The African Queens

Well, all right, we're only AFRICAN queens because we spent an hour in the Kalahari on Friday. And of course we spent the next day in Venice (here's one of the "living statues" that show up here and there around the Venetian, that I didn't get to show you on the last post). But we're certainly royalty in all other ways, and besides one of the high spots today involved a boat that reminds me of the one that Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart took down that river in Africa. Hence the title.


Speaking of yesterday, here's another picture of our heroine Xiaoming with some more movie royalty. Not too hard on the eyes, is it? Anyway, it's Day 3, and we needed to find ways to make it as unique in its way as the other two had been. And we did!

We were up early today--11 a.m.--and proud of it. We lounged around on our computers for a bit, and were off to eat right on schedule. We had a great fresh Mexican dining experience at Rubio's here in Summerlin, one of a really nice chain that started in San Diego 30 years ago. I hope it finds its way to Austin soon--Karen and crew will really enjoy the food here, I think.

Bought gas for the car--first tank full since 5/17--exactly one month ago. The price has been at $3.17/gallon at the nearby Shell station, but in honor of my purchase, it came down to $3.13. And I hope I don't have to buy another tank for another month (or more, actually, since I'm leaving for Maine on 7/18, a month and a day from now). That is one of the real pluses of not having to drive to work (though I admit I have taken the car more often than not--it's HOT! Although that's a very good reason to leave the car home, where it's covered and stays cool. I'll have to be a better girl about that).


Then we headed east and eventually south into the desert (where we stopped and took a picture or two of the scenery--how do you like the view?) and then up into the hills. What a multiplicity of environments! We began here in Summerlin, a fairly upscale part of Vegas. Heading east on Summerlin Parkway, passing rows of tall crowned palm trees, we crossed into a much less upscale part of the city, predominantly little Mexican convenience stores and check-cashing establishments peppered with the ever-present local casino. Then at the eastern edge of the city a lower-middle class area with neat small homes, few trees, but fairly wide streets--and straight ahead the mountains. And suddenly, you're in those mountains, and there's not a dwelling to be seen. Just like someone pulled a switch. We drove through twisty passes in the mountains for a while (with me wondering silently, since we didn't seem to be turning south, the way the very stylized map said we would, if I had missed a turn somewhere)--and suddenly, we saw in the middle distance a tiny patch of blue-green: water!


Well, it wasn't Lake Mead but, when we got there, it turned out to be a real oasis in that desert: tiers of VERY nice homes and condos, with lots of lush patches of grass and terraces with stone retaining walls speaking of more development yet to come, and palm trees: quite an inviting mirage out there where there had been not very much for quite a few miles. Did I saw we had paid $5 at a checkpoint along the way just before that oasis to get a day pass (well, 5-day pass, actually) into the Lake Mead Recreation Area, the first of its kind in the nation, begun in 1963, I believe, so it's as old as my darling daughter is.

Anyway, a few more miles of arid land with dramatic mountains all around, and there was more blue-green--well, really green-blue: it was Lake Mead, fer shure, this time, and the water is greener and greener as you get closer. We passed Boulder Beach, named I believe more for nearby Boulder City than for
actual boulders lying around the beach, because there seemed to be few of those. But it was a sandy beach with cars and campers parked all along its edge (no worry that the tide will eat the sand out from under them and maroon them, which is a concern on beaches like this along the Gulf Coast) and people clearly enjoying the water (forgot to ask about the temperature of these lakes). Lake Mead is very deep, so I expect it doesn't warm up too much. But this lake was not (or didn't seem to be) so deep, so I wonder if it isn't something like bathtub water, which even the Gulf Coast water becomes along the shore after a long hot summer.

We drove on and up and over and around and up some more and through and between and up even more--and then suddenly downward into the Black Canyon Valley--and suddenly, where the high-tension lines became so numerous and close together that you were almost threading your way through them--there was the dam down below us. With these HUGE cantilevered sections of the new highway that is under construction high above us!!! Truly amazing feats of engineering here in 2007 and 2008, maybe not to rival the engineering of the actual building of the dam (1931 through 1935--and finished ahead of schedule at that!) but certainly impressive.


We drove down and around the hairpin curves that lead past the gift/food building (of course) and suddenly we were on the bridge across the dam itself. Did I say, by the way, that Xiaoming was leaning out the window, lovely black hair flying all around, taking picture after picture of all of this? No? Well, she was. She's quite the cameraperson, as the pictures throughout these blogs have, I hope, demonstrated. We went across the damn dam, pulled off into an overlook, got out and took a few pictures of the backside of the dam from the land, and then headed back across the dam and up again and over and under and--all that, following the bread crumbs that we had been foresighted enough to strew in our path so that we could find our way out. Let me just pass on one statistic about that dam: the concrete that was used to build it, if laid out in an 18-foot wide road, would pave the way from California to New York. AMAZING! And again, I say, AMAZING!


Okay, back a few miles into the Lake Mead Recreation Area, and we found the Lake Mead Cruises sign. Follow that 2-3 twisty miles, and you're suddenly staring a small paddle-wheeler in the face. Turns out that's the Desert Princess Too; our vessel was the Desert Princess herself--and we were two queens well worthy of her. We were about 3/4 of an hour early, so we bought postcards and (Xiaoming's suggestion--brilliant!) actually wrote them out! Otherwise, they'd have come home with me and gone right into my stationery drawer, where I'd find them years from now and. . . . But no, they're written, addressed, stamped, and will be mailed tomorrow. What a gal I am!

The cruise was just spectacular (I have overused just a few adjectives this weekend, haven't I? Maybe I should invent some--or use the one that Jon-Michael used on my birthday card: "supercalaefragelistikexpaladoshis" ("P.S," he noted, "I like cheese.")) None of that really does justice to the things we saw on that cruise: Spectacular lava peaks towering over piles of colorful "painted rocks" next to the water; all around the rim of the lake this 20-foot strip of white rock that had, at some point, been under water and so was no longer brown like the upper reaches; little coves, occasionally populated by a boat and a family diving off the backend, their own private nevada, if you will; and then
a U-turn (quite an accomplishment for a stern-wheeler) and we're heading down this narrow twisty passageway that opens up to reveal--Hoover Dam! The backside of the dam, which Xiaoming and I had been looking at from the eastern shore just 3 hours earlier (and which you see in the picture above). Amazing!

Oh yes, all of that and we started off with dinner--did I mention that? Roast beef for me and salmon for Xiaoming--a decent meal, but, as she just pointed out to me--and I agree--we didn't go for the food: we went for the scenery--and we were not in the least disappointed. And we got a lovely pastel sunset thrown in for good measure. It was great, and another MUST-SEE item for any Vegas itinerary. As we disembarked, we were met with a row of photos that were taken as we embarked: a large photo, two small ones, and a magnet ($20 for the lot). Yes, I know, Xiaoming has hundreds of photos and she is uploading them as we speak so that I can pepper these three blogs with some of them. But I'm a sucker for something as permanent as a magnet: how could I NOT buy the package. So I bought, and here we are in wind-blown splendor (and it was very windy: Xiaoming was afraid that the sunglasses she rescued from the clutches of George Clooney would get snatched off her head by the wind (most of the time they're holding her hair back: she pointed out that they were a fashion statement, not a functional piece of equipment), so she actually wore them on her face, where they were more secure. And the end of THAT particular story is that they made it home with us.


We're here now, it's 1 a.m., Xiaoming's packing, and we'll have time for a quick nap, I guess. Her flight leaves at 6:25 a.m., we want to be there by 5 a.m., since the security line is unpredictable and likely to be long even at that hour. So we'll leave here around 4:30, which means she has to get up at 3:30!!! Two and a half hours, if she dropped in her tracks right this minute! Me too, because I plan to go to work as soon as I get back here, so that I can leave early and put pictures in my blog tomorrow (er, tonight!) and post this.

Okay, folks, that's it for a while: a smorgasbord of Vegas's delights and pleasures, which will, I hope, entice you here some day soon. I'm leaving you with a symbolic (but representative) picture of a typical road out here, which just goes on and on, into the future. Let me know when to meet your plane, and we're on our way!

Blues in the Night

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It's Day Two in the 3-Day Wonderland Saga, and dawn finds our heroines--well, frankly, dawn and most of the morning, found our heroines oblivous to the wonders of all but sleep. We were out until 1:30 a.m., and one of us was still suffering a bit from jet lag (that would not be your faithful scribe but her trusty companion Xiaoming), so we slept the sleep of the blameless and innocent. And got up at pretty much high noon. Okay, so we'll admit it. We slept the morning away. But this is Vegas. What happens here STAYS here--and generally happens at night! Anyway, we meandered around--Xiaoming did NOT work out today. Look, folks, when you're hitting more than one casino, you're WALKING. A LOT! So lay off about the working out already!

We got dressed and this time our destination was the middle of the Strip: a casino I had never been in, the Venetian. What a beautiful building that is. From a ceiling that is a replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, to gondolas that ply a canal that is always in cloud-speckled sunlight (that's it above). Today, though, we heard from a gondolier himself that the gondolas stopped plying anything toward the evening because the wind was so strong it pushed the gondolas where IT wanted them to go, not where THEY were supposed to go. I had no idea the canal was out in the open, but I guess it is for a certain distance--long enough that the elements determine the schedule. Well, we weren't really going to go for a gondola ride (it had originally been on Xiaoming's extensive itinerary for Saturday and Sunday--but she decided she'd ridden in a real gondola in Italy, so she didn't need to do this one in Vegas). We started off with a meal in the Grand Lux Cafe--and this was the best meal we had all weekend. We shared some seared raw mahi-mahi medallions dipped in a kind of soy sauce, then shared a Salad Caprese (lots of greens, big slices of mozzarella (on The Sopranos, it's called Moozadel), thinly sliced parmesan and an excellent dressing), and we shared a margherita pizza (with lots of cheese and tomatoes). Absolutely fab, as they say.
And no chance of overeating, either: each serving was just right for two. Our waitress, Trish, had just returned to her native Vegas from Dallas (Xiaoming's home), and she got me thinking, because she said she has started a list of "Things You Don't See in Dallas." It's long. And growing. I told her I was going to mention her list here, so we have a picture of her. And I highly recommend both her AND the Grand Lux Cafe.

Our next stop was--well, Xiaoming went to the restroom, while I sat down at a nearby slot machine with $20--and stood up with $38.75. That was nice. Our NEXT stop was a ticket booth where we purchased tickets for the 7 p.m. "Blue Man Group" show (hence the title of this episode, for those who need it pointed out to them!) More about that in a mo', but we had 1-1/2 hours to kill, so we headed for Madame Tussauds' Celebrity Encounter. More than 100 life-size and life-like wax statues of celebrities and famous people, from Abraham Lincoln and Muhammad Ali and Elizabeth Taylor and Hugh Hefner to John and Jacquie and Princess Di and Angelina and Brad to Elvis and Freddie Krueger and Johnny Mathis and Ole Blue Eyes. We must have taken 100 photos in this exhibit--of which I'm picking just a few, to spare you, although these were really life-like renditions. And the really good news is that Xiaoming's glasses got yanked off her head by George Clooney (she swears she never saw him move) and for a while we thought she'd never see them again--but someone found them and returned them to the box office--and she still has them.




Okay, now we were ready for the Blue Man Group. I had seen the show, but Xiaoming had not--and it was in a new venue. I saw it at the Luxor two years ago, and it was fabulous. But it is now in the Venetian, in a theater built especially for the three blue guys, and it was just as exciting the second time around. And Xiaoming enjoyed it, too. The first five rows are provided with "ponchos" (plastic bags) that protect them from flying--well, debris? cereal? paint? whatever! We were about five rows behind that and almost caught a flying marshmallow. NO JOKE! Xiaoming was on the aisle and looked stunning in her off-white lace-strapped frock, and she was certainly considered by one of the wandering blue men as the audience participant he was searching for at one point, but no, he picked someone else. Anyway, this show is--well, it's a show-stopper. It's sensational. It's a treat for every one of your senses. It's a MUST-SEE item for any Vegas itinerary. Count on it, if you come see me!

And another MUST-SEE item was the next one on our list: the Stratosphere. It's the tall needle-like building (like the ones in Seattle and San Antonio), with a revolving restaurant near the top, and in this case, some really insane rides 3 stories above that! Don't even ask: they make my stomach knot up just thinking about them! We opted for a drink in the Romance lounge, on the 107th floor
(bypassing the Chapel on the 103rd floor, where weddings with just about any theme you could ask for take place several times a day--we saw the leftovers from two of them while we were up there). After a drink overlooking the restaurant on the floor below, which did indeed revolve at a quite-noticeable pace, though I expect the diners down there weren't as aware of it as we were (1 revolution every 80 minutes, we were told), we headed for the 108th floor, which is for observation (the 109th floor is where the insame people go for those rides I mentioned).

And what a view!!! We walked all the way around and saw EVERYTHING (though we usually didn't know what we were seeing). Vegas is literally a light-filled shallow bowl all night long. The lights extend for miles and stop abruptly at the mountains on all sides. It is just unbelievable--until you've stood there and seen it! Well, when we had had our fill of that (which took a while), we had our second meal of the day (10:55 p.m., the last customers allowed in) at Roxy's Drive-In, complete with singing waiters. Ours
was "Bobby Darin," singing (quite well) "Beyond the Sea." After an early breakfast, Xiaoming tried out "The Crazy Armadillo," while I tried out some slot machines. Both of us were quite satisfied.

But the night was still young. At least in Vegas, it is. So back into the car (thank the early gods of the Strip for their decision to have LOTS of free parking at any and all casinos!) and back down the strip (the Stratosphere is at the far north end) to the center of it all: Caesar's Palace. The Venetian is truly beautiful, with murals and arches and buildings reminiscent of Venice and other parts of Italy. Caesar's Palace is opulent. No other word. I felt VERY much the country mouse there, and my money vanished into thin air--like magic! But Xiaoming had hoped that a friend had made a reservation for her at "Pure," one of the most exclusive nightclubs on the Strip. Turned out the reservation didn't exist, but--ever the resourceful young lady, Xiaoming found a couple of guys who were more than willing to get her in there on their reservation. So she had some fun in "Pure," and I had pure losing hands at some slots and a couple of tables. Anyway, we were home by, well, all right, I'll come right out and say it--3:30. There! And proud of it.


We came home (by way of the famous Las Vegas sign, which we were able to take a good picture of, since it was so late) and weren't immediately tired, so we started to watch "The Cooler," one of my favorite Vegas movies, but we didn't get 20 minutes into it before we both crashed. So I headed for my bed, and Xiaoming spent another night on my sleeper sofa (which, by the way, she testifies is very comfortable--so all who are considering flocking to my humble abode can rest assured that the nights here will be comfortable).

Enough for another blog posting. Watch for the 3rd installment, "The African Queens," coming soon to a blog near you.

Return to Wonderland

Well, I'm not really returning to Wonderland, 'cause I haven't left except for a quick weekend in Austin to celebrate some birthdays (Jon-Michael and his Grandma Punkin' Pie both had birthdays within two weeks of each other--so we celebrated together). Otherwise, I've been right here, but it's been so busy out, what with work and play and sleep--there needs to be another 8 hours everyday to be used for whatever discretionary purpose fits one's mood--and I'd write my blog more often.

Regardless, I'm baaaaack, and hopefully I'll keep at it on a regular basis now. So here we go: That's the airport (McCarran--one of my least favorite airports ever--but it shorely is full of glitz and glamor!), where I picked Xiaoming up on Thursday night


The most immediate blog-worthy event has been the visit of my friend Xiaoming. The exciting picture above is just ONE wall in the baggage claim area at the Vegas airport. Xiaoming is someone I met in Austin when she was a student at UT. We decided this weekend that was about 5 years and 4 months ago (but who's counting), and despite the difference in our ages and background, we've remained pretty darn good friends. Anyway, she decided to visit me this weekend and became the first of what I hope will be a steady stream of visitors. Have I got an itinerary for you! Consider this weekend with Xiaoming to be a kind of trial run. I now know a huge bunch more places to take people to show them ALL sides of this great and amazing city of Wonderland. So read on, folks, enjoy the pictures. Xiaoming took almost 220 pictures: I'm going to include some of the best and most relevant, starting with the two of us at dinner on Thursday, the first night. Anyway, between the words and the pictures (which, as we know, are worth thousands MORE words), you'll be convinced to put me on your list of people you MUST come visit.

Xiaoming's visit began literally on Thursday night (that's us at Primo's restaurant, where we certainly started things off elegantly--overlooking some more of Las Vegas's gilt, the Strip!). However, we didn't get into true Tourist Mode until Friday morning--LATE Friday morning. Xiaoming actually got up at 4 a.m. to do some work on the internet for her job (she's an analyst for Accenture, based in Dallas but working since November in Chicago). After about 1/2 an hour, she went back to bed, got up around 8:30 and worked until 1:30 on her computer. Then she was free for the rest of the weekend. So off to the Strip we went.


We didn't have much of an itinerary on Friday, but we "did" three casinos on the south end of the Strip, near where I lived when my motor home was my abode. We started in the Luxor, which is the pyramid-shaped casino (that has a huge spotlight shooting straight up to the stars in the night-time); here's one of three huge pools outside the hotel/casino. We went through King Tutankhamen's tomb (well, a replica of it, full of replicas of what was found in the tomb in 1922--the first time the tomb had been visited in nearly 3300 years, except for one batch of grave robbers shortly after the tomb was closed and sealed. The replicas were made of wood gilded in gold paint, but they looked real enough to give a sense of what it might have looked like when Howard Carter peered through a little hole into the tomb, with the Fifth Earl of Carnarvon panting at his shoulder asking, "What do you see? Do you see anything?", and answered, very slowly, "Yes, yes, wonderful things."

Did I say that we started the day at Pharaoh's Pheast at the Luxor? Here's Xiaoming relaxing after our pheast! Anyway, after Egypt and the Valley of the Kings, we moved directly to the nearby IMAX theater in the Luxor and watched "Lions 3D: The Kings of the Kalahari." What a show!!! An hour of spectacle and drama, personified as only National Geographic can do it. I am truly in awe of the camera work: in that intense heat (sometimes as hot as 130 degrees) with absolutely nothing to hide behind or otherwise use to disguise a man (presumably) carrying a camera, those intrepid photographers managed to get shots clear up the elephant's trunk, right inside the lion's flea-bitten ear, inches away from five of the cutest lion cubs you'll ever see. Talk about "Mr. deMille, I'm ready for my close-up now"!!! This was wonderful--AND in 3D. The shots taken by helicopter, slanting around the desert just inches from the ground truly took your breath away. You found yourself leaning right and then left, to compensate for the tilt of the helicopter. Wow! I'm going back someday soon to see the other show, on "Dinosaurs." Anyone wanna come with?


After that, where could we go but to the other two casinos that are grouped with the Luxor: Mandalay Bay, where Xiaoming (ever one to sniff out a bargain) bought a lovely green silk dress (which she wore today--and looked absolutely stunning in!). By then it was already 10 p.m., which, of course is a bit early for the party scene (Xiaoming's other passion, besides travel). But she struggled and found a dance club, while I partied in my own way. Yes, folks, I gambled, with a bit of success for a while, but ultimately not. The casinos on the Strip are much more expensive than the local casinos, where I've learned to be much more comfortable. A slot machine that requires pennies in the local casinos wants nickels on the Strip, one that takes nickels locally insists on quarters on the Strip; table games like 3-card poker and Texas hold 'em bonus poker, two games I enjoy, have $5 minimum bids in the local casinos but want $10 or $15 minimums on the Strip. For those of you who want to do a little game-playing when you come here, I recommend sampling the casinos on the Strip, but don't discount the locals! Anyway, we enjoyed ourselves, and (finally) headed home, past the palm trees that we couldn't see 'cause it was dark--but here they are in the daylight.


For those who don't want to spend forever reading one blog posting, I'm going to call a halt here and pick up the adventures of Xiaoming and Patsy in Wonderland in our next exciting chapter, which we'll call "Blues in the Night," for reasons that may soon become clear.

Enjoy the pictures, though--here's an extra one of Xiaoming at my house before we started out on our big adventure--and start planning now for a visit soon. You'll LOVE it!!!

Patsy Goes to the Races

Just two very short weeks ago, I was sitting in the blazing sun at my very first live NASCAR race--and LOVING it. The photo shows our view towards Turn 1 and the Finish Line. I've wanted to tell y'all about it long before this, but the events that are going into my next blog (moving!) have kept me pretty busy. So just stop complaining that I haven't written for so long--you'll get two or three blogs pretty quickly, and that is just going to have to make up for it.

So first, for the two (or fewer?) members of the reading audience who don't know the story of how I happened to be sitting at my first NASCAR race, let me quickly recap. My brother's former service manager and his girlfriend are huge NASCAR fans, and they planned to come to this year's UAW Daimler-Chrylser race that was held here at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway (LVMS, for short). They also planned to get married here, so it was to be a really special weekend. To celebrate, they bought top-of-the-line tickets, worth $750 each for the whole 3-day weekend event. And then something happened, a family emergency, and they couldn't go. When it became clear to them that they absolutely couldn't go, they turned around and handed the tickets to Charlie, my brother. Free! Two of the best seats at the race--for all three days! That was just amazing! Well, when Charlie got over his amazement, he asked around and tried to find someone else who could come out here (he was coming anyway, to drive my motor home back to NJ--but that's another story!), but no one could come on such short notice, so he was stuck with--his sister! He told me later that, since I "didn't like" cars, he figured I wouldn't want to go, and he warned me before the race that I needed to get AT LEAST $750-worth of fun and pleasure out of the tickets. That was a tall order, but let me tell you, I got MORE than that much fun and pleasure!

But let me not get ahead of myself. Charlie flew in on Wednesday, March 7, we got me moved into my (furniture-less) apartment on Thursday, and then it was "off to the races." The qualifying event was Friday, the so-called "Busch Cup" was Saturday, and the Big Event was Sunday. And just to get this out of the way, the weather on all three days was fabulous! Last year, for this race, it snowed, but this year there was warm sun behind a cloud cover on Friday, and bright sun on Saturday and Sunday, with temperatures in the high 70s and low 80s. Perfect--especially for Charlie, who left a snow-covered New Jersey and returned to 2 feet of fresh snow a week later.


We headed out around mid-day on Friday, took a less-traveled route to avoid traffic, and only ran into lines of cars when we got within site of the track. We knew we were there because the Thunderbirds thundered overhead as we neared the track--five jets flying in VERY close and/or very dramatic formation. They thrilled me: the race track and the many auxiliary tracks and garages and buildings lie lengthwise in the valley, so that we were always looking out at mountains, and the jets would sweep in from the left (the west--where this shot is pointed: actually this shot shows the cars coming around into Turn 4 following the pace car, just before the start of the race), and they would streak across above the oval and the thousands of motor homes arrayed opposite to us up on a ledge overlooking the track (the drivers' motor homes, which you'll see in a bit) or down below beyond the track (the many, many attendant staffers and mechanics, etc.). The sound trailed behind but was stirring--that is, until I heard my first race car come out of Turn 4 and past us high up in the stands! Now THAT is a stirring sound.

I can't give you a blow-by-blow (that would require many blog postings!), but I'll tell you the highlights. Parking was right across from the main entrance to the track (one of the perks of these tickets), our seats were in Y section (up high enough to see everything--literally) and right in front of a large suite where there was ALWAYS food and drink. We had lunch the first day (some pork and chicken dishes) and 20 drink coupons (for beer and wine, of which I used 2 and Charlie maybe 6--we gave the rest away), and a restroom that was never full, and a place where we could come into on Saturday and Sunday to escape the sun (that was a blessing). We had passes to the Neon Garage, a new facility (literally, some of the concrete was still wet on Friday!) in the center of everything where you could see through windows down into each of the 50 or so garages where all the cars were being worked on before the races, and where there was entertainment (saw a passably good Elvis imitator and a very good group doing The Temptations, among others). Charlie also had a Cold Pass, something that let you into the actual garages themselves at any time other than when the race was on (that requires a Hot Pass--next year!). We did a lot of walking (my pedometer said I walked nearly 4 miles one day and 3 miles another!), and we saw a lot of fascinating stuff.


But I've got to stick to highlights or I'll never finish. I'll do that, but first let me point out a few things in this picture. First the mountains! Directly below them you see a line of large brown dots. Those are the owners' motor homes--about 100 of them, and almost all of them Monster Buses! Below them on the far side of the inner portion of the track are the motor homes of the hoi-poloi. Then you see the large new headquarters of the LVMS, an impressive glass structure. In this particular shot, taken at the pre-race events on Sunday, the Blue Man Group is playing on the stage in front of us. They were great--but even more impressive was how quickly all of that stuff was disassembled and removed when it was time to start the race! Quite a feat. Okay. On to the highlights.

Highlight#1: Seeing--and especially HEARING--the first car take off in the qualifying heats on Friday. It did a warm-up lap, and then, as it came out of Turn 4, right below us, as I said, it accelerated into the first of two "real" laps! WHAT A SOUND! The only thing that topped it was the first time I heard 43 cars accelerate as they passed in front of us and the Busch Race began. Charlie bought me earplugs, which was sweet, but I never used them: I loved the noise too much!


Highlight #2: We left our seats after about 1-1/2 hours of the qualifying laps and went down to board a double-decker bus (a genuine relic of London streets, bought by some enterprising soul and available in this country now for events like this). We sat up top as they took us under the track by tunnel and up into the center of the oval. We got off there and started wandering around. When we got to where we could see our seats, I was taking pictures (to send back to Paul and Diane, the poor guys whose tickets we were using), and I heard a car coming around Turn 3 and into Turn 4. I turned my camera on it to track ahead a bit and catch it coming around Turn 4--and suddenly the car (driven by Michael Waltrip) kissed the wall, spun around, traveled backward for some distance and then, I guess, kind of slowed down and stopped. Some time later, I checked out what I'd snapped, and I've got a picture about a second or two after the initial impact: the car is moving backwards from right to left (well, it's still in my picture, but I think you can tell from the plume of smoke that he's facing the wrong way, and that he's clearly not going in the direction he started out in. That was exciting!

Highlight #3: We had an errand to run at the far end of the racetrack when the qualifying heats were over on Friday, which meant that we wound up in a long slow-moving line of cars heading down Las Vegas Blvd., into the city. Charlie is not a patient man (hope that doesn't come as a surprise to too many of you), so I tried to pick a side street to take that could get us home without the lines of traffic. Well, I don't know Vegas very well yet, so my pick was not a wise one. It took us 2 hours to get back to the apartment (less than 20 miles from the track). We both thought of the old "Family Circle" cartoon that shows the trail left by one of the kids who's sent on an errand that takes him all over the place, doubles back over his tracks, and requires 4 times the time it should have taken. If we'd been leaving a trail, that's how it would have looked!

Highlight #4: The Busch Race itself, which was my first. Many of the drivers in this race also drove again the next day in the Big Race (forgotten how they designated it), It was actually more exciting than the "real" one, both because the winner was not determined until the last few seconds of the race (whereas on Sunday, Jimmie Johnson in the #48 Lowe's car, was pretty much a sure thing to win his second (or was it third) cup in a row at this race--and he didn't disappoint). But in the Busch cup, one of a pair of local brothers (Kurt Bush or his brother, again, I forget) and the winner were fighting it out to the (bitter) end, when the Bush car (and the Bush brothers are locals but not well-liked here) bought the farm in the very last few feet of the race, giving the win to someone who WAS well-liked (check out the papers or the web for the name: I just can't remember--sorry!). You should have heard the cheer that went up when that happened!


Highlight #5: (Well, this actually made us pretty sad!) Charlie called Paul and Diane to tell them that our seats in the grandstand had their names on them!! Can you believe it? Charlie's seat had a label on it saying Paul Franek and mine said DT Wheaton--amazing. Anyway, he talked to Diane who told him that they had been notified a day or two earlier that they had been chosen as one of ten couples who would be married in a community wedding ceremony held in the Winner's Circle before the Busch cup race. What a real shame that they couldn't be here for that! But we did our very best to get as much enjoyment as we could from the wonderful tickets.

Highlight #6: Did I mention the food? Breakfast (which, actually, I think we missed on Saturday, but not on Sunday) and lunch both days. The food was good, but the desserts were really the best, though I didn't sample much of them: sitting in the hot sun with a beer didn't lend itself to sweet things.

Highlight #7: Did I mention the sun? It was blazing, my first real taste of desert sun and heat--in early March! Of course, we didn't have sunscreen, so my enterprising bro went to find some. He finally came back (this was Saturday--there really wasn't much need on Friday, since it was sunny and bright but cloudy and there was quite a nice breeze), holding aloft in triumph a tiny bottle of about 4 oz. of sunscreen. He'd been to four booths, and finally, at the last one (funny how that happens!) the guy sold him the last one he had! It was enough, covered us both for both days (though I forgot to cover my neck and I wound up with my first Nevada sunburn, becoming before your eyes Patsy the Ruby-Throated NASCAR Fan.


Highlight #8: Meeting some of the personnel involved with the Thunderbirds, the jets who did flyovers on all three days. Before I tell you about them, let me explain the picture: It's of the Neon Garage, but, to space the pictures out, I'm including it here. The structure in the center is where the entertainers did their thing. Okay, now back to the Thunderbirds. The crews who maintained the jets served as volunteers staffing the elevators at the racetrack, and a finer, more personable group of handsome young men I have yet to meet. We learned from one fellow, whose job was making sure the ejection mechanism worked on "his" plane, that ejecting sent the pilot out into the ether at a speed of 14 Gs, and that a pilot was only physically able to do that twice. After he'd had to eject the second time, his flying days were over (Charlie and I figured that this was because he was now too short to see out of the cockpit!). But seriously, folks, ejection was too hard on the spine to happen more than a couple of times. These fellows were very interesting to talk to (and to look at, though I think I probably appreciated that aspect more than Charlie did!)--and they handled those elevators like real pros! Never took a wrong turn, always got us there in one piece (and no shorter than when we started)! Good job, guys!

Highlight #9: Something I'd never seen before: Stunt helicopter flying! This was a pre-race feature that was really unexpected. Nellis Air Force Base is just a short ways up the valley beyond the race track, and there were constantly jets flying in and out of the base, so there was lots of excitement in the air, when there wasn't a race going on on the ground. And Nellis it was, I believe, that supplied a stunt helicopter exhibition, with this CRAZY pilot doing somersaults, stuttering at the top of a turn and plunging down, and just generally taking his life in his hands--especially since at the time of his show, there was quite a strong wind. But he made it, and we were appreciative (though I don't think he heard our applause.


Highlight #10: And this has to be the last, though I'll think of other things I should have told you, I'm sure! It was extremely impressive to me to see how the drivers and their crews lined up for the opening ceremonies (Invocation, national anthem, etc.). Each crew has its own uniforms and there are 6-8 guys for each car, and they all line up at the front of their pit stop area, so that you look down at this line of 43 short rows of guys in all colors of the rainbow. I tried for a picture, but I was generally just a few seconds too slow to get it. Anyway, it was quite a thrilling site. And I'm closing with another thrilling sight that I just can't resist: here are 4 of the Thunderbird jets swooping in from over the mountains in a pretty doggone impressive bit of formation flying.

Oh, and on Saturday, it only took about an hour and a half to get home, and on Sunday, we made it in just under an hour. If the weekend had lasted one more day, I believe I could have actually found a direct route home from the track to my apartment comparable to the direct route TO the track. Going TO the track was relatively simple, but I think, after three tries, I'd sort of have to say, "Hmmm, come to think of it, you cahn't get heah from theah"! The bottom line is that I'm learning about this city that you do not use the highways, if you can find anyway to avoid them--except for the 215, which was the one I took to and from work when I lived in the motor home. That highway was rarely clogged, and I could always do a reasonable 65 (or a Vegas-normal 75 or 80, while the sportscars would pass me like shots on the left).

Okay, that's it for the races. The next posting will be about my new apartment, and then I've got to tell you about Charlie's adventures driving the motor home to its temporary home in New Jersey. And then I've got to show you how beautiful my part of the city (Summerlin) is in the spring, and then. . . .

Bend It Like the Beard Boys

For this new post, we're leaving Las Vegas and going home (to Austin) for a whirlwind visit with friends and family. And it was a whirlwind trip, that's fer shure, fer shure! Originally it was to be a 54-hour visit, but then I missed my flight out of Vegas. That could have been disastrous, but it actually wasn't that much of a problem, though it did cut down my time in Austin by three hours.

So let's start there. Flight out of Vegas at 8:30--well, really, 8:25, and in this case, those five minutes were crucial. I had NO IDEA what a madhouse McCarren Airport was, even on a fairly normal Friday morning. We'd been hearing about the chaos at the airport early in the week, because of the NBA Allstars game, which was held here for the first time in either a long time or forever. But I had no idea that chaos reigns supreme in Vegas at ALL times! Anyway, I got there--to the airport--with enough time to make the flight--if it was Austin. But it was Vegas, and there were hundreds and hundreds of people there, going through security four abreast in lines that stretched for miles, it seemed.


By the time I got to the gate, the door was closed and a few seconds later, the plane pulled away from the gate, leaving about ten of us standing there, sadly watching as it left (thoughts that I wouldn't have as much time as I'd planned in Austin to see "my boys"--there are two of them right here: Jason with his dad--made me really sad!). That was a bad moment, but it didn't last long. The people at the gate were very helpful and got us all on planes that, at least in my case, delayed everything by three hours, but was otherwise a fine solution. The bad news was that I had to amuse myself for 3 hours in the Las Vegas airport (which, for those who don't know, is FULL of slot machines! PLEASE don't throw me into that br'ar patch, Br'er Bear!). And I missed my haircut appointment in Austin on Friday afternoon. The good news was that my suitcase was already in Austin when I got there, so I didn't have to wait for it. And Karen flew into Austin from Dallas just when I did, so we hitched up there, I got my rental car, and we went on to pick up the boys.


Had a nice evening with Karen and Jon-Michael and Jason: we started out playing "throw the ball over the garage" (here's Jon-Michael showing off his arm), dinner at Schlotzky's, and then a trip to Barnes & Noble. Then back to their house, to play some games and then, at 11:30, to watch a movie. The movie was "Eight Below," about the eight sled dogs that were left "below" in the Antartic. Jon-Michael bowed out early and went to bed with a good book. But Jason, Karen, and I toughed it out to the end of the movie. The plan was that I would sleep with Jon-Michael, while Jason slept with his folks. But Jason had a better idea: "Mom," he said, as he and Karen started up the stairs, "I know: Grandma could sleep in the middle of the bed with me [i.e., between Mom and Dad!]." Lovely idea, young man, but I don't think so!


The next day was soccer practice: I got some great pictures of the boys, especially Jason, and I'm going to share a few more here, no matter what you say. Here's Jason, the Ham, before his practice. What a guy! Jason, with his nine cohorts (half in black shirts, half in blue) followed that ball up and down the field like a flock of birds, all turning in unison when one of them connected with the ball. Jason's eyes never left the ball--it was amazing to watch!


Jon-Michael's game was later in the afternoon, after I had a lovely lunch with Nancy VandeMark. It was fun to catch up with her, after her recent trip to Florida. Then it was back down south for Jon-Michael's game. Here he is between periods as he's heading over to us. How's that for stylish sports attire. And I'm especially envious of his head of curls. What a guy!


I had my re-scheduled haircut after the game--my friend Pam, who's also my hairdresser, accommodated me and we had a great time catching up. Then it was off to the Wegers, Kurtis and Lisa, whom I've missed SO much since I left. Here they are, caught just a bit off-guard, after a great meatloaf supper. Our friend Jiexia (who is Bob the Good Boarder's special friend) was also there, though Bob was in Los Angeles and couldn't be there.


One of the big items for me was meeting Lisa and Kurtis's new dog, Gizmo, a little (seven tiny pounds worth) toy poodle. Here's Gizmo in Jiexia's arms--what a special little gizmo he is! They found him on Craig's List--amazing! The listing had only been there for an hour when they found it and followed up. So now our dear Bart, Lisa and Kurtis's dog who left us late last year, is looking down and, we're sure, approving highly of this new little member of the Weger household.

I spent a lovely night (my first!) at the Wegers, and in the morning I had--finally--one of Lisa's special 2-hour (almost) massages. Boy! Have I missed those! It was on to my condo, to see Chris, my renter, who served me spectacular Danishes that she made herself (she's SO talented!), and then to the Novels in Progress group that I've been a member of for 2-3 years now. It was great to see them and catch up with all their activities.

One more hour with Karen and the boys, back to the airport, return the rental car (great news there: instead of $83, only $63 for a weekend rental! Can't beat that!), and no hurry this time: caught the plane in plenty of time--AND had a great trip home watching Studio 60 and Lost episodes on my iPod. It was a pretty full flight, but I must live right, because there was no one in the middle seat, so I had lots of room. We landed about 10 minutes early--and within 35 minutes of touchdown, I was climbing into my motor home. That's the upside of living about 6-7 miles from the airport!


Okay, I know this hasn't been one of the more exciting of my postings, but I do have pictures, so I hope that helps you get over it. Here's one last one that I couldn't resist. Jason just has to show off the happy face that his dad drew on his hand. So we all wish you a great day, and we'll see you next time.

Deliverance--Part Deux

Back again. Here's the promised view of the kitchen. It's light cabinetry, so that, even though there's not much natural light in there, it's not as dark as it might be. There's a dishwasher, a stove, a refrigerator (with ice-maker) and lots of cabinets. I'm not going to have much to fill them up with right now, because I was selective in loading up the motor home, but I don't care. It'll be nice to have empty space--for a while, at least.


Now if you walk a step or two further into the apartment and look the length of the living and dining areas, you look out onto this little patio. My camera was shocked by being aimed out the window, so the picture was very dark, and I tried to lighten it up. I think that my apartment faces east, so I'll have morning sun but shade in the afternoon and evening. From what I hear about Vegas temperatures, it gets VERY hot in the daytime, but it cools down very nicely in the evening, and there are no bugs--YAY!!! So I expect I will be sitting out there with my laptop doing writing of one sort or another. I LIKE that image!


The bedroom is just a square room, BUT it has both a large closet with sliding glass doors AND a walk-in closet (I remember saying, when I bought my condo, that I would NEVER again live in a domicile without a walk-in closet! Well, except for the motor home!). And it opens into one part of a two-part bathroom, with a counter with a sink and a bathtub/shower area. It's pretty big, really amazingly big, considering, and it has a door that opens into the other part of the two-part bathroom, which is really HUGE (please note that I'm standing IN the bathroom when I'm taking this picture), and has a toilet and a sink. So that second part is available to guests who don't need access to the shower part of the bathroom. It's a really clever floor plan, one I've never seen before.


Back in the living room, take a look at what's called the "entertain- ment center," those two "caves" at the far end of the picture. They're molded into/out of the wall (I think they call them "radius walls"--at least that's what the rental agent called them. They're stucco or plaster, but the corners are all rounded). Anyway, the upper cavity holds up to a 30" TV and the bottom can handle cable, DVD, stereo or whatever. I was thinking I'd have my stereo shipped from Austin, but I don't know where I'd put it, so I think I'll just get a small one (a Bose, maybe?) and ship out my CDs. In between the two tables that you see there, by the way, is the doorway into the bedroom. I'll probably put a small desk where the table is (maybe I'll have my grandmother's writing desk shipped out), and maybe even a wine table like the decorator has done.


The final photo is taken from the parking lot in front of the rental office, and I'm looking across Town Center Drive at one of the buildings in the 10-building Yucca Mountain Project complex. It's your first real look (but it won't be your last!) at the mountain range that looms over my office. And that big impressive green glass facade is where I went on my first morning here (just one month ago yesterday!), to get my temporary badge and an escort to the building where I would actually work. From the best of my figuring, my office is pretty much directly under the light pole that you can see--on the far side of the four buildings that form a sort of circle on the far side of the block. The building you can see is part of a similar circle of buildings, so I'll be walking to the other side of that block--should be about a 10 minute walk to and fro every day. I'm not sure that I'll walk home at lunchtime, since they only take 1/2 hour lunches (I got spoiled in the rest of my corporate career--I've always had an hour for lunch). But I can microwave something and eat at my desk with no problem.

Anyway, I hope you can see why I'm so excited about this final move. I say once more that I love the motor home--in its place. It's great when all I have is time--and when there are lots of resources around if I need help. That has NOT been the case here, and it only took me a month to find it out. And not too much money, either.

Okay, that's it for now. More on this as I figure out what's next. But I think my next blog is either going to be about casinos (the pink elephant in the middle of the room that I haven't mentioned) or about some of the sites I've been hearing about nearby.

Deliverance--in One Month

I've done it! Yep! I've done it. I've rented an apartment, my brother is going to drive the motor home back to Maine so it'll be there when I'm there--and where there is plenty of help and time to deal with motor home problems (see "The Motor Home Chronicles," recent blog). I'll store it there very near Scott's home (for only $62 a month, quite do-able), and whenever I'm in Maine (3-week vacation this summer, I believe, and when I leave this job, whenever that turns out to be), I'll have "my own front door," as I did this summer.

Charlie (my brother) will be here on March 9, I believe, and my move-in date is March 10, and I'm going to rent some furniture while I look around for pieces I like (or have them shipped from Texas, if that works out), and I just couldn't be happier. The motor home, as I've said, is an adventure, but with my work schedule and my moonlighting activities, adventure is going to have to wait.

But let me tell you--and SHOW you--my new apartment. First of all, it's in the Falling Water Luxury Apartment Home complex. And the apartments are, indeed, VERY nice. I looked at a 2-bedroom, but I really don't think I need that much space. In the 1-bedroom, I have about 185 square feet less than in my condo in Texas (1005 vs. 1190), but I have 2 fewer rooms and one fewer bathroom, so the square footage in this apartment appears to be--and is--much more spacious, as you'll see. In fact, I like my kitchen more than the condo kitchen (not that I'm all that familiar with the condo kitchen)!


Okay, here's the view from the back of the golf cart that whisked me away to the model apartment so that I could take pictures (for this posting and for figuring out what I need to rent to fill it up). You're looking at the office, the ubiquitous palm trees, and the mail hut (complete with mail truck). We'll revisit the view in this direction at the end of this little tour, and you'll be even more impressed.

Inside, I want to show you first the kitchen, to prove my point that it's nicer than my condo kitchen. In the model apartment, it's to the left of the entrance, and to the right is a laundry room that's considerably larger than the one in my condo, that INCLUDES a washer/dryer (YAY!!) and that has a painting on the wall. Va-va-va-voom!!! Pretty classy, right? Well, I WANT to show this to you, but I don't seem to be able to pull pictures in one at a time, so I'm going to quit this posting, and start Part Deux. THAT one will include the rest of the photos.

Back in a mo', as they say elsewhere.

The Motor Home Chronicles

It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry, folks, but it has been a time full of little fires to put out. And a time of a BIG decision. Oh, and a little bit of fun, and a continued appreciation of this dramatically beautiful place. Let's see, where to start?

A couple of observations: First, this area is gorgeous! These days, I get out of work sometimes right after sunset, when there's a pale green glow behind the mountains. And the silhouette of those mountains is just dramatic, all toothed and craggy. And then, by the time I get up to the 215 for the drive down the west side of the city, it's dark and I can see the whole valley (the "meadows," I assume, for which the city was long ago named), and it stretches from the range of mountains to the west to the range of mountains to the east, and all down the valley as far as the eye can see, and it's lit with millions (literally) of twinkling lights, and it looks exactly like a magic carpet of lights. It takes my breath away. I want to pull off and stop and just soak it all in. Instead, I get to see it every night on my way home. At least now I do: when the days get longer, the nightly carpet will elude me.

Oh, and have I told you that, shooting out of the middle of all those twinkling lights is this intense beam of light aiming up into the heavens? It comes out of the top of the Luxor pyramid and I guess it's on all the time--or at least all the dark part of the day. You can always tell where you are relative to the Strip--at least, at night--if you can see that beam.

On the other hand, I spent more than 45 minutes tonight, driving around the streets near where I live, trying to find--a grocery store! And I couldn't find one. Anywhere! There was a Target--but not one with a grocery store. And there was something called Food4Less, but it was sort of like a run-down Sam's, with everything in bulk, or at least in quantities of more than one. I wanted a bag of salad greens--Nope! I wanted nonfat milk (1/2 gallon)--One left, and I almost missed that. I'm really amazed. There's just nothing within miles of where I live! I guess, if I want groceries, I'm going to have to shop up near where I work, where there are several really nice shopping centers with Albertson's, Vonn's, and Smith's grocery stores.

Speaking of where I work, it's time to talk about little fires, which have been the story of my life for the past 3-4 days. If it's not one thing, it has been three others. Let's see, I don't think I mentioned that I've had sewer problems. Last Tuesday morning (still wet from the shower), I responded to a knock on the door (it was 7:20 a.m.!), and let John from Master Mobile in. He was carrying a 3-foot length of plastic pipe, and he went straight to work. Within 5 minutes, he had poked a hole through the pile that had built up in my toilet, and once again things were flowing. Hurray, I thought, as I handed him a check for $120 (by my calculations, he's making somewhere around $700/hour at that rate! Mother should have told me to forget about college and marry a plumber who makes house calls!)

But that was not the end of it. Things "flowed" for a while--John had instructed me to always fill the toilet bowl twice--FULL--whenever I used it, so as to flush stuff down thoroughly. Well, that worked for the first day or two (though there were always air bubbles making geysers every time I flushed. But by Friday, I COULDN'T fill the bowl twice: If I did, it wouldn't go down, because the pipe was full. After a few hours, I could put more water down, but again, that would need several hours to drain. By Saturday evening, I couldn't put even one full bowl of water down there! I was NOT a happy camper. It was just one (but the biggest one) of the fires, but this was one that I had already paid someone to fix--and it hadn't happened!

So today, I called John and did my version of reaming him out! I think it worked: he's coming tomorrow or Wednesday (I'm going to leave my door unlocked, since I can't be here), I hope he'll do a REAL job of clearing things out of the pipe and the tank, and so far, he has not mentioned that I need to leave him a check for any amount.

Next little fire: ON Thursday, I felt a crack in my denture. Panic in the streets: I had had my denture break during my 2-1/2-month stay in South Carolina, and I tried to patch it myself with no luck. But finally I took it to a dentist that a local recommended to me, and she patched it with acrylic, and it's been perfect ever since. In fact, I think the patch is the strongest part of the denture. So, figuring that someone here could do the same thing, I got a recommendation from a local for a good dentist here. However, this dentist was out of the office until Monday, so I crossed my fingers and tried not to bite down, hoping the denture would last till then.

Nope! Friday night, in the middle of a great Quizno's sandwich, I heard the crunch, and I knew it was all over. I could still wear the denture, but the broken edge was sharp and it was very uncomfortable. So, as much as I could, I traveled without it. To give you "the rest of this story," I went to the dentist this morning. I liked her (she's British, tall, thin, blonde, and probably 35. I will probably stay with her (I also like her staff; it's a small office, so I already know everyone there, and I like that).

However, there's more to tell: the denture came back an hour early--yes, you heard me, "came back." This was not just applying some acrylic to put the two pieces together. This was getting the pieces picked up by a lab, worked on, and sent back, for a total of $632, of which I paid $366. THAT was a surprise, let me tell you! I asked about it (DUH!), and was told that they put NEW teeth on the denture. But we looked, and the teeth were NOT new--in fact, all they'd done was exactly what I had asked in the first place. Anyway, the dentist agreed that the lab had overcharged, and I got $91 back. I'm happy with the dentist, but I hope I don't have anything more to do with that lab. Anyway, bottom line, I can smile again!

That was fire #2. Next fire: I've had a light on my dashboard (spelling "BRAKE" that's been intermittently on and off, and has lately been on all the time. I needed an oil change (Kurtis, if you're reading this, it was 90,978, just 22 miles short of the 91,000 miles at which I was due. I'm a good girl!). Try and find a Jiffy Lube! Just try!!! Finally I found a Terrible's Lube. Yep, that's right: Terrible's. They're all over the place here, gas stations, car washes, convenience stores (with full banks of video poker and slot machines in every store), and, yes, lube joints. They changed my oil ($35--Kurtis, you sure have spoiled me!) and, when I asked them to check out the fluids, they said everything was full (including the brake fluid). Their guess was it was malfunctioning gauge in the fluid container. I'll have to go get my 90,000-mile check up soon, and I'll have Toyota look at it. But that took most of Saturday afternoon.

Sunday, I was nervous (toilet and denture problems hovering over my head), but I figured I could make it until Monday. And then, it started. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Omigod! What now? It seemed to be coming from the LP gas alarm, which is near the floor of the hallway, next to the bathroom door. But the only light (of three) that was lit was the "Operating" light (green, a good sign). The "Alarm" light wasn't lit, and the "Fault" light (amber) wasn't lit. But a couple of hours earlier, when I'd been sitting with the doors open, eating my lunch, I thought I'd smelled gas. So I did what I was told in the Operator's Manual, and turned off the LP gas, and got down at the level of the alarm to see if I could smell it--and no, I couldn't smell anything. But the alarm was still beeping.

So what did I do? What would YOU have done? Right. I left! I went to the movies. Yep, I spent 2-1/2 hours enjoying Helen Mirren's outstanding performance in "The Queen." I figured, if the motor home was going to blow up, it'd be better if I wasn't here. Don't you agree? I went to a theater about 5 miles away, so that, if it blew up, it wouldn't spoil the movie for me. And when I got back home, everything was still as I left it, with the alarm beeping away. So this time I walked further into the bedroom--and that's when I realized that it wasn't the LP gas alarm at all. It was the carbon monoxide alarm--beeping because the battery was running down, I assume. So I tried, and I tried, and I tried, and I COULD NOT unscrew the gadget so that I could check out the battery. I could push the button to turn it off, but after a few minutes it would come back on. This time, though, the beep came about every 20 seconds. I can live with that--once I could stop worrying about an explosion, I could get some sleep. But it does get annoying. And I don't have any idea whom I can get to come in and manhandle that cover off. I just flat can't do it.

Well, my brother's coming in 5 weeks. Maybe by then there won't be enough juice in the battery to even operate the beeps. I can hope, can't I?

One more small fire: I got up this morning to take my shower (after a bad night of beeping), and there was no hot water. It was the last straw! Of course, it was my fault: I'd forgotten to turn the water heater pilot light back on after turning off the LP gas. Pushed that button this morning, and had plenty of hot water in about 10 minutes--but no longer enough time for my shower, unfortunately.

Okay, now to the Big Decision. Can you guess what it was, after all this? I've decided I've had enough Adventure for one year. I've decided that a motor home is a great place for a man or maybe for a younger single woman. But for me, at 65, with a full-time job, a book to try to edit in the moonlight, and nobody to call on for help when things go wrong (unless I can hire them--but things always seem to go wrong on the weekends, when no one's around), it's just too much stress and not enough fun.

So here's my decision. I'm going to spend the next month (until Charlie comes around March 9th) finding and renting an apartment, hopefully near my work. In fact, there's a nice complex right across the street from my office that has fairly reasonable rent. And I'll rent enough furniture to take care of basic needs until I can replace it with non-rented stuff--and Charlie has agreed to drive the motor home back to Maine, where we'll store it until I can use it again the way I did this summer. That was really, really fun, living there and enjoying all the Bonney-Hogg family, but having my own front door. And meanwhile, Scott and family can use it on occasion, and I may even be able to rent it out now and then.

So. How's that for a turn-around? Oh, yes, I have decided that, even though that big newer motor home would have been great, and beautiful, and much easier to deal with on many of the issues that have been a problem with this one, it's still a motor home, and the problems I've had with this one could occur with that one. Unless it comes with a "handy man" as a built-in, I'd still be stressed out trying to take care of stuff. So I'm giving up on that idea, though I'm sad. It'd be great to have such a nice place to live in and travel around in later on. But I don't think I want to spend that much money for a part-time home.

Enough for tonight. I'm DEFINITELY going to have pictures for y'all soon. It is SUCH a gorgeous area. I can't wait to show it off to you!

Not sure where this blog will go next--but hopefully it'll be soon. Tune in for the next chapter. . . .

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love. . .

. . . sewer hoses! And their contents.

I've discovered something of an emergency in my sewer line. Here's the long version of the story (because I'm constitutionally incapable of telling the short version of anything):

My brother parked my motor home way forward on my slip, so that the awning (once I decided that the winds had died down enough on a sort of permanent basis to put the awning out, since it's broken and not easy to put out and take down by myself) would shade the picnic table for my site. I think that was a good thing to do because I've heard that, once it gets warmer, it still stays cool at nights so that it's pleasant to be outside (and there are no bugs). So I have visions of taking my (large) laptop out to the picnic table of an evening and writing on a fairly regular basis. But that's another story. . .

Anyway, because I'm so far forward on my site, it's a looooong way from the black water and gray water tanks to the sewer dump. So my brother bought an additional 15-foot length of sewer hose, along with one of those expandable track thingees that you can prop the hose up on, so as to develop a sort of downward angle for the "material to be transported" to travel so that it doesn't pile up in the hose right at the motor home. Well, there are several things wrong with this scenario, it's turning out.

First, 30 feet of hose is about 10 feet too many. And second, those little track thingees, when they're made out of plastic, as mine is, don't hold up under the strain that the "material to be transported" puts on them. Last night, when I got home around 10 p.m., I noticed that my track thingee had contracted in some places, broken in one place, and the hose had fallen off it in other places. I decided not to tackle the problem at that hour, but today, when I went out there to reconnoiter, I discovered that the "material to be transported" had a VERY circuitous route to travel--and, bottom line, it was not moving. The hose at the dump end was very light, while the hose at the motor home end was very heavy--that was my first clue.

Well, I massaged (literally) and cajoled and manipulated and re-positioned that hose for a good half hour today, got it back up on the tracks, tried to convince it not to fall in and make little "U" traps every few feet along the track, and, holding my breath for fear it'd all collapse again, finally decided I'd made as obstacle-free a path as I could with as much of a downhill trend to it as possible.

So, thinking lovely thoughts about the whole process, I then went inside to check things out there. And discovered that there's still a major portion of the "material to be transported" that hasn't gone anywhere and is still sitting in the tank. I've tried flushing it out--my hose has quite a bit of water pressure, since I'm on the campground water system--but that's not very successful. And of course, it's now after 6 p.m. on Saturday night, so I'm going to have to wait until Monday to get plumbing help. I think I can hold out (I use the term advisedly) until then; I've decided I'll use other facilities (why not the casinos? I'm certainly paying enough for the privilege) as much as possible, and then we'll see what's what.

One simple answer (that is, it's simple if there's two of me, but not so simple with just one of me) is to move the motor home back on the site so that I only need one length of hose to reach the tank. But my brother has me up on a pile of orange Lego tiles in the front so that I'm level, and he has me jacked up front and back so that I don't rock, and I'm VERY reluctant to mess around with all of that. As I say, if my brother were still here, I'd do it in a New York second. But he's not, and I don't know anyone here well enough to ask for help. He's coming for the weekend of March 10--but I'm not sure I want to wait that long, if the problem continues. So we'll see how things have progressed on Monday, and maybe we'll call in the troops.

Another (little) problem: I finally connected with the young IT guy for the campground. He's an arrogant young man who knows his stuff but makes it clear that he only works 8-5 and won't answer the phone any other time and, if he works on anything else, it's for $50/hour, dammit, and not a penny less. Well, I finally got him to come and do the IT work (which is the campground's responsibility: getting me connected to the internet, which I was for the first day, and then wasn't for about 10 days). He made the HUGE concession of coming one evening and taking care of that.

While he was here, I told him that I wasn't getting the 28 cable channels I was paying for as part of my site fee. I also wanted to have a DVD player for the living room TV. "Well," he said, "I'd do it for you, but I charge $50/hour and it'd probably take 2 hours" (I could tell he was trying to scare me off)--and I said, "Done. And you get to buy me the DVD player, so that you'll know that it works, fits, and will do the job." "Ah, er, well, okay," he said, and you could see the dollar signs in his eyes. If he wasn't so cute, and so wet behind the ears as far as behaving professionally, and so good as far as knowing his stuff, I never would have pushed him on it.

Anyway, last Sunday, he was supposed to come but blew me off. Then Monday he was going to come, but I told him I couldn't get home until 7 p.m., and he said he had something going on. So Tuesday he finally showed up--10 minutes late, thank goodness, and not unexpectedly, since I didn't get home until exactly 6:30, as I'd promised. He had the DVD player (a $40 number that he'd bought at Walgreens, so I was happy with that--and he didn't charge me for the time he spent finding and buying it--ONLY because he didn't think of it, you can be sure!). And sure enough, he took about 1 hour and 45 minutes to do the job because it was such a mess up in that compartment. Audio had been wired into video, things had been wired to themselves, and NOTHING had been done in a straightforward and intelligent manner. And I believe that was really the way it was, because he showed me a lot of the problems that he found, and I kept hearing him say, "I can't BELIEVE it," as he found the next problem.

He worked very fast and very efficiently, and when the dust settled, I had 28 clear channels in the front (only 12 in the back, because the remote is gone for that TV and the universal remote that I bought won't allow him to set up the TV to accept the channels--which is not a problem). And I could have watched a DVD if I'd wanted to. I was so pleased, I paid him for 2 hours, and gave him an extra $10 to cover the cost of the tax on the DVD player and a bit of his time in buying it. We were both happy--and it was a pleasure to see that HE was pleased because he'd been so reluctant to do the job at the start.

Well, all of that was great, and through the week I've watched some TV. Last night, though, I wanted to watch a DVD, and I pushed all the buttons he told me to--and I can't get the DVD to show up on the TV. DOGGONE IT! I'm scared to call him and leave a message on Monday and say, "Please tell me again what the configuration is so that I can watch DVDs," because he treated me (probably with some justice) as a very slow-learning kindergartner when he was showing me how to get it to work. And of course it'll cost me. But I'm going to be brave and call him--I certainly don't want to wait until my brother gets here in 6 weeks!

Speaking of my brother, he called me yesterday to tell me that one of his friends up there in New Joisey wants to sell his motor home. He used it to go to car races all over the country, but he's not racing any more, and he'd rather have the money than the motor home. His wife doesn't feel the same way about it--she LOVES the motor home--but I guess he's calling the shots on this one, so. . . .

Anyway, for the guys among you who care about these things, I don't know what the make or model is (my brother's going to get me that info next week), but it's a 39-foot (mine's a 32-foot) 2004 (mine's a 1998) motor home with two slide-outs (mine has none), hydraulic levels, a rear-facing TV, and all the bells and whistles that he could get when he bought it. Also it has only 29,000 miles on it (mine had 39,000). Charlie says he's taken great care of it (the plastic is still on the carpets, as was the case with mine last spring), and paid more than $200,000 for it. He owns it out-right and wants, as I say, to sell it.

I'm just drooling over it, especially after I've spent a month in this one. I do have enough space in here, if I get rid of some things (for one thing, the 12 boxes of my mother's photographs and slides, which I have to start working on one of these days). But I have to say I'm getting really tired of having to walk sideways around my bed, remembering to duck so that I don't hit my head on the TV shelf, and only having 2/3 of the bed to sleep in, because the other third is serving as part of my clothes storage.

Anyway, since I always say, "Dream big," and since it doesn't hurt to ask, I'm going to the bank on Monday or Tuesday, to talk to "my" banker. I met him the other day, a really nice guy, who made me feel as though I was a valuable customer. I came in because a transfer I'd made in my accounts hadn't shown up as quickly as I thought it should. Turned out I was just impatient--it would show up in a day or so--so I said, "Well, I guess I didn't really need to come in," and he said, "Oh, but you did--so that we could meet." Well, that was enough for me: he is now "my" banker, in the way that Alice Jones was "my" banker when I lived back in Pittsburg. I felt I could go in there, put my problem or my plan to her, and she'd work with me to solve it or implement it. That was nice--but I haven't felt that very often. When I bought the motor home last May, the woman I worked with at the branch in Austin became a friend, a sort of "my" banker kind of person, but she got transfered, so that sort of fizzled.

Anyway, I'm going to go in and ask Dan Clark what he sees (now that I've got a big healthy bank account and a nice income) as the possibilities for upgrading. Charlie says I should fly up there and see the motor home--I'll be sold right away, he says: he's seen it. And AirTran, a new airline, I believe, flies right into Newburgh, which is 1/2 an hour from his house. So I'm thinking about it--very seriously. Of course, Charlie would drive it down here and get me set up again.

What do y'all think of that? I know there'll be a variety of opinions on this, and I want to hear them all--and then I'll do what I want, so be prepared for that!

Enough for today. For my next posting, I've decided to put up my 2006 Christmas letter. I only mailed out about 5 of them, and I wanted to mail all of them, but it's getting ridiculously late, so I think I'll just post it and y'all can read it or not, as you choose. And it has pictures! Later, guys. . . .

Pretty in Pastels

It's been a week since I last posted. Time really, really does fly when you're having as much fun as I am. I have absolutely NO trouble getting to sleep these days; I can even fall asleep when my feet are cold, which was never true before. I'm not yet in the rythm of going to bed early and getting up early--I'm not usually in bed much before midnight, and once this week it was 2 a.m., so it's VERY hard to hop out of bed all bright and cheerful at 7 a.m. But I'm still working on it. Thank heavens the office is happy to have me there later in the afternoon in case stuff comes up and an editor is needed. Most everyone else is in there by 7:30 or 8, and they're on their way home around 5 p.m. But I stay (happily) until 6 or 6:30, and everyone's happy.

I got my first REAL report to edit on Wednesday. It's only 350 pages (the big ones can run over 1,000) but it's certainly big compared to the 15-20 pagers I've been working on. It's quite a challenge: the author is Chinese, although he's quite an exuberant and energetic fellow and I hear him talking all day long. His name is Fred and I like him. I think he likes me, too. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me coming at him down the corridor and say, "Hi Pat-sy!" He emphasizes both syllables of my (new) name as if he were trying it out. I love to hear him say it.

I'm compiling a list of questions to go over with him. He's quite attached to what he's written, so every change of any import at all is a big thing with him, so I'm going to have, as Ricky R. used to say, "a lotta 'splainin' to do, Patsy!" I've spent 2-1/2 days on it so far, with another 3-4 to go. But today, just before I left, one of the checkers came to tell me there's a higher-priority document that needs to be ready for review by the end of next week, so I'm leaving Fred for a bit (and believe me, I'll have a hard time 'splainin' that to him, too), and tackling Mike (hmmm, interesting image!). I'm really in the thick of things now--feels as though I've worked there for months instead of just three weeks.

Okay, you're probably wondering why the title. It's because of my drive to work. There are several extraordinary things about my drive to work. The first has nothing to do with colors, pastel or otherwise. It has to do with speed. So far, I've driven to work 15 mornings (and home most of those evenings), and with two exceptions, I've driven the 23 or so miles to work in about 30 minutes. Amazing! Why, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked, 'cause I'm gonna tell you.

I drive to work on the 215. That's how they talk about the main highways in this town. It's the 15, the 95, the 515, and the 215. The 15 pretty much divides the city, running diagonally from the southwest (my side of town) to the northeast. It parallels the Strip--and it is like I-35 and MoPac in the mornings: a parking lot. Thank heavens I don't have to deal with it. Coming home at night I get on it at exit 34, stay in the righthand lane, and get off at exit 33, and that's never a problem. When I get off it, I'm pretty much home, which is really nice.

The other major highways, I think, are similarly mobbed--at least, from what I can tell from the local traffic reports. But I avoid those, too, except for the 215, which I get on from the south end of the strip/Las Vegas Boulevard, which is the next street over from this RV park. My entrance to the 215 is at the same place as the entrance to the 15, which is directly under the traffic pattern for McCarren Airport. So here I am in the morning, driving east DIRECTLY into the sun for about a block, then turning north onto the Strip and driving for about four or five LONG blocks. Along this stretch of the strip is--NOTHING. Amazingly, much of this part of my trip is nothing but vacant lots, acres and acres of them, just sitting there, waiting (I assume) for someone to build a casino on them.

It's not ALL vacant, of course: there are lots of little stores lining the airport side of the road, and at one point there's the Las Vegas Outlet Mall, which is huge and may attract some of you to come visit me who aren't at all attracted by the casinos. Yes, people, there's an outlet mall within a mile or two of where I live. So come on down!

Anyway, I am now driving north on the Strip with McCarren on my right. And it--the airport--is RIGHT THERE. In fact, if I were to continue down the Strip, as I have done on weekends, past the famous "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign (which, my brother tells me, has been moved several times, because they keep building Las Vegas out in my direction), I'd pass a long stretch of tall black iron fence through which you can see the helicopters and private jets that are part of the Executive Park section of the airport parked right next to the fence. And the private jets come in right over the Strip, sometimes low enough that you think they're going to roll across the top of the car! Beyond them are the landing strips for McCarren, and sometimes, when the wind is right, the big jets come in over the Strip, too, looking for all the world as if they were going to crash into the big casinos that start RIGHT THERE, with Mandalay Bay the first one in line. That right there is an amazing early morning sight: a jet passing by the 15th or 16th floor (it seems) of Mandalay Bay Casino. If I haven't fully woken up yet, I do when I see one of those jets coming in.

Anyway, when I turn onto the on-ramp for the 215, I'm traveling right alongside all the people who have to take the 15 to get to work. And do I feel sorry for them! I sail down my long on-ramp alongside streams of cars that are slowing down and coming to a stop in order to try and insert themselves into the three packed lanes of traffic also trying to go north at a snail's pace. But (except for the two mornings when there were accidents on the 215) I can just sail onto MY highway.

As I said, that is one of the two things that is absolutely mind-boggling about my morning commute. I'm on that road between 8 and 8:30, which in any city is rush hour--and I have caught myself doing 80. On my way to work during "rush hour"!!! Amazing! Unbelievable! Astonishing! The 215, about 2 miles after I get on it, becomes the Bruce Woodberry Belt, and bless ole' Bruce's heart, I don't think anyone in Vegas has heard of it, because it's so UNcrowded. I love it.

The other thing I love is that, for the 20-30 minutes I'm on it, I am treated every morning to the most fabulous pastel views! Lovely vistas. I think this is true from most of the highways, but I think it's especially true of the BW Belt, the 215. The first thing that makes me catch my breath is the huge expanse of flat ground that stretches to the mountains, about 25 miles away. Las Vegas (as I think I said) means "the meadows," and it is literally a huge meadow of one-story dwellings and businesses. For pretty much 360 degrees, I could turn (if I weren't driving a car) and see "meadows" populated with low structures right up to the mountains, which suddenly jut out of the ground on all sides of this giant meadow. At night, if you can get above it just a little ways, which is easy to do on one of the highways, it's flat land for miles with a carpet of twinkling lights uniformly laid down on it.

But not all of the buildings are one story. I take the 215 north, then west, then north again, until I'm up in the Summerlin area, which is where my office is. I turn east at the Summerlin parkway, to the second exit, which is mine, and now I'm facing back into the heart of the city, and this morning, as is true most mornings, it was memorable. There was still a light bit of mist across the valley, sort of as in the days when people cooked over open fires and the smoke would kind of hang over the villages. And jutting above the film of mist are all the casinos, like 20 Gullivers in a land of Lilliputians. And beyond the misty meadows are the ever-present mountains.

So every morning, to get from my motor home to Summerlin in northwest Las Vegas, I have to drive around 23 miles heading straight into and along the most beautiful of the mountains (in my humble opinion). It wasn't until this, my third weekx, that I realized that, when I first get onto the 215 and look north towards my ultimate destination, there is only one building more than two stories tall, and it's the new Red Rock Casino, with a hotel about 15 stories tall. So it rises head and shoulders above everything else you can see. It is so amazing to me to look over there and see the place, 20 miles away, that I'm aiming for and to almost be able to trace where I'll be going--and then just sail along that road with nothing to impede me. It is some experience.

Oh yes, and the "Pretty in Pastels" title? Well, that is it in a nutshell. There is that whole beautiful view, that whole drive, and it's all done in the most gorgeous pastels. Pink, pale blue (a brighter blue in the sky, which is usually cloudless), light brown, sandstone, salmon, peach, and some actual red rock (dusty brick red) that I assume gave the Casino (and that whole area) its name. And along the highway, beyond its extra-wide shoulders, are stone fences (noise-proofing fences, I'd guess) with just a row of roofs peeking over them, with the roofs picking up both the jagged outlines of the mountains AND their colors.

My words don't begin to do it justice. I WILL TAKE SOME PICTURES, I promise. It'll be hard to get it in that early morning light (just as it's hard to get ME into early morning light). But I'll try.

Sorry, this posting is no shorter--it may even be longer--than the others. But I just wish I could convey the beauty that helps me to start off my day every day. Come and see me if you can't yet picture it.

Off to bed with me. I'm asleep at the wheel here. More next time on Las Vegas in the daytime.