LOOKING AHEAD TO THAILAND IN 2016

Now that this trip is getting closer, the butterflies in my stomach have been replaced by bats gnawing & scratching at my insides. I am dreading the airport aggravation alone! The flight is a lengthy one to put it mildly. I am flying for 18 hours on Arab Emirates Airlines to Dubai. A 3 hour layover awaits me; from there it’s another 6 hours to Bangkok. This will be an entire day & night each way.

Since I’m going alone and terrible with directions, I opted for an escorted tour just like in the old days. During my 20’s, I did all my world traveling this way. Sure, I invited friends and plenty showed interest. But when it came to placing a deposit with a travel agent, I heard all variety of excuses why they couldn’t do it that year.  And the next it was a similar story! I decided that if I didn’t go alone, I’d never get to travel at all.

Back in the 1970’s I was never concerned about my health. A heart attack or stroke seemed as remote as the constellation Cassiopeia.  Nowadays, it’s constantly in the back of my mind that my father suffered his first heart attack when he was 10 years younger. And my mother died when she was only 7 years older than I am now.

I’ve been ordered by the Dept. of Health to get up and walk every waking hour for at least 15 minutes to avoid blood clots. “They’ll be lots of people walking around on that flight!” the doctor told me.

“But there are NOT a lot of places to walk!” I replied. “That narrow isle will be so crammed; we’ll all be doing it in shifts!” Also I purchased a pair of compression stockings. I can feel the old lady cooties licking my toes, already!

I selected a tour that hits all my major cities of interest. I plan to make the most of my time doing lots of touristy things. But this primarily is an exploratory or what the politicians refer to as a fact finding trip. Too bad I don’t hold political office or I could stick the taxpayers with the tab!

 I may end up calling this country home at some point in time, even if I choose to expatriate to Ecuador.

 I’m looking forward to visiting Ayuthaya, the capitol of Old Siam. Also I’m taking a cruise in a long-tailed boat on the Meo Kok River to visit a hill tribe village in Chiang Rai. Plus I’ll be seeing the ancient towns of Chiang Sen & Wat Phra That Chedi Luang.  I’m traveling up to the famous Golden Triangle where Thailand, Burma, & Laos all merge, and then it’s on to Chaing Mai to visit the ancient capitol of the Lamma Kingdom.  There’s a Khantoke dinner with a show which should be exciting and memorable. Later it’s a visit to an elephant camp with a jungle tour. Actually, several jungle tours are included, (better get that prescription for Malaria pills) and another long-tailed boat ride on the Pai River in Bangkok. My first night there features a Thai dinner and a classic dance performance. Plus many more activities I’m not going to detail here and now.

I’ve got THREE flights within Thailand to get around to all of these places!

I told the travel agent I was disappointed that I would not be going to the White Temple in Chiang Rai. (This HAS to be the coolest temple on the planet, Google it!!!) She phoned back and said the White Temple would be included. I asked if the other people would be inconvenienced.

“This is a private tour,” she stated. “There are no others, you will have a personal guide & driver. It’s not unusual in that part of the world.”

I was speechless. For a second, I felt like a V.I.P.!  Then I remembered I was traveling Economy Class in a 17 inch seat. That bubble burst fast!

Also I’ve arranged to visit a Retirement Home operated by a British family. Residents live in condos with balconies along a snaking river with mountains in the background. The online photos are absolutely dreamy. – I’m not ready for anything like that yet!  However, that day may come.

Was I not planning to sell my house and move to the Third World, a trip such as this would be out of the question. Plus I’ve forgone many things I enjoy. I’ve pinched a lot of pennies & nickels to afford this trip. One of the reasons I’m expatriating is to be able to afford these things.

After I return, there are serious decisions I need to make.

THE FRUITCAKE STOPS HERE

There’s a lame joke that seems to have been around forever, the one claiming that only one fruitcake exists and it gets passed around to everyone. Many have declared it the worst gift possible! Frankly, I’ve never understood why.  This delectable dessert was once proclaimed sinfully decadent and outlawed in 18^th century Europe.

Of course as my father used to say, “There’s fruitcake and then there’s FRUITCAKE! Not all fruitcakes are created equal.

 In MY world there are 4 categories:

1:  Drug Store Fruitcake.  The kind that gives it the bad rep! It’s hard, dry, fructose flavored, & dotted with neon green citron.                                                                                    

2:  Supermarket Bakery Fruitcake.   OK tasting, but nothing special.                               

 3:  Gourmet Gift Catalogue Fruitcake.  These are the Cadillac of fruitcakes, delicious but far from cheap!

4:  Great Grandma Fruitcake.  The ones of myth and legend, they are the Sasquatch of fruitcakes because they are so rare. According to my father, his German-born Grandmother made the best tasting ones ever! These were so extraordinary nothing else came close!  -- I’ve never actually tasted one myself.

Fruitcake goes all the way back to the ancient Egyptians. It was placed on tombs as an offering to the dead. Perhaps this is how its flavorless rumor began.

In various forms, fruitcake has been around as long as civilization. It was during Roman times that this dessert became common in ring shape.

Ancient Roman fruitcakes consisted of pine nuts, pomegranate seeds, & barley mash. During Medieval times; spices, honey, & preserved fruit were added. Sugar by the cupful was added during the 16^th century. Later candied fruits from the Mediterranean were added along with a variety of nuts. It was the Victorians who added alcohol.

These days, a gift fruitcake is usually the awful Drug Store variety. However, these can easily be made palatable with just a little creativity. Just take a slice, place it in a bowl, add 2 tablespoons of brandy, rum, or amaretto, (any more than 2 tablespoons and there’s too much icky alcohol taste!) cover and microwave for 25 seconds. Then add a scoop of ice cream if desired.

Personally, I don’t like to waste money on alcohol, (unless you’re an alcoholic you won’t miss it) I spread honey or maple syrup on top &, add chopped nuts. Remember, fruitcake is dessert! A dab of chocolate fudge sauce & whipped cream also work.

The best fruitcake I’ve ever tasted was the Hawaiian variety with pineapple & macadamia nuts. Now I’ve never liked pineapple, but I loved it in this! Also I don’t like apples (even in apple pie) but the dried ones in fruitcake greatly enhance the taste. The catalogue kind needs no doctoring.

Fruitcake tastes best when served with tangerine flavored tea, apricot works well, too.

Our first Christmas after moving to Vero Beach I was consumed with fruitcake fever! I looked forward to one gracing our holiday table in our new home. Just days before, my father & I were at the supermarket. That year, they displayed a wide variety. I drooled over every one, trying to decide.

 “Wait until the day after Christmas,” my father urged, “they’ll practically be giving them away! We’ll have one New Year’s Day!”

Reluctantly, I agreed. We returned then, also to buy holiday ornaments cheap, as well. These were mostly picked over. As for fruitcakes, there wasn’t ONE left in the store! We went to another supermarket, NO FRUITCAKES! Out of desperation we went to a Drug Store, nary a ONE there either!!!

This Christmas I’m going to splurge on a catalogue fruitcake because it may be my last one in this house. I don’t know what’s available in the Third World. Having one shipped is pricey, I’m sure. If I have to give fruitcake up entirely, I’ll miss it.

So now I’ve got catalogues spread out before me. Hmmm, perhaps I’ll get the tasty Southern version with lots of pecans, walnuts, & cherries. But wait, I see a chocolate variety! No, hold on, there’s one with blueberries & walnuts I really want to try! -- STOP! I need to be strong; I must choose ONE and only ONE!

Oh, but when I take that first bite little faeries tickle the sides of my mouth with honeyed wands. Christmas elves skip merrily across my teeth as a parade of tiny dancers & acrobats twirl and leap upon my tongue tossing colorful candied streamers. Ahhhh, fruitcake tastes like Christmas with all of its wonders and delights, m-m-m. Yum! Yum! Yum!

A VISIT TO GRANDMA'S HOUSE

The holiday season is only a hair’s breath away. For many, this means visiting relatives. Mine lived far away in a distant state when I was growing up. Unless you live in Florida like me, summer is probably just a memory by now. Here, the temperatures were still in the mid to high 80’s until recently.

I only stayed at my grandmother’s house once, and that was enough! That June of 1958 school had ended just a week before. My mother & I boarded a late night flight for Detroit, where I was born. The guys (Dad, Grandpa, & my brother) remained in Hobe Sound in our rented cottage across from the mangroves. 

Many of our Northern relatives & friends had not seen me since I was a year old. Back in 1952 my family packed our 2 cars and set off for a new life in the Sunshine State.

Now I had just completed my first year of elementary school and I was a big Second Grader!  At least that’s how I viewed myself.

After 5 days at Aunt Kiki’s house, Mom & I planned to spend the remaining 5 at my grandmother’s place. This was the house where Mom and her 3 sisters had grown up. Grandma lived in a distant part of Detroit and it felt like a long drive.

On the way over, a sense of gloom swept over me. Perhaps it was all those stories about Grandma I’d heard from relatives. I always had the feeling her daughters cared for her more out of duty, than love. This was the only grandmother I had ever known.  My paternal grandmom died when my dad was 7 years old.

Grandma was a strict Pentecostal, (Holy Roller) she wouldn’t even allow a Christmas tree in the home because she considered it pagan.  My mother never had a meal inside a restaurant until after she was married. Dad used to say she was afraid to go inside one on dates!

My mother’s family was poor. They rented their upstairs and basement to boarders. The family was confined to the small downstairs area. A practice my Grandmother continued long after her husband died and her daughters married and moved out.

Once we entered Grandma’s neighborhood I could feel it in the air. All the houses were from another era. Had it not been for the traffic on the street, I could swear I’d gone back in time.

The inside of her home smelled like a crypt. Everything looked depressingly worn and outdated. It was a far cry from Aunt Kiki’s elegant and spacious house.

My grandma appeared deceptively frail. She was actually feisty and mean. I was her ONLY granddaughter, all the others were boys! Right away she didn’t like my blonde hair. My mother pointed out that it was growing in darker in the back and I probably wouldn’t stay blonde for long.

The only other natural blonde in our family was her daughter Kiki (the family slut) who caused Granny grief. Kiki married well, but later thought she could do better and lost everything. Kiki’s hair also darkened, but she bleached it back in her late teens, as did I.

We were introduced to the upstairs tenants, an older childless couple. Later, we met the renter in the basement, a Hispanic man in his early 30’s.

Next door on the right was a family of foreigners, from an Eastern European country. The daughter was a slim, pretty girl about 11 or maybe 12. She had black curls all over her head.  She seemed more of a young lady to me than a child. I watched her and her girlfriends on their front step from my Grandmother’s bay window. The other children in the house were younger boys.

Mom did all the grocery shopping during our visit. As I sat snacking on crackers Grandma leaned over. “Soda crackers dry up your blood,” she proclaimed. She swore a nurse told her this as fact!

I went outside to play. The back yard was tiny. There was nothing to do except eat the peeling lead paint chips off the old house.

I didn’t learn until a decade later this was injurious to my health! -- If they don’t want children eating lead paint chips why did they make them so damn tasty! Anyway, I hope they haven’t caused any long term effects. – Hey, at least they didn’t dry up my blood!

Family friends were constantly dropping over to marvel at how I had grown. Everyone vividly recalled the day I was born. I heard repeatedly how Mom had been rushed from a Beauty Salon to the Hospital. I came into the world in the early evening.  I’ve since heard this is the least likely time for a baby to be born.

After the last one left, I gave sigh of exhaustion and declared I was going outside. “And stay out!” my grandmother snapped. I was stunned, during this visit I had been on my best behavior.

Outside, I sat on the grass. I heard someone approaching from behind. I turned and gazed up into the beautiful smiling visage of the girl next door. She introduced herself and was quite friendly and pleasant. She thought my mother & I were new upstairs tenants. I explained that the old woman was my grandmother and I would be leaving on a plane for Florida, soon. She left shortly after I told her this.

Ironically, that evening, my mother reminded me how Grandma used to cut a switch from the cherry tree and whip her and her sisters over every minor infraction. She implied that I was actually seeing a mellower version of my grandmother.

Late the following afternoon, I was in the back yard as my mother packed to leave. I heard a loud scream and then another emanating from the house next door. The screaming turned to piercing shrieks. Those horrid sounds grew increasingly worse! It was THAT girl!!! I heard her cry out, “Stop!” several times followed by long, shrill wails. What were they doing to her!? What horrible act had she committed to deserve such a thing, or perhaps they were just horrible parents.

I wanted those awful sounds to stop!!! I wanted to help her, but I felt small and powerless. I couldn’t stand to hear it any longer! I went indoors.

 

I never mentioned it to either my mother or grandmother. I knew I would just be told, “It's not our concern" and to forget it. This is how people thought back then. To put this in modern terms, reacting negatively would have been considered judgmental.

Later, my uncle came and took us back to Kiki’s house. That night, we would catch our flight home.

After returning, my older friend Sharla came down from Stuart with her mom. I related this awful incident to her.

“Why didn’t you go over there and tell them to stop!” she snapped. Sharla glowered accusingly at me.

“I was afraid!” I exclaimed. “They might do to me what they were doing to her!” I thought Sharla was crazy for even asking me that!

 “Aw they couldn’t do anything to YOU!” she replied. “You weren’t their child! The worse they could have done was tell you to leave.”

Well I wasn’t so sure, just months before, I watched my otherwise kindly, old teacher paddle a boy until he cried before the entire class. And he wasn’t HER child, either! Plus this was far from a rare occurrence.

I was eager to see my other friend, Noreen. I thought she would understand! Neither of us got along with our mothers, we used to commiserate, this was our bond. But as soon as I confided that I didn’t like my grandmother and never wanted to see her again, I was flabbergasted by Noreen’s reaction.

“Shame on you!” she hollered. “Don’t you dare talk dirt about your grandmother!  Grandmothers are nice!!!”

“Not all of them!” I shouted back. We argued back and forth. She refused to listen. Finally, I just walked out. The incident was never brought up.

While Mom & I were up North, my father landed a great new job! In another week, we would be leaving Hobe Sound and moving back up the coast to Stuart.

I never said good-bye to Noreen. She is mostly forgotten, and so is Sharla, now. But after all these decades I remain saddened by the memory of the pretty girl with the black curls.

EMOTION FLAVORS & THE HORROR SHOW

American Horror Story has been one of my favorite TV shows ever since the premier. But I’ve found this season disappointing. My weekly stay at the Hotel Cortez feels unpleasant rather than interesting. There is gruesome violence aplenty, but few scares. It comes across as a bloody convoluted mess! I miss that delicious tingle of anticipation racing down my back!

Also I miss Jessica Lange! Sarah Paulson seems to be trying hard to channel her, but looks forced and fake. She comes across as a caricature. And beautiful Lily Rabe has always been one of my favorite characters no matter her role, except this one. I didn’t appreciate seeing her uglied up as Aileen Wuomos. I just wanted that character to go away.

In the past, it’s always been the female stars that shine brightest in this show.

This time around, we’ve got Lady Gaga as a vampire Countess. I’m a fan of her fun style of couture, but not her music. I’m not sure if the problem is her, the current theme, or both. But the Hotel Cortez is a stinking ruin that begs to be dynamited!

In the Nov. 11 episode, titled ROOM 33, the Countess describes love as tasting like rose water and betrayal as having that taste of char on meat. GADZOOKS, REALLY!!! Apparently this character has been a vampire so long she has forgotten what food actually tastes like! This is way off!

In a previous blog, I revealed that I have a disorder called synesthesia causing me to taste names. For example: Rachael tastes like barley porridge, Polly tastes like scones with jam, and Irene spiked cake. Perhaps for this reason, I believe I have a better sense of how emotions actually taste than this vampire character.

Betrayal tastes like vinegar. And the bawdy lust this character refers to as love, I should think would taste more like candy to her than rose water.

I would imagine pure (non-sexual) love, the kind you feel for your father, dearest friend, or dog would taste like honey butter. Friendship tastes like sweet citrus fruit or summer berries. Happiness is hazelnut coffee topped with whipped cream, cinnamon, & a peppermint stick.

 Below are more:

 Suspicion - raw onions

 Anger -wasabi sauce

Rage- Jalapeño peppers

Terror – brain freeze after ice cream.  If it’s the good kind of fear, you want another bite!

Repulsion- sour milk

This season of American Horror Story looked like a wickedly delicious casserole until I took a bite. Several ingredients are overdone, some don’t belong and others are past their expiration date. Somehow it’s still palatable, but just barely. And it leaves a bad taste in my mouth afterward.

THE KNEES HAVE IT

Not long ago, I came across an online article titled, THIGH BROWS. Out of pure curiosity I clicked it. Sorry I did! It must have been a sluggish news day. I discovered that thigh brows (the crease where your thighs & hips meet) are supposed to be nicely rounded. Yet another new standard for beauty! Featured were over-rated, bimbo celebrities in their bikinis, a Kardashian among them.

I ran to the mirror to check mine! Despite the fact I’m pushing 65, I’ll be vain till the day I die. I’ve always taken good care of myself. -- Well, not only do mine NOT arch, they have a deep downward slant. The kind you would find on evil Dragon Ladies & demons in graphic novels. – I’m a good person, I swear!

Then I looked at the photos again. I noticed those women had THUNDER THIGHS, especially the Kardashian. Well not me! I was always embarrassed in Gym Class by my slender boy thighs. A plastic surgeon I met at a festival told me he had patients who would kill to have mine! I suspect he was just being polite, but it made me feel good.

Plus I possess the much coveted thigh gap when my feet are together. Personally, I think legs WITHOUT this space are prettier and look more feminine. I’ve always thought of this gap as a defect. Guess I was just misfortunate enough to be young during the wrong decade.

Standards of beauty keep evolving and devolving, just look at history! In ancient Greece, women with thick waists were considered more desirable than those with narrow ones. During the 1800’s plump women with ant waists were the ideal. In George Washington’s time, you were lucky to be petite and now it’s tall etc, etc, etc!

Since I’m on the subject of body parts, don’t TOES count for anything? Mine are about as perfect as can be. And I’m not talking about just ONE or TWO, by golly, I mean all TEN!!! Plus I can even pick up coins with them. Yup, no brag just fact.

I shouldn’t continue, because by now, I’m sure most readers are so envious they probably want to garrote me. Well eat your heart out!!! Because I haven’t yet revealed the feature that makes my body truly SPECIAL!  It’s my KNEES! The dimples there form actual faces. And both look like Charles Durning. (I’m not kidding!) In the left one he’s grimacing. -- Hey, Charles Durning was an extraordinary actor!!! He appeared in over 200 movies, plays, & TV shows. SO THERE!!! Aware of this knowledge, I strut with pride… Jealous much!

TALES FROM THE CRYPTOVAULT

I was robbed!  But first I was infected.  It began as I was blithely engaged in a Google search, an alarm blared! Large writing appeared on my screen. My computer was in the process of being infected! It scared the living daylights out of me! I was given an 888 number to call. “WE’RE SERIOUS DIANNE,” it read.  And my computer was FROZEN!

Computers can’t be trusted, so I phoned my Tech man, Jake. He instructed me to shut down immediately from the back. Hopefully that would end the virus! A few days later, the same thing happened. We knew this was a serious problem and something had to done.

Jake removed 2 Trojan bugs and updated my anti-virus software.  I thought I was safe!!! This occurred around the end of June.

Early July 4, I logged on to work on my blog. To my horror and confusion, I found myself locked out! Several weird pages kept popping up. Since it was a holiday weekend, I was unable to reach Jake. The rest of my computer (Email & Facebook) worked fine, so I didn’t think it was that bad.

The following morning, I reached Jake. As soon as I mentioned CRYPTOVAULT, he instructed me to shut down immediately and keep my computer off until he arrived early the next day! Unknown to me, this virus is a particularly treacherous & sophisticated one. The worst of the worst!!!  I helped spread it just by using my computer. Now I was unable to access ANY of my files!

Jake cautioned not to get my hopes up.  He was pessimistic toward any retrieval. These are tales lost forever to the Cryptovault.

Frustratingly, my files still existed, but they were being held for ransom. For about $500 I might get them back. Jake advised against it. Even if I could spare the money, it’s never a good idea to pay ransomers. There are no guarantees; they are not the highest caliber of human beings.

“These are groups of thieves who rake in billions!” Jake told me.” They’ve hit banks and big corporations that just pay them. These low lives would be easy to catch,” he explained, “Just follow the money and then impose sanctions on the countries that fail to turn them over.  Yet our government does nothing!”

 “Why would they target a little potato like me?” I was curious to know.

“It’s random,” he said. “It may have come attached to something you shared on Facebook.” 

I’ve since learned that Cryptovault can’t be stopped by anti-virus software. This is truly unnerving!

Jake took my computer home to be flushed out.  I worked on the small laptop purchased for my trips. I asked what to do if Cryptovault struck while I was out of the country. “Don’t worry,” he said, “You have no files left to steal.”

Among my stolen files were 8 completed chapters of a new book, plus a lengthy draft of another, short articles & detailed story ideas, poems, & several completed future blogs yet to be posted. Painstaking, long, tedious hours of work were lost in an instant!!! 

If someone broke into my home and stole from me, at least I’d have recourse.  But when someone steals my intellectual property no option exists, at least not in this case!

When Jake returned with my desktop, there was positive news. The FBI had just busted a ring of cyber thieves! They were probably connected to Cryptovault in some way. -- However this came too late to help me.

As for my lost work, I’ve tried to re-create the book along with other stuff, but the passion just isn’t there, anymore. Could this be a sign from the universe. Everything in those files was from my soon-to-be old life, here. Perhaps now my focus should be directed elsewhere.

HIGH TECH WRECK

OK, so the IPhone that shoots photos didn’t work out for me. Even my Tech guy Jake couldn’t get it working right! He suggested that I return it for a refund and get a digital camera.

When I opened the box, I found another elf device. Just like the phone, it was tiny!  -- I don’t like small things, I like BIG things! My near-sighted vision is getting worse all the time. Plus the directions were confusing.

At the time, all of my files had been stolen by the Cryptovault virus! Jake had to take my desktop home to flush it out. He found a small laptop for me to take on my trips. I used this in the meantime.

Naturally I had issues with the camera! I scheduled an appointment with Jake to come and give me instructions that I could actually understand. As it turned out, my new camera came with no memory! The salesman neglected to tell me I needed to buy that extra.

In a few days, Jake would be leaving for vacation. He wouldn’t be back until after I had left for mine. He suggested I return to the store and make them put in the memory and instruct me how to use it.

I phoned the place and explained my situation. The lady at the other end seemed amused. I felt old and stupid. She told me they could install the memory, but the camera had to be activated from my computer. -- This is where we hit a wall with my phone, even after I let them talk with Jake and told them he was my son!  And still the phone issues were never resolved!

I returned the camera for a gift card. Exasperated, I went with Plan C and bought several disposable ones at Walgreens. The IPhone & digital camera were a poor fit for me and nothing but a headache.

As for the laptop, it fit nicely into my tote, but that’s about all. Of course I had problems with Wi-Fi! Even when I could get connected, I was unable to open any links. This was frustrating because I like keeping up with the news. Plus I felt like I was working on a child’s toy. I needed a rubber-tipped pen to operate it because my nails are naturally long. If I hadn’t wasted so much money, I’d either throw the damn thing away or use it a coaster for my teapot.

NOW, my office computer has a dying battery, if ignored, according to Google, my computer will develop dementia.  (Notice I said my computer, not me! And yes, I still hear that mysterious sound in the walls!) This device is already showing signs, such as the calendar date not changing and when I update, it doesn’t stick! (Actually this does kind’a sound like me.) Anyway, Jake is coming to my rescue with a new battery soon.

However during my trip, I must admit, it was quite nice NOT to be connected. I felt free!!!

I am thinking how wonderful just to be retired and keep only the minimum computer stuff, my Blog, Homepage & Email! I’d remove myself from both LinkedIn & Facebook. Certainly it would be less stressful.

Every time I get one of those notices on LinkedIn stating, “Dianne, people are looking at your profile.” My paranoia kicks in. I want to scream, “Why, what are they looking at? There’s nothing to see here, go away and just keep moving!” And I know this is the wrong reaction. Plus I am grateful for every single endorsement, HONEST!

The only reason I’m still on Facebook is because I enjoy the artwork, jokes, and of course the kitten videos! But I could be out making memories instead, doing better things with my time. Besides, 90% of my so-called “Friends” are strangers.

Most of my close friends aren’t that heavily into Facebook, they enjoy lives that involve doing actual things. All I really need to stay in touch is Email, even if I’m living on another continent. Also I wouldn’t mind snail-mailing.

I’m not against progress; I just don’t like it forced on me!!!