a filter. I like it, but still like the original one best. I'll just keep experimenting.

By the way, we had dinner several hours later, downtown. That is, after my sister had an encounter with another driver...he should never have honked. It's a long story. I told her I wouldn't tell.

Here's What I Know About Spain

These are merely my observations. Rick Steves, I'm not.



• In Madrid birds chirp to notify you when to cross the street; we were on our own in Barcelona.
  
• There doesn't appear to be as many people speaking English as other European countries.
• They really don't use washcloths and you can't buy them in stores...we tried. We bought a hand towel and cut it in half. How do they remove their make-up?
  
• I think every Spaniard smokes...got more second hand smoke there than I did when Tom was puffing away three packs a day.
• They wear white after Labor Day. Since there is no Labor Day that I know of in Spain, I guess that doesn't apply to them. Makes sense.


• They eat every part of the cow, fish, pig, chicken, and ox, including brains and tail...really. I probably left out some of the parts...I just couldn't deal with it.


• Expect to wait at least thirty minutes for the bill in the restaurants after you've asked for it...they are in no hurry.


• The universal reply after you asked them if they speak Ingles, "A little."


• There are AT LEAST two restaurants in every block.
  
• If you're driving, getting out of Barcelona is a heck of a lot easier than getting in...makes New York look tame.


• Almost every apartment has a beautiful balcony.


• Water is served in glass bottles more than plastic...Spain's going green.


• They really do eat dinner late in the evening.


• There is no ranch dressing in Spain, it's olive oil and vinegar or nada.


• Just as in Italy, their daily objective is to try to run over a tourist with their cycles.


• They double park when and where they want to...like I said, they're in no hurry.
  
• Iberian ham is served all day...salty and tough, but when you're hungry it tastes good...no mustard though, when asked for it, the reply, "No habla Ingles."
  
• Spanish women have beautiful skin.
  
• Spanish women OF ALL AGES wear leggings or tights, and of course, the ubiquitous neck scarf!
  
• Chips are served with wine in Madrid.


• Spaniards are more than willing to give directions when asked but if you follow them you'll be in worse shape than when you started.

There you have it. In case you're wondering, Madrid was my favorite city. It might be because our apartment was located in the old part of town with lots of character and a convenience store across the street, or it could be because I like to be alerted by chirping birds when it's time to cross the street. Really.

Sunday in Madrid, Part III

Soon it was time for lunch. As soon as everyone was up and at'em we began our trek to a restaurant that was recommended by Fodors. Just as we were making a left turn onto Gran Via, I noticed barricades along the avenue. Being the inqusitive type, I threw my body over the railing, almost falling on my head to see what was approaching. There were zillions of policia on motorcycles making all kinds of racket, and convertibles with people standing up waving. I think they were the sponsors. I still didn't get it, but soon it became apparent what was about to occur because I almost got my head knocked off by a flying bicycle. There were hundreds of them.

Here was the leader.

Here came the rest of the group.



See what I mean? They almost got me!

There they go!

This went on for several hours. People stayed and cheered and I went into the restaurant. I have no idea who won. I even got a paper today (Monday) to see the winner. Couldn't make heads of tails of it. I'm taking the paper home with me so someone can translate and I won't be in suspense. I hope it's the guy in blue..mainly because I got so many good shots of him. I'll keep you posted.

More later.

Sunday Morning in Madrid, Part II

Bless her heart, it was an older woman who became ill. No traffic accident, no guns and no fights. In the middle of all of this mess, I dressed quickly and dashed down the stairs and spoke with the police and asked him what happened. He told me in plain english that the woman had become ill. No car crash, no guns, and no fights. I still think something is fishy. Two ambulances?

After my conversation with the police, I wandered down to the corner where the motley crowd was hanging out. I saw a woman who I had seen earlier hanging out in front of our building. This time she emerged from an apartment building around the corner mumbling stuff in spanish...at least I think it was spanish. I heard her say something about loco. She wasn't happy. She had her suitcase dragging behind her. I didn't say a word to her...afraid she would knock my lights out.

As I was recovering from this fiasco, I noticed people walking towards our building.It looked like a tour bus had just dropped off fifty or so people. By now it was almost noon and I soon figured out that these smartly dressed people were going to the church next to the hair salon next to our building. I took more photos. This was after church.

These two kids just went to mass. Looks like they got a lot out of it. Bless their little hearts. Going home. Time to get dressed and go to lunch.You aren't going to believe what happened next.

Sunday Morning in Madrid

So there I was eating my chocolate croissant and drinking a coke (my favorite breakfast) in our apartment as Janie, Dennis, and Shirley slept. It was 10:00 a.m. As I opened our windows I gazed down to the street and to my amazement saw an ambulance and two police cars. Soon I sprang into action. Being a closet photojournalist, I grabbed my camera and established my perch on the balcony. Just as I started clicking away, another ambulance appeared. Hum. I looked to my right and saw a few men standing on the corner looking to their right. Was there an accident? There was a lot of conversation going on between the medics and the police. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but if I could hear it, I wouldn't understand it anyway. Oh well. These people were in no hurry, so I figured that either someone was dead or someone wasn't that badly injured. My neighbor across the street, a nice Cambodian man was also witnessing the incident. He owns the small store across the street where I buy my daily coke, "One euro por favor." "Gracias." We talk a lot. During this incident, we didn't establish eye contact. I was in my robe and maybe it's against their custom to look at some crazy woman standing on a balcony in her robe with a camera in hand.


To let you know who and if someone was in the ambulance, here's what happened next.


Because I am using a netbook in a foreign country, the service is sllllllooooowwww. So I will try to finish this blog in the next post.

The Mystery Continues

On a recent trip to Charlotte, I met with Jennifer, a former classmate from Huntington High School. We hadn’t seen each other for twenty years, since our twenty-fifth class reunion, but we had talked on the phone several times. As we were talking she noticed on my right hand I was wearing my class ring. I had been wearing it for the last ten years, mainly because I thought it was beautiful and quite unusual as class rings go, and to be honest, I could finally get it back on my finger!


As our forty-fifth reunion approaches, Jennifer, who by now had scoured her condo and eventually found her ring, thought it would be interesting if we (that means me) could find some research on our rings. Two of the most important questions were, “Who designed the ring,” and “Who was the first class to wear it?” I tried to find the answers. I contacted Herff-Jones who sold our rings and got no reply except to tell me who the sales rep is in my area. You probably wonder how I knew it was Herff-Jones. As I was looking for old high school pictures, I found the envelope that my ring came in. Unbelievable. Thank God mother kept my mementos. Who knew forty-five years ago, thanks to Jennifer, I would be searching for clues about the ring? I also contacted many of our classmates from the class of ’65 on Facebook. They knew nothing. Things were not looking good. I was coming to a dead end.


Dick Tracy I’m not, and furthermore, living in Atlanta has tied my hands. I don’t have access to the Cabell County Board of Education’s archives, nor can I scour the microfiche at the Huntington Public Library. After talking with my sister, Janie and my friend, Barbara, all I can ascertain is this. I have my mother’s ring that is slightly different from mine. Her design has an H in the center with the year at the bottom of the oval. She graduated in 1919.

Another friend, Betty, has her mother’s ring who graduated in 1929. Judging from her description, the design seemed to change and include the image of our school in the center. Barbara’s mother graduated in 1939 and has the same design as my sister’s who graduated in 1957. My sister “loaned” hers to one of her boyfriends who consequently smashed it in a baseball game. Although it’s not in her possession, she assured me that our rings were of the same design except the year of their graduation is both at the bottom of the oval and on the sides. My ring has the image of Huntington High in the center and the year of our graduation is on the side, 1965. So sometime between 1919 and 1929 the new design was adopted, but when and by whom?

My diligence has come to an end. I’m giving up and throwing in the towel. Sadly, I have come to the realization that there is a strong possibility that our questions will never be answered. So I suppose they will go down in the annals of history and added to the list of other equally important questions from 1965, such as: “Did Sloopy hang on?,” “Who wrote the book of love?,” “Did Rhonda ever help?,” “What was the same old song?,” “Who won the name game?,” “Was the lovin’ feeling ever found?,” and finally, “What really went on under the boardwalk down by the sea?” Ponder this people, ponder this.

Authors Note:
Even though the origin of our rings remains a mystery, Jennifer and I will be wearing our rings this weekend. My friends Penny and Barbara won’t. Penny lost hers in the ocean. Barbara lost hers at the beach, but she has her mother’s, so she’ll probably wear hers. Other classmates, Alice, Barbara L., Toni and Tia still have theirs. I wonder if they’ll wear them to the reunion.

Age Spots and Belly Fat

I admit it. These are two of my many flaws. It's so sad. And as you know my reunion is fast approaching and I'm concerned about them. I have to do something.

Two age spots are on my face and one on my neck. They look like giant freckles. When I was younger I though it would be great if all of my freckles blended together but that never happened. Now many years later, I'm faced with this delimma. So today I took action and went to the dermatologist. He was kind enough not to refer to them as age spots; he was compassionate and called them PRE-CANCEROUS. He mumbled something as he took a cotton swab and dabbed something on my face and neck that felt like a combination of acid and hot wax. He warned that it might sting a little. Sting? I wasn't brave; I don't like pain. When he treated the spot on my neck, I swear I thought it was burning through to my throat and I just knew I would have to have a tracheotomy. The good doctor assured me that they would dry up and fall off before the reunion. They better. His parting words were, "Don't pick." A man of few words.

Then there is the issue of belly fat. I've heard that this happens to middle-aged women, but when did I turn middle-aged? This kinda snuck up on me. I want to wear my white linen pants, but I think they might be too tight. Breathing is very important to me and it might be compromised if I don't do something about what is often called, "muffin top." I get it.

So to solve this problem I bought this.

A hula hoop. Not just any hula hoop. This is weighted and holds water. There are other hoops at Sports Authority but those are seriously weighted, so much so that I could break my ribs if I let that contraption circle my waist. The duck tape is helping to hold it together and to keep it from leaking.

Now all I have to do it re-learn how to actually hula hoop and find some serious make-up just in case the spots don't fall off.

Thank goodness for class reunions. They make us take stock of our bodies and our lives, don't they?