TRIPS, TRICKS, & TRAPS

Later this year, my friend Rose & I are going to Ecuador. I’m not giving the exact date because I don’t want to return and find my house robbed. We are flying out of Fort Lauderdale at 9:00 AM and must be at the airport 2 hours beforehand. Since it’s a 3 hour drive from Vero Beach, we’re leaving the day before.

We’ll only have to double up a few times and Fort Lauderdale is one. That night, after I wash for bed, I’ll probably reapply my make-up, get dressed, and sleep on my back, so I’ll be ready to roll when the alarm goes off. Because we want our free breakfast, too!

The plane ride to Quito, Ecuador is 4 hours.

Rose is also scouting out future Third World places to retire for herself & her husband. (In fact they got the idea from me.) However, being younger than I am, Rose won’t be ready for a few more years. Also she can afford to retire anyplace. My situation is more desperate.

We will be in Ecuador 10 days. Rose must return to work, plus that’s all I can afford to stay. Early in 2016 we’re going on an exploratory visit to Thailand and the airfare alone is astronomical!

The first half of our Ecuador trip will center on Cotacachi up the Andes. I’m seriously considering settling in this little town between the two (hopefully extinct) volcanoes. Also we’ll be visiting the larger neighboring municipalities of Ibarra & Otavalo. I am going to see Realtors and learn what is available in my price range for rent. Plus we’ll check out the supermarkets & big box stores to note the prices. And we plan to seek out Expats to gain more info.

The second part of our trip is pure vacation! We are flying to the Galapagos Islands! -- The last real vacation I had was in 1980, not counting my 2009 trip to Epcot with my absolute last ever boyfriend. So I feel entitled to a one. Plus this is a genuine bucket list experience!

We are seeing the Galapagos Islands as Ecuadorans, not tourists. We’ll be flying from Guayaquil to Puerto Ayora on the isle of Santa Cruz. This entire island is a large dormant volcano situated in the center of the archipelago. From there, we’ll tour the surrounding islands.

I’ve been advised to dress down as not to attract thieves. This will be a challenge for me! I prefer to look put together, rather than merely dressed. But tourists are always a target! I am no stranger to this.

The first time I stepped off a plane in Mexico City I was with my dad and future step-mother, Avis. The year was 1974 and I was 23. We were on a semi-escorted tour, meaning we traveled to different cities as a group to a specific hotel, but were on our own upon arrival.

Outside the airport, the night air was cool and taxi cabs seemed to be lined up for miles blending with the bright lights of the city. Our driver took us to a hotel displaying a different name than the one given. We declared it was the WRONG hotel! He insisted otherwise! This guy not only spoke fluent English, he had no Hispanic accent whatsoever! – He was probably born & raised in Chicago!

We figured that perhaps the hotel had changed hands and our itinerary was not updated. After entering the lobby we started to panic. None of our group was there despite departing at the same time. Dad showed our itinerary to the desk clerk. He glanced at it, before shoving a key in his hand and signaling a bellhop.

The following morning as Avis & I dressed, my father went for a walk. Our designated hotel was several blocks around the corner! Dad returned and complained to the desk clerks. They denied any responsibility because of a different staff the night before, meanwhile they wanted payment for the night we spent.

The rest of our trip went smoothly until we stepped off the bus in Acapulco and into a taxi. A young guy about my age jumped into the cab beside me. He claimed he had been appointed our tour guide and rode to the hotel with us.

He waited down in the lobby while we checked into our room. We were already suspicious, but we learned upstairs that no one else in our group had been assigned a personal tour guide.

As we returned to the lobby, the so-called guide rushed up and said he was sorry, he’s made a mistake. He pointed across the room to another family and stated he was actually THEIR guide! However, he claimed to have paid our cab fare and now wanted reimbursement. My father distinctly remembered paying it and had no intention of doing so twice! The guy said OK, shrugged and walked over to the other people.

Upon returning home, we reported these incidents to our travel agent. She filed a complaint with the tour. Two years later, we returned to Mexico City. This time, a shuttle picked us up from the airport and drove us to our hotel.

My trips alone were all fully escorted. Any problems that arose were promptly handled by a professional tour guide.

Rose & I will be traveling completely on our own. Should anything go wrong, we won’t have any travel agent or tour operator to call to for help. However, Rose happens to be a frequent traveler, plus a savvy, strong, & resilient lady. I would not feel comfortable embarking on a trip like this with anyone else by my side.

While doing research, I learned that one should carry only a few dollars at all times. This way, if you are mugged, you don’t lose much. And just to consider it local color, plus a story to tell the folks back home. Hot cat pee! I find a statement like that disturbing! I consider a folk festival to be local color, NOT a mugging!!! We plan to bring pepper spray if allowed.

I love the fact that in Vero Beach I can go almost anywhere in broad daylight dressed nice and not worry about someone shoving a gun or knife in my face. -- Although I’ve been robbed here many times at the point of a pen!

Anyway, my flashy duds and spiked heels will remain in Florida. I bought some mom-jeans, baggy tops, & flat heels for the trip. I just hope that I won’t still have to dress that way should Ecuador become my future home.

When I expatriate, I’ll be doing it alone. That’s when the adventure ends and the nightmare begins!

Whether or not I decide to move there, I’m sure it will be 10 days in South America we’ll never forget!

GAZE DEEP INTO MY CLEAVAGE

Not many others know this, but I can hypnotize them. Of course when I reveal it, I hear comments such as, “Nooo get away from me!” or “Don’t you dare!” – A bunch of chickens, I say. And fear not, I won’t make you honk like a goose or crawl on your belly like a worm. – Unless you tick me off!

At age 30 I suddenly found myself unemployed and unemployable, I decided to try and create my own job. I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for hypnotherapy classes; become a professional in a lucrative field, it read.

The instructor was a blonde woman I’ll call “Allison” who looked to be in her early 40’s. She was highly educated, but emotionally she behaved around age 15.

I was bombarded with many highly personal questions. “I’m a professional therapist,” She’d say. Allison was intrigued that I’d traveled all over Europe and many exotic places, yet I didn’t know how to drive and I’d never been out on a date.

Back then, asexuality was non-existent. I myself thought I must be gay and the right lesbian just hadn’t come along.

Allison insisted that I needed therapy along with the lessons. “Don’t you want to be normal?” she kept asking.  

NORMAL IS SUBJECTIVE!

It’s a good thing that I never confided any of my special talents: I taste flavors in names, see colors & personalities in numbers, plus hidden images in every design. Allison was already freaked out by me as it was! 

Plus she happened to be one of those women who can’t imagine NOT being in a relationship. “I live to love and be loved,” she was fond of saying, “And I want you to experience the wonder and ecstasy of that feeling.”  

In other words, she wanted me to be as emotionally needy as herself. (Not everyone requires someone to love them.) And worse, she thought homosexuals were really heterosexuals who had gone astray and needed to be straightened out. – Even in 1981 I knew better!

Often, I was ready to walk out, for a variety of reasons.

Plus each session was used as an opportunity to discuss herself; not problems, but bragging along with embarrassing personal details. Such as: other women were jealous of her athletic body, her wealthy ex-husband adored her, but was unable to satisfy her in bed, her first job was with a dentist who offered her a new sports car if she’s have sex with him on the waiting room sofa. Also she discussed an affair with a married man. And now she was dating a prominent man in town and they had oral sex that morning.

I complained that I didn’t care to hear any of that! She was stunned. “I’m sharing,” she explained, “You should consider yourself fortunate; most therapists refuse to do that.” – Probably because it’s UNPROFESSIONAL!!!

I found her exasperating and draining. I tolerated this only for the second half of our sessions, the actual hypnotherapy lessons. -- Although I felt she had pulled a bait & switch on me. I had NOT come to her for therapy in the first place!

However, I happened to be experiencing a major personal trauma at the time! (I could have used an actual professional who listened.) My mother had just learned of my dad’s mistress in West Palm Beach and was making my life holy hell because I refused to betray my father. Also Mom kept threatening to go down to W.P.B. and chop out the woman’s vagina with an axe!

Although I wasn’t really worried, since my mother didn’t drive (like me) due to anxiety attacks; I knew she would have problems carrying an axe aboard a Greyhound Bus.

Hypnosis was useless in dealing with my anxiety attacks as far as driving was concerned. I don’t want to become relaxed behind the wheel. That tension keeps me alert! I don’t want to lose it.

A later therapist told me that most fears were irrational and to remember, “No one has a machine gun trained on you.” I argued that I had several tons of steel coming at me at high speeds. My fear was valid! I didn’t want to be crushed, drowned or burned alive, or have my intestines strewn over the highway. Nor did I want some paramedic scrapping me off the dashboard or retrieving my severed head from the back seat!

But I didn’t get to touch on any of this with Allison because she was always too busy discussing her sex life.

Allison shared a small building with an attorney. At the time, he was enduring a messy divorce. Around Christmas, his wife came in, toddler in tow and created a scene by throwing an ugly tantrum. Afterward, the attorney came into Allison’s office and apologized to me for having to witness that.

After he left, Allison leaned over, “He told me he thinks you are so beautiful. How you would like to date him? He’d be perfect for you! I can arrange it.” She smiled.

“No thank you!” I snapped, “I don’t want to be in the middle of that mess!” I was already at my wit’s end trying to deal with my parent’s issues! I didn’t need anyone else’s baggage! We argued back and forth.

She also tried to set me up with other guys.

Later, Allison put together an evening class instructing women how to increase their breast size via hypnosis. She wanted ME to teach it! I thought it sounded shady. Plus I was UNLICENSED to hypnotize anyone professionally! Allison said that didn’t matter, I possessed the skill.

But I knew there were 2 obvious reasons why she wanted me  teaching this class. And I would have been misrepresenting myself, my twins are natural beauties that required no outside help. And I wasn’t about to mislead and take advantage of these sad, flat-chested women. Also Hypnosis is something that must be constantly reinforced. Even if it worked, should these women ever backslide, their breasts would shrink.

I had a bad gut feeling and refused. Allison turned hostile.

Shortly after, I got a job thru CETA and happily ended my sessions with her.

I continued to practice autohypnosis (self-hypnosis) to control stress. Usually, I’d fall immediately into a deep sleep. Often, I experienced vivid Technicolor dreams in 3-D! I’ve even had flashbacks to previous incarnations!

After Ronald Reagan became president, CETA jobs were kaput! By then, the law had changed. The practice of hypnotherapy was now limited to medical professionals. I had no desire to go into that field.

But I paid attention during the lessons and I remember everything I learned.

THE WEEKEND SANDWICH & MORE

Daylight Savings Time is upon us again. Ugh! Since the powers that be are intent on altering time & space, why stop there!

If you are among the handful of people who actually read my blog, you know that I want 2 extra days sandwiched between Saturday & Sunday. These would be called Marsday & Starsday. Who says the calendar has to have 7 days a week, why not 9, or even 10!

Hmm, because returning to work on Monday is hard, I say let’s add yet another day to the weekend! We’ll name it Plutday, after Pluto! The week would flow like this: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Marsday, Starsday, Sunday, & Plutday.

This way, we’d have 5 days of freedom as well as 5 days of work. In other words, exactly the way it should be! Plus we could all keep our current age a bit longer. To anyone over the age of 15, this is a good thing.

Since each month would now have 12 extra days, I’ve also re-configured the zodiac & astrology. I don’t like to brag. (Well actually I do!)But my version is far more accurate! See below:

 

JANUARY – The ORACLE 

TRAITS: sage, diplomatic, & too nice to people who are undeserving 

BEST CAREERS: ruler, councilor, philosopher, writer

________

FEBRUARY -- The SATYR 

TRAITS: sensual, fun-loving, playful, ruled by hormones & bad judgment 

BEST CAREERS: actor, musician, bartender, artist, gigolo/gold-digger, panhandler

________

MARCH – The CYCLOPS 

TRAITS: stubborn, controlling, narrow minded, brash, surly 

BEST CAREERS: Corporate CEO, mugger, movie director, pig farmer, butcher

________

APRIL – The NYMPH 

TRAITS: graceful, attractive, stylish, flirtatious, superficial   

BEST CAREERS: model, dancer, personal secretary, stripper, porn star, hooker

________

MAY – The FLYING MONKEY 

TRAITS: temperamental, egotistical, perverse, tends to attract lice 

BEST CAREERS: Cable TV comedian, tour guide, pornographer, hairdresser

________

JUNE – The GNOME 

TRAITS: passive-aggressive, practical joker, sneaky, sticky fingers 

BEST CAREERS: jockey, poultry farmer, shoe-shiner, crawlspace-cleaner, pickpocket

________

JULY – The MERMAID 

TRAITS: charming, charismatic, slippery morals  

BEST CAREERS: recording artist, dishwasher, barnacle scraper, trapeze artist, telephone sex worker

________

AUGUST – The HARPY 

TRAITS: persistent, steadfast, annoying, loud 

BEST CAREERS: schoolteacher, salesperson, Realtor, lobbyist, telemarketer, newspaper delivery

________

SEPTEMBER – The ZOMBIE 

TRAITS: slow, determined, single-minded, poor hygiene 

BEST CAREERS: postal worker, movie usher, waiter/waitress, ditch/grave digger, line cook, street sweeper, rodeo clown

________

OCTOBER – The GORGON 

TRAITS: solitary, mysterious, calculating, sneaky, unpredictable  

BEST CAREERS: sculptor, reptile wrangler, financial advisor, telephone psychic, high school principal

________

NOVEMBER – The TROLL 

TRAITS: cagey, aggressive, underhanded, public nose picker  

BEST CAREERS: politician, lawyer, bookie, loan shark, drug dealer

________

DECEMBER – The SNOW GHOST 

TRAITS: quiet, intense, icy disposition 

BEST CAREERS: security guard, refrigerator repair person, envelope-stuffer, shoplifter, dominatrix

 ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As one born under the sign of the wise and practical, (The ORACLE) I say the above should be implemented, IMMEDIATELY and then get rid of Daylight Savings Time forever! Because that is just folly!

WHAT REMAINS

My father’s ashes still sit on the fireplace. He has tried numerous ways to contact me from beyond.  I’d rather be left alone. I was too unhappy for too long when he was alive. He once told me in a dream that he wanted this house back.

His ashes remain in that plain brown plastic box given to me by the crematorium. I could never decide where to scatter them. However, they are not coming with me!

I’ll probably scatter them in the back yard after I decide my next move. That way, if I’m living on another continent, Dad will still be here. Hopefully, the new owners will maintain this house to his standards.

I thought of burying him back there, but the newbies may put in a pool or some elaborate landscaping. However, I still have a bit of time remaining, before then.

Not long ago, Dear Abby featured a column about cremation. I cut it out for my brother. But I haven’t mailed it. I know he’ll get a kick out of reading it! Jerry is a former mortician, a job for which he was well suited. It was the living who gave him grief. For one thing, it unnerved his fellow undertakers that he’d forgo gloves and stick his bare hands deep into the cadaver when inserting the trocar. My brother insisted he was unable to feel the proper spot wearing gloves!

He often spoke of how peaceful and happy the dead appeared. –Well NOT our parents! Unlike him, I saw their faces directly after death. Both appeared in agony, their heads twisted upward to one side with the mouth open.

We are cremation people, with the exception of my mother who insisted upon being buried. Our Pentecostal relatives on her side of the family are horrified by it.

According to the article, many who choose cremation are claustrophobic. Well this fits me to a T!!! If a carjacker ever tried to force me into a trunk, I’d make him shoot me, first! Of course I’d feel likewise if he tried to set me on fire!

It shouldn’t matter what happens to your remains as long as you’re 100 per cent dead! But for some reason it does. There’s a ditty from my childhood I’ve never forgotten. That little song goes like this:

Did you ever see a hearse go by

And think some day you’re going to die

The worms crawl in

The worms crawl out

In your stomach and out your mouth

It’s the thought of tiny, crawly things feasting on my remains that really gives me the heebie-jeebies! That along with being donated to medical science! I’ve heard of medical students playing tic-tac-toe on the cadavers. – Well NOT mine!

It would also bother me is to end up in a mass grave with a bunch of strangers! I don’t want other people’s bones touching mine! I’ve never been a people person. If over population continues, cemeteries will be dug up and the land put to better use, such as planting food. I’ve blogged about this before.

Many dread the possibility that their bones could be dug up by future archaeologists and put on display. Personally, I’d consider that an honor! Geez, I’d be proud!

Still I’m going the cremation route. I am revising my Will to have my ashes scattered in the new country in which I’ll be residing. And forget any boo hoo funeral! I want only laughter and a celebration of my life!

TIS A MYSTERY

After I decide upon a country in which to expatriate, I don’t want to drag a lot of things with me. I’m sure the shipping costs will be high; so I’m selling as much as possible. Besides, I’ll need the money to help finance my new life.

I’ve already sold everything of real value to pay for repairs to my house. However, it has gotten to the point that I can no longer keep up. If I brought in another person to share my living space and expenses, I could probably stay. But given that choice, I’d rather move.

When my friend Margaret used to visit, she was a delight for about 3 days. After that, I wanted her gone and she wanted to leave.

Recently, I gathered up surplus clothes (all classic styles) and took them to a consignment shop.

Everything was rejected! They only accepted designer labels; NOT Sears, Metrostyle, or J.C. Penny! – The only time I’ve ever worn designer clothes is when purchased at a Thrift Store. And that was before they started charging extra for those.

These were beautiful things, all in perfect condition! I’ve always been fussy about what I wear. Strangers of all ages often stop to compliment my style and inquire where I shop.

Everything had been neatly folded inside a huge cardboard box, it was humiliating to see it tossed back like trash after being rejected.

Also inside was a pair of earrings in a blue, cloth-covered box. These were given to me 30 some years ago from a friend who took a job in another state. Someone brought them back for her from Beirut, only she never wore earrings. I thanked her and accepted them, although they were not my taste. So they remained in the back of a drawer for several decades. 

The lady at the consignment place took a special interest in these. They were probably worth something, she said. However, they couldn’t start an account for just one item.

So I took my big, cumbersome box out to the car and locked it. I had spent most of the morning at the courthouse applying for a new passport. I was dressed in a tailored jacket & skirt that day.

Earlier, I’d eaten little breakfast, I was hungry. So I went inside the French bakery/cafe next door. While I was placing my order a man came in. I heard him leave as I seated myself.

The clerk came to my table. “Did you know that man?” he asked.

My mouth full of food, I shook my head.

“He was staring at you the entire time. When I asked if I could be of service, he became uncomfortable and left.” Then added, “Be careful when you leave, there are weirdos out there.”

Thankfully, no suspicious characters were loitering about when I left.

The following afternoon, I remembered the items in my car. I went into my (enclosed) garage and brought the box inside, just to remove those earrings. Well they were gone!!! I tore that box apart searching for them.

I phoned the consignment shop to inquire if I’d left them behind. The lady remembered me and my items. She insisted she put them back inside the big cardboard box. -- I don’t remember seeing her do it, but then I wasn’t watching her that closely. I haven’t always been a good judge of character, but she didn’t come across as the type who would steal.

Now I wonder about that man! Perhaps they fell while I was lugging that big box out to my car. Maybe he picked them up and followed me to return them, but changed his mind.

All I know for sure is that the earrings have vanished!!!

MY FIRST DATE EVER

I was 40 years old when I had my first date. No, this is not about when I tasted the fruit. I’m more of a mango gal, anyway. I was age 40 when I went out on a date for the first time.

That’s right I said 40! And it was just a movie & dinner only, no sex stuff! Even in 2015 most people can’t wrap their mind around an asexual. It’s tantamount to saying you’re from Pluto! Just imagine what it was like in past decades.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m taking another sprint down memory lane. This is blog is equal parts therapy and memoir, so I’m hanging it all out there.

I don’t watch romantic films or read bodice ripping romance novels. I’ve tried, but I’ve never found them interesting.

For years, I thought surely I must be gay. Yet, at the same time I knew I wasn’t.

During my youth and travels abroad, I was hit on by guys who tried to pick me up. But I refused to be picked up like garbage. It didn’t take a gypsy witch to see their intentions were less than honorable. Plus I never considered dating important.

Those who do, come across as emotionally needy to me. What is it with you people, do you think you’re going to wither up and die unless someone loves you? Why does your value as a human being depend on someone else?

I doubt I was ever loved by anyone my entire life! Except perhaps my dogs & cats, and that was only because I fed them and gave them belly & butt rubs. Lord knows, my parents weren’t into unconditional love. And I know brother is waiting for me to keel over, so he can have unfettered access to his Trust. Perhaps this is a good thing; I learned early that I don’t need someone to validate me in order to be happy.

If you still can’t fathom an asexual, just think of me as gay or frigid as most people do, whatever! I don’t care!

Back to 1991, my date was a double arranged by a neighbor couple of similar age. I agreed to it because I wanted a diversion from my step-mother’s madness for just one evening.

They said he was good-looking and probably told him likewise about me. In my case, they weren’t lying! We both were introverts. It’s a mistake to set up two people of that nature. Worse, he had that compulsion (common in most men) to undermine the woman. Whenever he spoke to me, I was usually cut down in underhanded ways. I wasn’t having it! He was just another goony guy to me. I began directing my focus upon the other couple.

After the movie, we went to an upscale restaurant and were seated on the back deck overlooking the ocean. This March night was comfortably cool. The brilliant full moon appeared huge above the crashing waves below. This beautiful evening would have been a wonderful memory had this fellow had not been along.

The following day, I phoned the couple to thank them. -- My date happened to be there in the room! They asked if I wanted to speak to him. I told them, I did not.

Seriously, I never expected or cared to go on another date for the rest of my life!!!

A year later, I met a man at a party down the river. He was the first of two men who picked me to be his next wife the second after we met. We dated for several months. He even sent me roses on Valentine’s Day. However, I wanted nothing beyond a friendship. You can’t force feelings you don’t have and I wasn’t going to pretend.

The couple who took me on my first date separated two years afterward. (Later they divorced.) After their separation, the husband phoned me for a date. The first time, I refused! After learning that his wife had moved on, I agreed. We went on ONE date and that was enough!

When I hit my 50’s, there were more dates and even a few boyfriends. All of those relationships felt forced and quickly became suffocating. I was living behind a mask and it was draining. When they ended, suddenly I was happier! I was set free!

NEVER have I felt that way around my close female friends! One of them suggested I place an ad in the personals to find a man compatible.

I wanted to specify in the advertisement that I was looking an impotent man, only! She said no guy would ever want to admit to that. I told her I couldn’t understand why, because if I was a man it wouldn’t bother me. Then she talked me out of placing the ad.

Now that I’m finally out as asexual, I am finished with dating, forever! Now I am free to embrace being myself, at long last.

THE TELEPHONE MOAN & GROAN

If you dislike crabbing, bitching, and whining from an old woman, STOP READING RIGHT NOW!!!

I have a land-line, only. Any day the phone doesn’t ring I consider a rare special one. Sometimes unknown callers phone me 7 times a day and into the evening. Someone always seems desperate to reach me, yet never enough to leave a message on my answering machine.

Most of these unknown callers are shady, anyway. Why else would they conceal their number from me?

I remember well one call I received. Some woman informed me that according to their records, I qualified for a lower mortgage rate. “What records?” I replied. My house never had a mortgage! It was purchased outright.

After seeing the movie WOLF OF WALLSTREET, I remembered another call back in the 80’s. My father received it from one of the wolf’s toads, perhaps even the main turd, himself. Dad was on the phone for what seemed 45 minutes repeatedly stating, “No, I’m really don’t care to do that!” Afterward, he complained, “I couldn’t get rid of that guy! He kept insisting this was an investment that I couldn’t pass up. I must beg, borrow, or steal, whatever it took to jump on this!”

“Why didn’t you just hang up?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” he replied.

I guess I am NOT a nice person! I have no compunction about slamming the receiver into a telemarketer’s ear! – THEY ARE RUDE for invading my personal space and wasting my time. I am a firm believer in boundaries!

On occasion, I would have fun with them. Whenever someone asked for Mrs. Lininger, I’d reply in my meekest voice, “Did you say MRS. Lininger?” Usually, I’d get a condescending, “Yes, I said MRS. Lininger!” Then I’d cackle my most evil laugh, followed by, ”Get a Ouija board or crystal ball! Both MRS. Liningers have been maggot meat for years!"

Nowadays, I just let my answering machine take all the calls because my friends usually email.

Once, I actually got a message from my dead father!!! I recognized his voice, all he said was, “Hi Dianne.” I listened to it over and over. (It was disturbing.) Eventually, I decided to erase it. I’ve moved on with my life.

A few months back, I lost my connection again. I became suspicious when my home suddenly became more serene. The phone was dead, period! I tried to report it to ATT online, but went around in circles without success.

I was forced to bother a neighbor. All she had was a cell phone. The lady walked back with me in the event of over-the-phone instructions.

Our neighborhood has terrible cell reception! We had to scout my back yard in search of the perfect spot to get a signal. -- This did not make me want to run out and purchase a cell phone anytime soon! Geez, I don’t want to run out back every time I need to make a call! This is NOT progress, it’s a step backward.

I’ve often wondered why the neighbor kitty-corner from me always stands at the end of his driveway talking on his phone. Now I know! That is so sad.

Eventually, we got a signal. She told me to remember that particular spot between the Oleander & the palm tree.

The menu came up; press this, press that, followed by a seemingly endless wait. After what seemed an eternity, I was transferred to Connecticut; a live person informed me that ATT did not service land-lines in that state.

I stated that I lived in FLORIDA!!! My neighbor interrupted to remind me that she & her husband were snowbirds from Connecticut. -- But I’d given ATT my account number early on!

Now it was back to the starting gate and the entire lengthy drawn-out process. I stated immediately that I was using my neighbor’s phone because mine was kaput. -- And still I kept ending up in Connecticut!!! My neighbor even tried with the same result.

After an entire wasted morning, finally success! A repairman was sent out within an hour. He was the indoor guy. Shortly after, the outdoor repairman showed up. After he finished, he told me to check my phone. – It was full of static. The first guy was called for further instructions.

Before he left, I inquired as to why I was almost forced to jump thru flaming hoops, just to report a problem. He said that was their number 1 complaint. However, he assured I wouldn’t have to experience that in the future. He wrote down his number and that of the previous repairman. “We’re local,” he said.

Fast forward a month, the static returned! It was so bad, the other party and I could barely hear one another. I phoned both repairmen, neither returned my calls!!!

For my upcoming exploratory trips to Ecuador & Thailand, friends have suggested I get a pre-paid cell phone with a camera, instead of dragging along several disposable cameras as I had planned. I might break-down and do that. Ugh! We’ll see.