THE INEVITABLE & MYSTERIOUS UNKNOWN

Yesterday I attended a complementary luncheon, this one sponsored by a funeral home. Of course I went! This was a free meal at a country club. Several years back, I attended one sponsored by a cremation society.

What happens after death? I find myself thinking more & more about this as I grow older. As I'm fond of saying, I'm now 67 and one year closer to Heaven. What is Heaven? I've heard it's whatever you want it to be. If that's true, my dead relatives will be elsewhere! I've had encounters with ghosts and also some downright inexplicable experiences so I'm inclined to believe there's something after.

Reincarnation makes sense to me. However I don't want to return to this planet, it's Jerk World! I'd rather come back as an amoeba on another one. During autohypnosis I saw briefly a past incarnation, my death as part of the Roman war machine. I was part of a small group separated from the others. We were ambushed and outnumbered in a shallow stream under a steep, sheer cliff only a few feet higher than my 30ft cathedral ceiling. The barbarians wore helmets trimmed with fur. Quickly surrounded, we were overcome! While frantically engaged in a fight, a warrior came splashing thru the water and slashed me across my lower back with his sword! I swung around and fell face first into the stream! But I didn't die of my wound; I drown in the bloody water.

This revelation explained an issue that's plagued me since childhood. I loved to swim, but I'd freak out just thinking about my head under water. Eventually, I overcame this phobia. However, I'm still uncomfortable with it.

But what if this vision and all of my inexplicable experiences are a brain glitch and nothing but mere illusion? What if this life is ALL there is. Why is that a bad thing??? During surgeries I recall the feeling, or rather the lack of it, no dreams during my unconscious,  as if I simply ceased to exist. If that's what death is, I don't have a problem with it. If I could remain eternally young in good health with an endless stream of wealth, I'd want to live forever. But that's not reality! I've enjoyed wonderful times and endured horrible ones, I can accept finality.

Actually, I'm far more frightened and worried about advancing age and illness than I am of death!!! Even a brief hospital stay would ruin me financially.

Most believe that you are automatically entitled to receive Medicare once you hit age 65. That's untrue! If you are ineligible for Social Security you are also ineligible for Medicare. I am proof! -- And don't tell me to get a job unless you are offering me one. And I mean one that pays a living wage!

A few have suggested a GoFundMe page when the need arises. However I am someone many people cannot relate to, much less sympathize. Most would probably be happy to see me die. -- And I'm spitting on each of you in my head!!!

We live in a screwed-up pseudo religious society where owning an assault rifle is a God-given right, but affordable healthcare is a privilege and often a luxury. And this is only one issue!

The previous complementary luncheon I attended just weeks before was sponsored by a retirement home. The speaker was good and she made the place sound fabulous. If an appliance breaks, you just phone maintenance. They will not even allow you to change a light bulb by yourself! Best of all, should a hurricane appear on the horizon, no cause for worry, you do nothing. It's someone else's problem! Plus there are 5 restaurants to choose from and one meal per day (your choice) is included. As for medical care, no problem!  All of this for only one check per month.

Whenever someone inquired about price, we were informed it all depended on the dwelling of your choice; pricing was listed in a brochure on the back table. And we were assured this place was the most reasonable around.

I picked up one of those brochures. The most inexpensive dwelling there, a small studio apartment the size of a hotel room, (no porch or veranda) cost $500 more a month than I pull in! That does not include the purchase price! If I sold my 2-story house that I love with room to roam and a private back yard I might be able to afford it. However, I'd better take an enormous purse to that one daily meal because I'd have no money left for groceries, or anything else.  At least the retirement home I visited in Thailand included all meals.    

Also I find people to be draining. I don't like to socialize with groups, much less live with them! I would feel like an inmate confined to that tiny apartment. NO THANK YOU! If I had the amount required to live there, it would be unnecessary! I could be enjoying life way better right here.

Everyone who sees me cannot believe I'm as old as I am. I want to keep it that way.

I've switched to a healthier diet and I'm doing everything in my power to preserve my health. I'm not trying to live forever, I can't afford to! I just don't want to die in a hospital! Nor do I want to be one of those senior citizens with a kitchen counter or medicine cabinet full of over-priced drugs. Perhaps everything I'm doing will never be enough, heredity is a major factor. But when the time comes, I'm determined to leave this world on my own terms.

YOUNG & FREE

Decades ago before all the concrete & traffic, and before half the state of New York moved here to ruin it, Florida was paradise! Gorgeous tropical wilderness was everywhere! I was raised a free-range child. Everyone was back then and exploring is what we did.

Whenever outdoors, whether it was with friends or alone my parents never knew where I was at any given moment. In First Grade while living on the Intracoastal Waterway in Hobe Sound, I often walked blocks to friend's homes without informing my parents. All my folks cared about was whether or not I showed up on time for meals.

From Hobe Sound, my family moved to the 100 acre place on the Port Salerno border. Here, there were no neighbors within socializing distance, just beautiful eye-filling nature that felt like heaven. Every inch of it was explored either on horseback or on foot.

At age 9 under protest, I moved with my family to our new home within the city limits. Our house overlooked the St. Lucie River. We enjoyed a magnificent view from the back because we were on a steep hill. Visitors would gasp and their jaws would drop at the sight. However, I would have given it up in a heartbeat to go back to those seemingly endless acres of beautiful green wilderness and the lake we left behind. The beauty of that place was serene with no people noise.

The new house was a bad fit for me right from the start. Also life for my family seemed to quickly unravel there. But some of my memories at the beginning are good ones.

We had a 150 ft. dock with a boathouse at the end to the right. On top was a sundeck where we'd take the binoculars. The river was a mile across plus we could see for miles each way. And we brought the radio up there, too. We'd dance to the music! Back then the twist was popular. (They were probably doing it in Siberia!) Thank goodness it was easy to do.

My friends and I swam in the river too and often drifted far from home.

Just to the right of our dock near the shore was a clam bed. During the season I'd wade out and feel them under my bare feet. I'd toss them into my bucket and for days after I'd have fried clams or clam chowder for dinner. I loved it! 

Alone, I frequently took long scenic walks down the shoreline. I watched herds of manatees swimming down the river. Sadly they became fewer and fewer with the passing years until they disappeared altogether. And there were dolphins too! I'd stroll behind all manner of homes. And more than a few times found myself behind the hotel where Natalie Wood honeymooned the first time she and Robert Wagner married.

Once, after a storm I discovered a raft with a long pole & oar washed up on shore. I paddled way out on the river and for long miles. Life moved slower then with plenty of time to savor it.

Just as frequently, I walked to what is now referred to as the Historic Downtown District. A theatre was there and Saturday movie matinees were only 25 cents. Often, I'd stop at the Drug Store for a scrumptious ice cream soda. These were 25 cents also.

Later, when I was in the 11 and 12 age group friends would stay over. On summer evenings we'd walk to town and have dinner at the Drug Store counter; usually hot dogs, fries, & a coke. Then we'd catch the 7:00 PM movie. Afterward, we'd walk home by ourselves in the dark. We were never afraid.

During friend's overnight visits we stayed in our guesthouse across the carport. After my grandfather's death it became vacant. Later, at age 39 I moved over there after Dad re-married. As a kid it was the perfect place for entertaining. We could stay up late as we wanted. Often we'd act out everything we saw in the movie adding our own plot twists and alternate ending. We reveled in pure clean fun and it was glorious!

Children both small and tweens enjoyed far more freedom from parental supervision back then. I can recall only one harrowing incident while being out and about. This happened when I was age 10.

My friend Shelly who was a year older, received a bike for her birthday. She took me for a ride. I sat on the back. We had wheels now and intended to do some major exploring far from home. She peddled into a neighborhood neither of us had ever seen before. Inside an open garage were a group of boys ranging in age from 7 to 15. They were gathered around a motorcycle.

As Shelly pedaled past, a huge vicious German Sheppard came tearing out after us barking and growling! --That dog belonged to one of those boys; you'd think someone would have called it back! Instead, all just looked on with intrigue as if they'd paid tickets for a show! Quickly the dog caught up with the bike! It grabbed my skirt within its snarling teeth. I jerked it free as Shelly pedaled fast away.

I was shaken, but relieved it was only my skirt and not my leg! But usually my friends & I were safe.

Unbeknownst to my parents, to make extra spending money, friends and I would go door-to-door selling oranges, grapefruit, & kumquats from our trees in the yard. We'd start on the next street over and work our way into town. Citrus fruit in Florida was as common as Italian restaurants in Italy. Yet sometimes we got lucky. A nice man once bought our entire bag for a dollar! He led us into his kitchen where he handed us the money.

In retrospect, I see how risky this was. However back then, most adults were considered above reproach and trusted. Now, I can see how this would enable a sicko to take advantage. We just happened to be fortunate. Eventually, a neighbor told my folks and we were ordered to stop. But our fun remained unabated.

Summer days were splendorous and overflowing with joy! Never did I want them to end! Freedom filled the air like perfume.   

Everything changed dramatically with the start of a new school year. There was absolutely nothing pleasant about school, at least not the one where I spent the majority of my attendance.  

I remember my childhood times vividly. Technology had yet to commandeer every aspect of our lives. I may as well have grown up on another planet in comparison to the kids now. And I'm grateful for that!

STUFF THE BERET, I WANT THE BUFFET

I will be the first to admit that I'm a seriously uncool person by society's standards. For one thing, I have never followed popular music. Unless the electricity is out for more than 6 hours, or its Christmas, I never listen to the radio except in my car. I prefer quiet inside my home.

Lately, whenever I go anywhere, anytime, the 1980's song by Prince, Raspberry Beret always seems to be playing on my car radio. It's a happy upbeat tune so I don't turn down the volume as I do many others. Frankly, the oldies station is just too current for my taste.

I love folk songs! Almost everything else sounds like noise to me. And by folk songs, I mean those from centuries past before they were mutated into that hideous country whine & twang by the Appalachian hillbillies.  

As to the song Raspberry Beret, I can only make out a few of the lyrics. For a long while, I thought Prince was singing Raspberry Buffet!!! Which is another reason I enjoyed it, this conjured up wondrous toothsome images of raspberry cake, raspberry torte, raspberry truffle, raspberry scones, raspberry turnovers, raspberry cupcakes, raspberry muffins, raspberry parfaits, raspberry mousse, raspberry cookies, raspberry ice cream; a glorious buffet of all things raspberry!!! All of it washed down with tangy raspberry tea! Not to mention raspberry combined with dark chocolate is a taste straight out of heaven!

Yes, I did get the Second Hand Store part. However there is a high end consignment place down in Fort Pierce that holds an open house with an elaborate buffet around the holidays. My friend, Marie & I have attended several times and we didn't need to eat dinner afterward.

This shop has many beautiful and interesting items. I've made several purchases there, but so far no berets, not at this one anyway. And I happen to own a varied assortment of these, but no raspberry one! The closest is a light pink, the color of a creamy raspberry mousse. The kind you make by adding Raspberry Jello mix to whipped topping and blending. Chill and place fresh raspberries on top along with dark chocolate shavings and people will be impressed. I guarantee it!

Most of my berets are of the style with a large nipple on top; one has a long feather on the side. Two have a knit flower there, those I purchased at Claire's in the mall. The really classy-looking one with the buttons on the side I bought from Frederick's of Hollywood. (No one can believe it's their product!) And I have a black one with a bow on the side that looks almost identical to the one Monica Lewinsky made infamous. Only I bought mine at a consignment place several years before.

The last time I wore this one, I was coming out of the mall as a man was coming in. He gave me a wink! My reaction was eeeewww! I hope he doesn't think I'm anything like THAT woman!

But whenever I wear any of my berets, I seem to attract a lot of attention from men. Guys seem to get excited by these little hats, especially men from a certain generation, but others too as attested by the song.

About 15 years ago, I had just paid for a meal at Applebee's. As I headed for the door a young waiter (not mine) hurried over and opened it for me. "You are such a beautiful lady, thank you for coming in," he said. I was taken back with surprise, but flattered! However I do believe that giant nipple coming out of the side of my head probably gave me a certain air of je ne sais quoi.

Another time I was standing in line at Walmart wearing my black nipple beret & black boots along with a gray jumper & white turtleneck. The man in front turned and told me, "Looking at you, I feel like I'm back in France."

With a flourish of my hand I replied in a phony French accent, "In my heart, I am a European woman." I don't think he knew how to respond, he said nothing. But the clerk cackled!

I thought back to my late 20's when I was visiting Paris. I happened to be seated at a cafe when along came a group of Japanese tourists and they started snapping photos of me. No, I wasn't wearing a beret. But my blonde hair was jaw length that year.

Here in Florida, 10 months of summer isn't unusual anymore thanks to global warming. So my berets are stuffed in the back of a closet now, they're more of a cool weather accessory. Nowadays, I'm usually in wide-brimmed hats and big sunglasses, better for enduring the blazing sun and the sweltering heat & humidity.

However, last winter we were blessed with chilly weather. Mostly, I was homebound. I'm not complaining, it felt like playing hooky.

Spring is here and for breakfast this morning I enjoyed fresh raspberries. I sing loudly and off-key my own words to the Prince song: "Raspberry Buffet! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

MY HEART WAS SURE NOT IN ART

My friend, Marie is blessed with the gift. Gracing her home are gorgeous pieces of art that she created herself. Marie could have her own show! She is THAT good! Unfortunately, she does not believe this. I've tried repeatedly to persuade her to at least join Facebook and post her work. But she has no interest in computers. Marie would rather be out living her life than starring at a screen. This is another thing I admire about her despite the fact I've become one of those pitiful screen people. 

I love and enjoy art. I’m a highly visual person; I gravitate to things with eye appeal. Sadly, I have zero talent in this area, myself.

But art is subjective; something doesn’t have to be good to be considered art. I’ve seen artwork in galleries and for sale at an exorbitant price that look as if created by a drunken monkey and some fool will probably pay that price. This aside, even bad art can be interesting, everyone sees the world thru their individual filter and have their own interpretation.

I have always believed it's highly possible humans were created by DNA tampering and interbreeding with space aliens. But when I see photos of those Nazca lines in Peru, I can’t help but wonder how a society with a far advanced technology could ever produce such amateur looking art!

Frequently, people ask if I'm an artist. I have that look, they say. Writers are considered artists, because we too, create from our head. And it's an art to write a 30 to 60 second commercial, then get up and perform live before an audience as I’ve done at networking luncheons. Believe me as an introvert, I’ve had to take flying leaps outside my comfort zone to do that! But honestly, if I could choose my talent, I’d prefer drawing or sculpting.

After I published my 1^st book, strangers asked, “Have you written anything else?” I found this insulting! Had I displayed a painting, no one would have asked, “Have you painted anything else?”

As a child, I never liked coloring books! They made me feel as if I was completing someone else’s work. I’d rather be given a blank piece of paper and create something of my own even if it was crappy or else go outside and play with rocks and spiders.

But there is no denying Marie's talent! Every October when she returns to Florida Marie enrolls in another Art Class. She's a natural and enjoys it, probably the top student every year!

Knowing from an early age that I had no skill in this area, I signed up for Art Class in the 9^th Grade just because I thought it would be a fun and easy credit.  – Was I ever wrong!

Most of the other students were no-talents like me, (a few were in denial about this) with maybe 3 genuinely gifted ones. The teacher possessed what most consider a strong personality. This squat man was loud, demanding, and swaggered when he walked. He was the type who made others want to either kiss his arse, spank it, or shove a firecracker between his butt cheeks and light it. I was in the latter category.

I think of art as something open with freedom of expression. Unlike writing, there are no rules and only guidelines, that's what I thought, anyway! Instead, there were lots of rules we were forced to follow. Mr. Loudswagger was a stickler about that! Some made no sense to me at all.

One in particular that bugged me the most: A drawing must start at the bottom of a canvas and work upward. He repeated this constantly! Well, I preferred to begin in the center and work around. And this is how I did it! Since our teacher liked to sit on his backside while we worked, I usually got away with it.

Then one spring day our class strolled to the park only a block away to sketch the statue there. It featured a curvy woman in a clingy garment. Grapes sprouted from her head instead of hair. She stood balancing a jug of wine on her shoulder with another spilling from her hip. This statue had been imported from Italy and was considered quite risqué in our (then) small coastal town. It has since been moved to the Historic Downtown area.

I seated myself comfortably on the grass. I began sketching in the middle as usual. Suddenly, I felt a yardstick on the back of my hand holding it down. A looming shadow overwhelmed my canvas. Yikes! It was Mr. Loudswagger!

"What have I been telling you for months!” he bellowed. “Always start at the bottom! Haven’t you been listening?!”

“OK,” I said nervously. Quickly, I pulled my hand away and moved my pencil to the bottom. He cleared his throat in disgust. I watched him swagger away. Then I went right back to drawing in the middle! This was MY work of art after all!!!

I passed the class with a C. The other no-talents all got B’s, but only the gifted ones received A’s. I had no desire to sign up for another Art Class ever again. I was clearly unsuited for it. Another issue, it was too messy for me! Despite wearing a smock, it was not unusual to show up for the following class with paint dotting my arms, face, or in my hair. However if you possess the aptitude and passion, I guess this is a minor thing.

I decided I'd rather just admire the work of those with talent.

BIG DARK GLASSES & MAPLE-FLAVORED SYRUP

Recently, I watched a movie The Space Between Us on my DVR. After the teenager born and raised on Mars came to Earth he was issued big dark sunglasses that covered his brows and both sides of his eyes. I laughed out loud at the sight of them! They were exactly like the ones I wore after my cataract surgeries.

The teen soon exchanged them with a street person for a cooler pair. However I was forced to wear mine for what seemed like forever! I'd spot other people wearing those same glasses when I was out & about. We'd smile and nod at one another as if we were members of some esoteric club. In a way we were, almost as if we came from Mars.

In the movie, the teen asked whomever he encountered: "What's your favorite thing about Earth?" For ME, it's the food! -- But you already know that, don't you?

Well hot cat pee!!! Not long ago I received a shock that nearly shattered me to my core!!!

One of my favorite flavors is maple! I actually prefer maple fudge to chocolate! And maple is not only delicious, it's healthy!

According to science, maple syrup protects brain cells from Alzheimer's. The cells are prevented from fibrillating or clumping and the maple keeps the beta-amyloid from sticking or tangling. -- I am NOT making this up!

Unfortunately, I have aged into the danger zone. My two best friends in the world, Margaret & Pat were lost to this disease as was my step-mother. Alzheimer's does not run in my family, but I still worry. I don't want to be seen naked as a jay bird stumbling over my sprinklers on my way to the mailbox one day!

So I bought a bottle of maple syrup for my spiraled butternut squash. However I noticed the syrup had a peculiar after taste. I grabbed the bottle and read the ingredients. To my horror, there was NO MAPLE listed! It was mostly corn syrup & fructose. This was only MAPLE-FLAVORED syrup!

On my next trip to the grocery store armed with reading glasses, I checked out the syrups. All the popular brands, (even the one I grew up enjoying over pancakes on Sunday mornings) as well as the others around them contained NO MAPLE whatsoever! Whoa! I was nothing short of traumatized. This must be how a little kid feels when they learn there is no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, or Tooth Fairy! How can I ever believe or trust anyone ever again!!!

Several advertised NO FRUCTOSE in big letters, but there was NO MAPLE either! They were mostly CORN SYRUP and just MAPLE-FLAVORED!

Sure, PURE maple syrup was on a higher shelf; however, it was more than double the price. I purchased a small bottle.

I've come up with a healthy, or rather healthier dessert. I sparingly pour pure maple syrup on plain or frozen yogurt, top with lots of walnuts, (antioxidants, cancer fighting properties & heart healthy) then I liberally sprinkle on cinnamon (rich with antioxidants).

But man-o-man, I still love and long for maple fudge! But to my dire shock and horror, I recently discovered that the main ingredients are brown sugar with maple-flavoring. There is absolutely NO MAPLE in maple fudge, either! 

Earth sucks!!!

THE NOT SO EMERALD ISLE OF ERIN

The year was 1976 America was celebrating its bicentennial.  I was 25 years old.

I had been to Canada, the Bahamas, Mexico, & Guatemala (none of which required a passport back then) with family members; but now I hungered to go abroad. Friends expressed interest right up until it came time to make firm plans. Then I heard every imaginable excuse why they couldn't go and the following year it was the same. Exasperated, I declared that I was going alone!

One Sunday in July my father spotted an ad in the travel section of the newspaper; a 10 day trip to Ireland for $650! This included airfare, a full Irish breakfast every morning, plus a celebratory dinner inside an Irish castle! Even by 1970's standards this was a bargain!!! And it was out of Miami. Plus the tour would be taking me to County Tipperary where my paternal Grandmother was born. This was Grandmother I never knew.

The next day at lunch we drove to a travel agent in West Palm Beach where our family business was located. The agent researched the tour and stated it was legit. She booked me for the second to last week in September. This was to be the first of many tours abroad for me and Stella became my regular travel agent.

Now, all I needed a passport! The cost was only $15 then. I actually loved my photo! I had long, wavy blonde hair & wore my cameo choker, a typical 1970's look.

All summer long, a soap commercial played their ditty on TV. With a spritely lilt it sang, "Get away from summer escape to Irish Spring!" This always made me smile.

When I shared my exciting news, most replied, "Is that a good idea? There's a civil war going on there between the Protestants and the Catholics. People are getting shot and blown up!" I explained that this was occurring only in a small section in the north. The greater part of Ireland was peaceful, although they seemed not to believe me.

My flight departed during the wee hours of the morning, around 2:45 AM. My father drove me down. It was a near 3 hour drive from our home in Stuart to Miami, plus I had to be at the airport 2 hours before take-off. I'm not a night person and I was eager to board the plane and sleep.

I was assigned a wretched middle seat crammed between 2 strangers. Despite the discomfort, I managed to doze, but was awakened shortly as snacks were being served. This was the last thing I wanted!

An hour before landing, the airline crew walked up & down the aisles singing, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. Passengers were encouraged to sing along.

After arriving at Shannon Airport we were greeted with big mugs of Irish coffee. I had Irish coffee before and didn't like it, it has too much alcohol. I was the only one who declined it.

After collecting our luggage, we were directed to a small room which quickly became over crowded. Here, 6 or 7 different guides stood with a list of names over each. Everyone bumped into each other looking for theirs. The entire airplane had been filled with only Florida residents for this tour. On later escorted trips, I learned this is rare; usually you're among people from all over the U.S. and even other countries.

My guide was named Paddy. He gave me the number of his bus. Soon after seating myself a slender woman around 45 came and sat down beside me. She was Anna from Delray Beach. We became fast friends.

After everyone was seated, Paddy announced the hotel was overbooked and some of us needed to unboard and remain at the airport hotel. But not to worry, he'd be picking up everyone later for the welcome feast at Bunratty Castle. Anna & I held my breaths; usually it's us singles who get it in the neck. But not this time! Paddy called out the names of 3 couples. One of the men was livid and red-faced with anger. He unleashed a barrage of profanities in Paddy's face. The tour guide appeared shaken as he re-entered the bus. I felt badly for him.

Neither the guide nor driver knew where Florida was located on the map. This surprised me, because Florida has a distinctive shape; it's America's penis, or gun, depending on your frame of mind. I was astonished to learn that tourism is as big an industry in Ireland as it is in Florida.

In 1976 Ireland was experiencing the worst drought in 200 years. It was not as green as advertised and this was disappointing.

I was surprised to find 4 big double beds in my room! Then I remembered this was a Catholic country and families are large.

A few hours later, our group was driven to Bunratty Castle for an evening of entertainment. The guide explained that everything at the feast would be exactly as during medieval times, only knives would be given with our meal.

The castle was torch lit and displayed long rows of tables. The entertainers were our wait staff. The star of the show was a beautiful blonde girl around my age. She walked up and asked me to sit at her table. I felt honored.

Soup was served. We lifted the bowls to our lips. I don't remember what was served next, but it was all finger-friendly food, no mashed potatoes or peas, etc... Then we were treated to a musical & dance history of Ireland. This was my first experience with dinner theatre.

The following day we toured the city of Limerick and then south into picturesque countryside with quaint thatched cottages and churches made of field stone. We passed thru the village of Adare. On the River Feale we stopped at Abbeyfeale.

This was the beginning of an irksome habit! Half our group headed straight for the bar. Always, the tour guide encountered problems getting them out and extra bathroom stops were required later. After which they would head straight into another bar! Always, we were late arriving at our destinations! Due to this, many optional tours available thru our hotels were missed. I complained to the guide!

"You have to understand, dear," he said. "This is something special to them."

I told him we have plenty of bars in America! And I didn't know if I'd ever be returning to Ireland but I was missing things I wanted to see and do; activities that were truly special, all because of them! He shrugged and said he was sorry. Thankfully, on future trips I was assigned guides with backbones who insisted we stick to our schedule.

We were supposed to arrive in Killarney in the afternoon, but thanks to the drunkards it was well after dark. I had planned to book a jaunting car (horse-drawn buggy) to tour the lakes & castles, but now it was too late and I was pissed! This was something I had been looking forward to. I had to settle for the bus tour the following morning.

From there, we toured the Ring of Kerry. This was a succession of panoramic views composing of lakes and mountains that took my breath away. Despite the drought Killarney was gorgeous! Its lakes, rolling hills, and centuries old castles appeared to be straight out of a fairytale. 

Then we drove thru Cahiriciveen on Doulous Bay. Valentia Island is just off the mouth of the Bay. Named by the Spaniards this was a hub of trading and smuggling for centuries. From there, we went to Waterville. The fields, streams, and rural beauty truly made it a sportsman's paradise.

The following day, we were off to Cork City to kiss the Blarney Stone! This was a major highlight of the trip! Two years before I saw a travelogue showing tourists doing this. I have a fear of heights and told myself I would NEVER do that, but I DID!!!

At Blarney Castle the narrow winding staircase leading up to the famous stone was actually scarier! There was no railing on the one side with a steep drop below as a constant stream of people moved in both directions.

As to the Blarney Stone itself, a big man holds your ankles down as you're lowered backwards to kiss the rock, and it's a long, long way down beneath. However, I was near-sighted back then and after removing my prescription sunglasses all I saw was a green blur below.

There are iron bars in the event the guy loses his grip, however those are far down as well! You could still crack your skull!

Kissing the stone is supposed to give one the gift of eloquence. I joked afterward that I was no longer inarticulate. I began thinking about the saliva from people all over the world and wondered if the stone was ever hosed down with soap.

The next day in keeping with spit-covered rocks, we left Killarney and viewed the monastic remains of the Rock of Cashel where according to legend, the devil spat. This was County Tipperary, the birth place of my paternal Grandmother! All of us clapped loudly as we bellowed out a rousing rendition of, It's A Long Way To Tipperary! For me, this was another highlight and now a sacred memory.

From there, it was on to Kilkenny situated on the banks of the River Nore. Afterward we stopped in Kildare the center of horse breeding & training at the Western edge of the Curragh Plain. This was a busy marketing town.

It's the donkeys that I remember most in Ireland! We were up early every morning and it was common to see milk delivered by donkey cart. In fact, throughout Ireland, people with donkeys were everywhere.

Now it was off to Dublin! Ireland's capital is a fascinating city. Its history is steeped in both tragedy and glory which I was soon to discover. The tour guide had us all singing, Molly Malone! "In Dublin's fair city where the old maids are pretty," --Those are MY lyrics anyway!

Dublin is filled with wonderful 18th century Georgian architecture, lovely squares, parks, and wide streets. We toured the Joyce Museum. Afterward, we went to Trinity College to see the famous Book of Kells and the National Library. Also we saw the old Parliament House, (now the Bank of Ireland) Dublin Castle and St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Our afternoon was free! My seatmate Anna & I went exploring together. I remember seeing a large African woman in colorful tribal garb looking magnificently incongruous amidst the Celtic atmosphere as she strolled proudly down the sidewalk.  Anna & I bought souvenirs, postcards, & gifts. Later, we encountered a group of young Italian guys who flirted with me.

Anna & I stopped at a small cafe for lunch. I was surprised and delighted to find pizza on the menu! I ordered a small, individual, anchovy one. (Hey, I love anchovies, deal with it!) But there was only ONE long anchovy in the middle, period! However the pizza was tasty. In fact it was the most delicious thing I ate during the entire trip. Irish food is terrible! I am no fan of their cuisine.

I along with everyone else signed up for an optional event at the Jury's Hotel that evening. It consisted of dinner, classic Irish entertainment and more. We enjoyed Irish fiddlers, dancers, & lots of pretty girls singing. But the star was a comedian and master of Irish humor. (His last name was Roach just like the bug!) This guy was downright side-splittingly hilarious! And it was all clean humor, too.

For the finale, all the performers took the stage to sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic in honor of America's bicentennial. The crowd consisting entirely of Americans gave them a standing ovation.

The following day we left Dublin. As we set off across the breadth of the Irish countryside we passed thru scenic towns amidst castle ruins and sleepy little villages. 

We stopped in Athlone, capital of the Midlands on the River Shannon. Later we toured Connemara. As with Killarney, it was gorgeous despite the drought. Connemara is one of the most wild and beautiful areas of Ireland. The lakes and mountains are glorious and breathtaking. We traveled thru Clifden a seaside town and capital of Connemara. There, I bought myself a bracelet of Connemara marble.

Next it was on to Galway! Throughout the trip, the guide was constantly having us break into Irish songs and clap along. A little of this went a long way! As we approached Galway, he had everyone singing Galway Bay. The song that starts: "If you ever go across the sea to Ireland, etc, la, la, la."

We stayed the night there. Our hotel was directly across from Galway Bay. From the lobby a long dock was visible. Land stretched under the entire length of it and beyond. This looked rather sad. My room overlooked a cow pasture. Despite the drought, the scene was bucolic and pretty.

On the city tour of Galway, a group of us ladies lingered in town attempting to find a reasonably priced meal. Dinners in all our hotels all started at $8 which was expensive by 70's standards. (Nowadays most places want that much just for dessert!) However, all we found were bars on every corner serving sandwiches and we were hungry for a full dinner. Locals directed us to a restaurant, but it was closed! We ended up taking a cab back to our hotel.

But I was delighted to have breakfast served in my room every morning. This was true throughout the entire British Isles as well.

After leaving Galway we drove thru the Burren country with its bare limestone hills. They cover about 50 square miles. We stopped in Lisdoonvarna noted as the matchmaker town for people who wish to marry. (I was eager to leave for that reason.) Then it was off to view the majestic Cliffs of Moher which extend along the coast of County Clare. They rise sheer above the sea to nearly 700 ft. -- It was the photo of these cliffs in the newspaper ad that actually sold me on this trip. And yes, they were impressive! Before reaching them we passed wide haunting Irish moors. 

Our final destination was Ennis, the chief town of the county. From there, it was back to Shannon Airport before our flight home. I recall I did some serious duty free shopping there.

At Miami International, my father and future step-mother were waiting for me. Anna & I smiled fondly at one another and waved good-bye. We would never see each other again.

Shortly after, I complained to my travel agent, Stella that our guide was negligent in adhering to the schedule forcing me to miss optional excursions. Several weeks later, I received a $50 check from the tour company. I would have preferred going on those excursions!

In 1976 Ireland was at least 30 years or more behind the United States. Even in Dublin, milk was still being delivered by donkey cart. Whenever I mentioned this, often I heard exclamations of, "Oh I would love that! I want to move there!"

And I'd tell them, "No you wouldn't after you discover all the things you'll be giving up." This is a lesson I had to re-learn when I looked into expatriating.

Many people who have been to Ireland more recently tell me it has changed quite a bit. But I'm glad I visited when I did, despite the drought and the drunks. I saw Ireland as it used to be and that's something to treasure.

HANDS OFF, I'VE GOT THIS!

I'm a fickle shopper and I'm sure most people fall into this category. Where I shop depends on wherever I find the best deal. I follow the grocery ads & specials in the newspaper. I'm not in the habit of going to the same supermarket every week. And many personal and kitchen items I buy at the Dollar Store.

However around the corner is a major supermarket and naturally it's my go-to place when I need an item or two in a pinch. It's not unusual for an employee to approach me and ask, "Are you Ok? We haven't seen you in here for awhile!"

I smile and tell them the Winn-Dixie down the street has been having better specials lately. Usually the prices are better on fresh fruit & vegetables there. However this store carries more frozen items I like, but the Walmart bakery beats them both when it comes to dessert.

The close store however, is the only remaining one that offers to wheel your groceries to your car and load them for you. I'll admit I'm a fussy, opinionated person who likes everything done a certain way. Naturally, this seldom makes me likable.

I enjoy grocery shopping and I like this store. But I resent having to argue with the baggers about going to my car with me. I just prefer doing it myself, period!

"Hey that's what we're here for!" one told me, recently.

"But I do it perfectly!" I replied.

From the expression on his face, I could see that every time I entered from that point forward he'd be shaking his head and thinking,"Egads! There's Miz I-do-it-perfectly, again!"

The last time I let a bagger do it was about 6 or 7 years ago. The cap on a big bottle of juice came loose and leaked all over the back of my station wagon. An emergency trip to a car wash was required to have the inside of my car shampooed. But it still smelled like blueberries for weeks after. I'm thankful it wasn't a bottle of bleach! Also I've had cakes overturn on the drive home!

After the juice incident, I decided that no bagger would ever be loading my groceries ever again! This was a job strictly for Dianne.

I have my own system now. My old car is a hatchback which I love. If I'm ever carjacked, I know I'll never have to worry being locked in the trunk! -- Shot or stabbed perhaps, but at least there's no place to hide the body.

Moving right along, here's the way I load groceries into my car. I suggest you take notes, because I do it PERFECTLY! 

Below is my system:

Cakes & pastries along with ice cream, & frozen seafood go on the floor behind the driver's side. Everything else goes in the back. All liquids I place upright inside a large plastic laundry basket with remaining groceries packed firmly around them.

I wish baggers were this careful, but they're not!

The majority of baggers seem to be men over 50 with a few under 20. Whenever I tell one, "I've got this!" Instead of trying to persuade me otherwise, I wish they would just go help the invalid in the next aisle, or the 90 year old two aisles over.

In the most recent case, the bagger was a geezer around my age. Unlike me, he looked the part! The guy grabbed my cart suddenly just as I was exiting the store. As I unlocked my hatchback I told him he could go, I'd take it from there. But he remained insistent!

"I really prefer doing it myself," I told him again, raising my voice.

"And if anything spills you'll be responsible, too!" he snapped.

I gave him a hard stare. "Sir, that NEVER happens when I do it!" I stated firmly. "Because I do it perfectly!" (In other words, I do it better than you.) SO THERE!!! Get lost.