life in the old lane

And Duck Woman remembered us.

I am not entirely certain that this is a good thing.

And here it is:
my interior cabin on Deck 3.

Apparently this cabin is designed for four people.

Or perhaps “state room” for four people.

In any case, they would have to be four people who liked each other very much.

I believe two more beds descend from the ceiling.

OK, this post is mostly a test to be sure that ship Wi-Fi works and that I can still update the blog from the phone.

Perhaps something more interesting will appear on tomorrow’s post.

Or not.

OK.
Enough already.
If I wanted this weather, I would move to Seattle.

All my cruise gear.

Total weight:
a hair under 15 pounds.

And does this matter for a cruise I am reaching by car?

Nope.

It matters because the next trip involves a couple of float-plane flights.

And every five pounds over the ten-pound carry-on limit costs fifty dollars.

Talk about an incentive.

I do not think I can get under ten pounds.
But under fifteen?
Probably.

And no, I am not planning to dress like the Michelin Tire Man.

Truth be told, the backpack contains a shocking number of “luxury” items:

a dead-tree book,
Bose headphones,
a generous supply of origami paper,
and a travel mug.

Clearly, I still have room for improvement.

Twenty-five years ago: 27 May 2001

The sun is still MIA.

I gotta get outta this place!

No, it is not the weather.

It is the soup.

Banana, Pineapple, Orange & Kale Soup

Honest.

It was actually on the menu.

So naturally, I asked Robot for assistance:

“Banana, Pineapple, Orange & Kale Soup appeared on the asylum menu. Please create an 800 x 800 pixel image to illustrate that horror.”

I never actually saw the soup.

And I am reasonably certain it was not that vile.

But I saw absolutely no reason to ask for a do-over.

As for the trip:
I just need to toss everything into the bag.

I think everything else is done.

Twenty-five years ago: 26 May 2001

I decided I had to ignore the weather and DO SOMETHING.

So:

Huge breakfast.
Bacon. Eggs. Waffles. Fried apples.
The result was an immediate food coma.

Then I went for a walk.
Never mind that it was drizzling.

Then:
Nap time.

Also, an exciting discovery:

I can get from Victoria to Vancouver by float plane.
If the weather is good, the trip should be fabulous.

And if the weather is bad…
Well.
It might be exciting.
Thirty minutes of sheer terror.

The only downside is that the Seattle-to-Victoria ferry leaves at 8 AM.
Ten AM would be far more civilized.
This is an extremely first-world problem.

I probably should not complain.

Twenty-five years ago: 25 MAY 2001.

Chill and damp does put one in the mood to prepare to sail south on Thursday.

And then there are the “theme nights.”

One of the evenings is “80s Night.”
I am entirely prepared for that.
I am 80s.

OK. Got that covered.

So now:
What about a “Summer Adventure”?

How am I going to escape DC and 47?
NASCAR? Cage fighting? Who knows.

I consulted ChatGPT, AKA Robot.
Robot suggested Victoria, BC.
Sounded reasonable to me.

Then I discovered that VIA Rail had a solo sleeper cabin available on The Canadian from Vancouver to Toronto on July 6.

These cabins usually sell out a year in advance during the summer.
There was exactly one available.
I wanted it.

That is when the fun began.

First, I had to log into the VIA Rail website, which I had not visited in years.
Password reset.
That should have been my warning sign.
Then my credit card was declined.

GRRRR.

Immediately, emails began arriving informing me that my card had been cancelled. Excellent.

So I launched an assault on Citi.
First chat. Then phone.

At one point, I may have yelled: “F-you!” at the automated phone system.

The automated phone system responded by hanging up on me.
On the third attempt, I finally reached an actual human being.

Important life skill:
Do not yell at the human.

I immediately switched to:

“Oh, I am so sorry. I am sure this was entirely my mistake.”

After five attempts, the human finally managed to force the charge through.

Oddly enough, I think the breakthrough occurred shortly after I said:

“Thanks for your help. I’ll just use another card.”

And now, dear reader, I am the proud owner of a Vancouver-to-Toronto VIA Rail solo sleeper cabin for July 6.

For the record:
The ticket is 100% refundable up until departure.

Most likely plan:

• • Fly to Seattle
  • Ferry to Victoria
  • Ferry to Vancouver
  • Train to Toronto
  • Fly back to DC

I last took the Canadian in August 2012, also traveling east.

Twenty-five years ago: 24 May 2001.

I like watching clouds. But then, I am very easily entertained.

Chilly and wet start to summer. I feel sure there is a lifeguard at the pool across the street – wearing a parka.

Do not do this to your orchids. 
Orchids – at least grocery store orchids – are tropical.
Just for giggles, I asked ChatGPT for help with this message.

I think “treat your orchid like a princess, not a polar bear” about sums it up!

As for me, I am enjoying a delightful lazy day. Absolutely zero reason to budge from my comfy chair.

Twenty-five years ago: 23 May 2001.

Took 130 photos this morning for a friend.
I sent her about 30.
Maybe she will be able to use 3.

The trash can is the photographer’s most valuable tool.

And perhaps that principle applies to real life as well.

The current regime could be taken out with the trash.
The world would improve immediately.

Remember when Nicholas von Hoffman referred to Richard Nixon as:

“a dead mouse on the kitchen floor that everyone was afraid to touch”?

My mind appears to be wandering into strange, dark crevices.
No worries.

Soon it will be Happy Hour.

Twenty-Five years ago: 22 May 2001. 

WordPress did its “annual” release.
That always makes me a little uneasy.

And today I decided the iPad also needed “refreshing.”
All manner of technology adventures.

Someday “they” will revoke my IT license.

have been making a Kawasaki Rose every day for about a week.

Thought briefly about learning another variation of Dr. Kawasaki’s rose.

But honestly, it gives me more joy simply to make this familiar model and pass it on.

Today’s rose went to the woman who has washed pots here at The Asylum since it opened back in the 1980s.

She is proof that there are no menial jobs.
Only menial people.

Twenty-five years ago: 21 May 2001.

Now for the exciting part. Is this going to post? Is the blog still alive?

Being ancient requires constant acceptance and adaptation.

In my case, adaptation means no outdoor aerobic exercise when it is hot.

I could walk my one-mile route around the inside of the building a couple of times and run up a few flights of stairs.

But what fun would that be?

So I hopped on the bus and went to Pentagon City.
Cost: $1.10.

Got in a couple miles of mall walking in air-conditioned splendor.

Spent nothing.
Then back on the bus and back to The Asylum.

Cost: $0.00.
Because $1.10 buys two hours of bus riding.

That is not interesting.

Not even to me.

But it is part of my plan going forward.

Every week:
— Attend one Asylum event in person. Not on Zoom.
— Get at least two miles away from The Asylum.

The grocery store, Target, the bank, Trader Joe’s — those do not count.
They are all too close.

If I can walk there, I did not really go anywhere.

This is all based on one disturbing possibility:
What if I live as long as my neighbor Sy, who will soon be 101?

That is another eighteen years sitting in my comfy chair drinking coffee and watching clouds.

Kind of scary.

So. It doesn’t matter if I am interested in the Asylum Event or if I want to escape from the Asylum. Just do something to stave off becoming a potted plant.

Update on the headless lady:

Twenty-five years ago: 20 May 2001.

Toasty warm is OK as long as I am lounging in my secret spot.
Drinking iced coffee.
Reading a book.

But there have been unauthorized changes in my secret spot since yesterday,

Went to yoga today.
Got about 2 miles walking in before it got too hot.

I think I have everything under control at this instant.
That’s usually when the wheels fall off.

Twenty-five years ago: 19 May 2001.

Absolutely nothing blog-worthy today.

Extreme Upper Management of The Asylum held its semi-annual “talk story” meeting.

It was all very warm, fuzzy, and intended to be reassuring.

Nevertheless, I attended.

Just so Extreme Upper Management knows I am watching.

I realize I do not get a vote.

They can and will do whatever they want.

My only hope is that the place does not go broke while I am still living here.

Stopped in to check on my old garden box today.

Do I miss the box?

No.
It was time to let someone else enjoy having their own box of dirt.

Twenty-five years ago: 18 May 2001.

Well now.

I could complain about the state of the union, the weather, the trials of old age, and the perils of AI.

Just for starters.

Or I could try gratitude.

Carlton was big on gratitude.

Grateful for:

Friends who put up with me. I know it is not easy.
Air conditioning
Indoor plumbing
Uber
Audiobooks
Naps
Good origami paper
Hope that #47 is removed before destroying all life on the planet
Friends who put up with me

Stop and enjoy the wild and crazy roses.

Twenty-five years ago: 17 May 2001.