Category Archives: Husband – I love my husband, but…

Neckties, Nausea or Nudists

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I have had some wonderful travel experience over the years, but who wants to hear about those?  So, here’s a few of my most memorable for the wrong reasons.

Neckties:  I had the opportunity to travel with my husband on a business trip to Taiwan. Every day we walked 10 yards from the hotel to a waiting bus, then 10 yards from the bus to a  government building and returned late at night to be escorted the 10 yards from the bus to the hotel.    I was never sure if we were guests or prisoners.  I hear it is a beautiful country and, hey, I’ll never forget those great bus drivers.

Nausea:  We took a cruise once to…Good Lord I don’t even know where we went because I spent the entire cruise inside our cabin puking my guts out.

“Whoa!  Did you feel that?” I grabbed my husband’s arm as my knees buckled.

Things went downhill quickly after that.  Yes, I did take Dramamine but, being the delicate flower that I am, I contracted a rare side effect of diplopia so even when I was able to stand up I got nauseous from double vision.

There’s a reason God placed me smack dab in the middle of a giant continent.  I plan to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground from now on, thank you very much.

Nudists:  After the all-inclusive cruise didn’t work out we tried the all-inclusive resort.  We traveled to Jamaica where our hotel’s front desk clerk informed us we’d be staying on the clothing-optional side of the resort.  No problem for someone as flexible as me, right?  Okay, I did stop and pick up a dozen towels along the way to our room.  No way was I going to sit on any of that furniture.  Who knows how many bare butts had been there first!

They showed us to our room and I stepped out on the balcony.  There was a beautiful view of the beach, which was covered in naked people of all shapes and sizes.  At that very moment the heavens opened up and it began to rain – which caused all the naked people of every shape and size – to run for their rooms.

There were body parts jumping and bumping in every direction.  “Ack!  My eyes!  My eyes!” I screamed.

I fell back on the couch which I had not yet draped in towels.  I leapt up and ran to the bathroom to scrub myself from head to toe.

I’ll bet you wish you could travel with me sometime, right?

Who’s Crazie Now?

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I just got back from a week in the Rocky Mountains at a resort where, I swear, time has not changed in 50 years. My husband asked if they had a Wi-Fi Cafe nearby. Not only is there no wi-fi, there’s no cafe. There is certainly no cell phone service and the one ancient pay phone only worked a few hours every other day. Personally, I loved it.

I even got to spend some quality time with a few of the following residents of Crazie Town.

The Older Sister – who, I maintain, interpreted the following road sign even sillier than I did. “No Snowplowing Between 7pm-7am.” I decided it meant people shouldn’t be using their own snowplows during this time. My sister decided this meant that when you’re skiing you can’t use the snowplow move after 7pm. I believe I will rate our decisions as “Double Doh’s” since Older Brother explained it meant that during a snowstorm, the roads would not be plowed after 7pm.

The Husband (not an original resident, but has been around long enough to receive dual citizenship) – who gave new meaning to the expression “haste-makes-waste.” As we walked out to the picnic table with the rest of the meal, he was asked to add grapes to the salad before he brought it out. Many minutes later when no salad or husband arrived, I returned to the cabin to find him still in the kitchen. He was inspecting each and every grape on the vine, only removing the undamaged ones. He placed the perfect grape in the middle of a dinner plate where he carefully sliced it exactly in half, only then depositing it gently on top of the lettuce.  I have to admit, it was a delicious salad.

The Niece – who couldn’t quit giggling every time we said we were “Going to the Poudre.” The Poudre River runs through the area where we stayed. It is pronounced, by the locals, as “Poo-der” which is, evidently quite close to “Pooter” which is a word I won’t explain to you.

The Older Brother – who unsuccessfully tried to hide the fact that within minutes of wandering over to the “Pooter” river to inspect the velocity of the rushing waters, fell in. Was he hurt? Who knows. Our only concern was that thereafter, any bonehead move would be dubbed “Doing a Mike.”

The Nephew and his Wife – they’re newlyweds so, let’s just leave them out of this, okay? Well, maybe just one thing. Homemade pie? I know it’s not a competition but on my night to cook I made spaghetti with bottled sauce. On their night they made Juicy Lucys (look it up) and for dessert a homemade four-fruit pie. Four fruits? Really?

And what about the Mayor of Crazie Town? Well, let’s see. I packed two humongus suitcases – 49 pounds each – filled with every essential a Crazie person would need. I used my husband’s travel golf bag to bring two collapsable lawn chairs (in case there aren’t enough chairs at the resort), a set of sheets (I can’t very well sleep on theirs can I?) and two large furniture throws (who wants to spend a week in plaid couch hell?) In the other suitcase I packed hiking boots, several pairs of sneakers, sandals and my clothes, which included all the white t-shirt I own (and are now covered in every kind of stain known to man), a sketch pad, colored pencils and book titled Drawing for the Absolute Beginner (in case my writing career never takes off), and my laptop (which I never even opened.)

And we’ll end with the icing on the cake. because even though I packed my own travel coffee mug, once there I decided to purchase a dust covered “handcrafted” ceramic one for $20 (which I forgot to bring home).

Who’s crazie now? Huh?

P.S.  Do me a favor would you?  Share the Crazie with a friend.  Thanks!