Vegas 2

Day 2 in Vegas was great. Sunshine and 70 during the day, cooler in the evening but still lovely. Laura and I had a fun day yesterday shopping, eating, losing small amounts in the slot machines and walking ever so long distances between each venue, the streets packed with tourists and sidewalk vendors hoping to make a quick sale. Everything here is about spending (and maybe winning) money and the fake facades, baubles and tacky souvenirs are well, just Vegas. It's all good fun.

Sunday's highlight was Le Reve (the Dream) at the Wynn Resort last evening. The tickets weren't cheap but the show was unlike anything we've ever seen with seating is in the round and a pool as the focal point. Acrobatics, gymnastics, and dramatic special effects left us spellbound for 90 minutes. The creator, Franco Dravone and resort owner Steve Wynn, named the show after the Picasso painting (shown here)entitled Le Reve, a piece that Mr Wynn actually owns (lucky him).

Vegas is a marvel; we feel far away and living an unencumbered existence. Our own version of Le Reve, a dream and a very, very good one.

Vegas 1

It's almost 11 AM in Vegas; the clocks sprung forward last night so it feels like 10 AM. I've been up for awhile but am letting Ms. Laura catch up on some zzzzzs since she is exhausted after mid-term week and as usual, burning the candle at both ends. I'm writing from the hotel room, pumped up on my 4 dollar caffeine fix (just a plain ole drip coffee from Starbucks in the lobby of Planet Hollywood; prices are really ramped up in this town) and planning out what we'll do today. The weather is great; 70's in the daytime, sunny but very breezy. This is a lovely change from Seattle.

We had a good day yesterday; an easy flight and check in to our hotel on the infamous Las Vegas Strip. My only other trip to Vegas was over 20 years ago; I really wasn't prepared for all the changes. The oddest thing is the enormity of the hotel complexes. Problem is; they are so large and visible that they appear to be rather close together. Not. What looks like a short walk could be well over a mile.

Last night we had tickets to Blue Man Group at 7 PM and found ourselves cut short on time; not just a little but a lot. The Vegas Strip monorail (I thought) would be a good idea and save us time but was a disaster, putting us out in an obscure parking lot at least a quarter mile from the Venetian, the venue for the event with less than 5 minutes to show time. Picture us running (and me on my bum knee) through the crowds in the maze of the casino at Harrah's, finally navigating outside to the strip, and in Laura's language, "booking it" to the Venetian, dodging slow moving pedestrians and cursing under our breath. We made it with no time to spare, took our seats with adrenaline surging and sweat seeping but it was all worth it. This show was a winner even if it took us thirty minutes to calm down and settle into the evening.

Tonight we have tickets to La Reve and we will be more thoughtful in our planning, especially since Laura plans to wear 3 inch heels to the show.

Idiocy

Ramping up for my parent's move out of Merrill Gardens points out (again) just how difficult it is to change one's address. I remember when moving from one place to another involved a few phone calls, a few change of address cards but it was quick, easy, and over. Of course, I haven't moved since 1991. But, I have been involved with Mom and Dad moving; first from their home to MG eighteen months ago and now enmeshed in planning another move in two weeks.

The last time they moved, it was a full six months before all the addresses were changed on bank accounts, investment accounts, credit cards, Medicare/Aetna/Medco accounts and the like. We were so caught up in the physical moving that the details like change of address got lost in the packing, unpacking and transitioning into a new life.

This time I decided to start early. Magazines are easy; no one really cares and on-line address changes are just fine for subscriptions although you must have those annoying little, flaky strips off the magazine to identify your account number or the name "exactly as it appears" on the account. Newspapers are a little harder. The worst nightmare comes with financial institutions, the government, phone service, or healthcare. As Mom and Dad are incapable of navigating through the morass of phone trees, operators who speak quickly, garble their words and use terms even I don't understand, the family must step in and make the calls for them.

Today I was on the phone with Verizon to set up phone service. Oy. I have to identify myself as "Doris" otherwise I will get nowhere. The problem is, I refuse to change my voice and when they ask for date of birth, they KNOW that I am not Doris. The Verizon guy caught me in the act this morning when I spouted out 1917, he put 2 and 2 together (duh) and then asked me:

"Are you Doris?" I could have lied but I had to confess.
"No, I am not Doris but Doris can't do this; she is 90 years old, I am her daughter and please, pretty please, give me a break".
"Is Doris with you? You could put her on the line to verify that it is OK for you to handle her order."
"No, I'm not with her."
"Are you power of attorney?", he inquires.
"Oh, yes". Now we are getting somewhere; he's going to "get it". Not.
"Well, you'll need to fax me that document...." (I cut him off at that point)
"Oh, shit", I say, "why can't you guys cut me the tiniest bit of slack. Doris cannot handle this; I'm just trying to set up her new phone service at the retirement community. I'm doing a good deed as a devoted daughter."
"I recognize that Ma'am but we have to look out for fraud."
"Yeah, I guess you caught me; she's 90, I'm 53. I guess I don't sound like I'm 90."
He laughs (thank God for humor) remarking, "Nope, you're not a 1917 baby."
Asswipe, I think.
"Here, let me give you the direct line for you to use when you call again from Doris's current residence to set up the phone service. I can help you directly".

The phone number is long distance and I'll have to pay for the pleasure. Do you have any idea how long it takes them to arrange a phone line? Ridiculous.

Note to self: cultivate a wavery, confused, old-lady voice. Gotta have it in addition to the SSN, mother's maiden name, date of birth, and the last time you took a crap (they want all this information, I promise you).

March Madness

We are well into the month of March and I've wished more than once that I could go to sleep and wake up on April 1st. Even though there are some fun events coming up, there is just too much action. I call it my version of "March Madness", NCAA Men's Basketball Championships aside.

Some of the events converging on the month of March 2008 include but are not limited to:

1. Three different "Spring Break weeks" for the three students in my life (all at different times of course)

a. a four day trip to Las Vegas with Laura

b. Chris's solo trip to Arizona to visit a friend

c. Denny's week off and our plans to spend three days/nights at a lovely place on on Whidbey Island

2. Mom and Dad's big move out of Merrill Gardens; orientation to a brand new living situation and all the stress that comes with organizing and making this happen. I have forgotten how many people/institutions/magazines etc need to know the new address and phone number. And so much of the time, I have to pretend to be my Mom since these pinheads refuse to talk to anyone other than the "subscriber" of the service. Don't they get it that older people are often unable to navigate through endless phone trees and other idiocies of our modern day? I barely make it through the morass and aggravation. And so, I just become Doris complete with SSN and get the job done. My voice doesn't sound 91 and I think there are suspicions at the other end of the phone line but screw it. If I know the answers to key questions like her mother's maiden name, I'm "in".

3. MM and John's most essential trips to Seattle to facilitate this move (THANK YOU)

4. My knee surgery (so I'll be "good as new" to train for the TRI)

5. Dad's facial plastic surgery next week

6. Easter with 2 of Laura's college friends joining us for the holiday weekend

7. All those unexpected twists and turns that cannot be predicted.

Jeeeez...no wonder I want to stay ahead of the wave. If not, I'll be buried. I'm racing fast to keep moving forward but I hear the roar behind me loud and clear.

Ahead of the Wave

I've changed the title of my blog. I never much cared for the original: Born in Aruba which then morphed into Born in Aruba, Living in Seattle. Striking me as rather plain, boring and factual, I decided to try a title with more pizazz, something that raises a question rather than answers one.

In this month of March I identify with the metaphor of riding the wave, hoping to stay on the down slope, harnessing the power of the forward movement, crafting the strategy, and above all feeling the exhilaration of the moment. On the other hand, the image just as easily connotes a tension filled perspective as the wave seeks to overwhelm and bury me in the rush of life's momentum. We may have strategies but in the end, we are not in control. From which voice does this "Ahead of the Wave" title spring? I would have to say from both. Each day seems like a serious ride to somewhere for me; the destination may be the shore, another wave, or just the endless blue. Navigational skills are critical; I spend most of my energy cultivating these.

Let's ride the wave but keep ahead of it.

H.D.M.

One of my favorite phrases describes my physical and mental body perfectly today: "hammered dog meat". People always gasp and then laugh when I say this. I usually end up prefacing my remark with "as we say in Texas, I feel like"........hammered dog meat although I don't really know the origin of this expression. Seems as though Denny and I picked it up when we lived in Houston; perhaps we heard it come out of the mouth of infamous trauma surgeon "Red Duke" at Hermann Hospital during our training days. No offense to dogs (I love them) but somehow hammered any-other-meat just doesn't convey the meaning quite as well.

I have not slept well for three days. Last night there was a drive back into the hospital (rarely happens) to supervise an urgent dialysis which got me back home around 1:30 AM. I'm way too old for these hours and no amount of caffeine provided the beneficial effect that yesterday's jolt gave me. I'm fuzzy, frazzled and restless. But, the good news is that I'm off work until late March; between a few vacation days and my knee surgery, there will be a break from the work routine. Certainly other "stuff" will fill in the time but tending to kidneys won't.

As for "hammered dog meat", let it just stand as it is; an exhaustion beyond the usual, enough to qualify me as road kill. One good night's rest and I'll likely be good as new, like the cartoon characters who get flattened by the steam roller and "poof", appear lively and rejuvenated in the next frame.

Desert Island Must Haves

This morning my body felt dead. After sleeping all night on the couch in Mom and Dad's apartment, curled up under a throw that didn't quite cover me, getting up a few times in the night to assist Mom to the bathroom and then hearing the knock from the relief caregiver at 6 AM whilst in a deep sleep had me feeling less than my best.

But, after a grande Americano and a couple of regular aspirin, I was amazed at the transformation. I morphed into an alert, positive person, full of insights, energy and a bit of passion for my work. Notice, I said "a bit" of passion for my work.

I've been trying to cut back on coffee. Denny points out that this is "dumb" since I've been hooked since age 16 and have probably only done without less than a dozen times in our entire marriage. Once before a scheduled elective surgery, I got up hours before just so that I could get my coffee in before the cut off time. Perhaps what I'm trying to do is cure my insomnia; at least that's what I tell myself. Yesterday was a coffee-free day (only tea) and I felt dull and limp all day. Sometimes after a respite from the brew and a then a sudden blast (as in this morning), the jolt is overwhelming, like raw fuel pouring into the engine of an F 16.

And so, my must-haves in the category of "drugs" for the desert island are the following:
1. coffee
2. aspirin
3. imitrex

I can do without the alcohol, narcotics, nicotine, chocolate, or the female equivalent of viagra (if that ever appears). Just the basics to keep my head clear and pain free. These three are the bomb.

I can't give up the coffee just yet. Maybe I don't need to.