Timing is everything

We've long known that the person sitting next to us in the plane may have paid next-to-nothing for his seat while ours cost an amount equal to a small country's debt. Now the same may be said, to a certain extent, of hotel rooms.

Needing one for a Saturday night in Dallas, I checked the opportunities at a hotel of choice. We'd never stayed there, but it was close to our kids' homes and since we would be seeing them as well as Christmas shopping, it was a prime candidate. It was booked. Choice number 2 belonged to my honors program and so I checked it out. There were choices in accommodations, varying from $99 to $141, depending on bed choice. I printed off the listing, checked with the spouse, and found he agreed that, given the nature of the venture--Christmas shopping--cheaper was better. Two hours later, I'm back online.

And the prices are $10 higher! Higher!

Not to be outdone, I called the hotel's reservations desk. Well, as the very nice clerk explained, there'd been a rush on rooms the last two hours, and so the computers automatically adjusted the prices to make them more valuable.

I could certainly understand that, so I booked before there was a $20 differential.

This morning, I checked again. How high could they go? I wondered. Well, not very. They were back down to $99.

I didn't cancel and rebook, although I thought about it. With my luck, there'd have been another "run" on the rooms while I was doing so. All I can say is: that place had better be full!

When an 'Up' toilet seat is okay

I was raised in what was, basically, a female household. From the time I was 9 or so, Mother had so remodeled the house that Daddy had his own private half-bath off the kitchen. Therefore, the toilet seat in the girls' bathroom was always down.

Then I married and produced two sons and spent the next twenty-plus years complaining about the majority of the household not being considerate of the minority of the household in their toilet-seat-manners. 'Up' was the (com)mode of the day. It was get used to it or wear myself out complaining. As the boys grew older, I found there were genuinely lots of other things to complain about, and 'Up' became merely a sore point.

Then, last week, I had an epiphany. There's a definite place for 'Up' and it's in the ladies' room.

Ever go shopping early in morning, just after the store opens? If you've traveled a fair bit to get there (an hour is normal from where I live), the first place you want to go is the ladies' room. It's unsullied at that time of day (24 hour stores perhaps the exception) and the seats are 'Up' to prove that. Putting one down is guarantee that someone has just been through with the cleaning products.

Of course, I suppose, someone could put the seat back up after use, but really, don't you think that's counterintuitive for women? I do. It just wouldn't be natural.

So 'Up' means clean, but alas, probably only in the ladies' room.

Catch'em before they Fall

We have a ginkgo tree, one of three or four in our town. It's 17 years old and was a gift from a friend. As a twig, it was put in the spot where a huge old hackberry had stood. The first trunk, such as it was, died, but the ginkgo sent up another shoot and this is the one that's now a good 25 feet tall. It branches out latterly and is basically nondescript or bare for 11 months of the year. Then, come autumn, it puts on a show-stopper of foliage. It turns brilliant, traffic-stopping yellow and gold.

But alas, we'll wake up one morning and where there had been a tree with slowly falling leaves, there will be a robust twig. All leaves--gone! Therefore, we enjoy it while we can. To that, here are pictures. The last one I took by standing underneath it at night and setting my camera on a tripod. The yard light gave it an eerie glow.

So, until next Fall...

Garmin and I reach detente

Not to be deterred by a piece of technology, I once again entered the realm of tapping Carmen Garmin's buttons. This time, I started with where I was and kept sliding my finger to show where I knew I should be going. There, coming into map view, was Cooper Lake. Going in closer, there was the State Park. Why, that little rascal! It was there all along. Now, how to make CG bring it up.

I pointed at the intersection and instead of FM 3505, it gave me Hwy 3503. Tapping again found CG waffling in her addressing and naming it FM 3505 and FM 3503. Tsk, tsk. I went back to the Find it screen and typed in the address as Hwy and voila! there it was!

Somehow, with CG, it's all about semantics. Quicker than quick, she lays in the map and wants me to leave immediately. No such luck, girl. I hear the preferred route has a water washout and we'll be detouring no matter what. I suppose, had I been allowed to register and upgrade, she'd have known that?

Not putting money on that one.

Me vs. the Garmin

My children gifted me with a Garmin for my birthday, specifically for our use in California last month. We plugged her in (her name is Carmen Garmin because I like names that rhyme) and, while she didn't always direct us the way the paper map did, she always got us there. Good girl.

But I don't use her around here because I know my way. And I was a bit miffed because to even register her, I had to plug her into my mac and--I really am not surprised--they weren't currently supporting the version (newest, btw) of Safari I have. So, unregistered and non-upgradeable, still she's serving her purpose.

Until today. Today I am quite disgusted with her.

We will soon be venturing for an afternoon to Cooper Lake State Park. It's an hour from here and we know the way. But for grins... why not have CG tell me how she thinks I should go?

I get past the screens for the state and the town and I'm typing in the address as given on the State Park website. I get no further than 'FM' (farm-to-market road) when she immediately gives me two choices of FMs. Neither one is the one I want. There is no getting her off of it. She will NOT let me enter the proper number. I have a take-it-or-leave-it situation.

So I think to outsmart her and go back to the beginning and type in the name of the State Park. The little hour glass spins and spins. And spins. I empty the groceries from the car and put them up and still she is spinning. Finally, the verdict: No Matches.

Perhaps someone should tell the Texas Park system that Cooper Lake doesn't exist. Maybe I will when I check in.

Eerie, Texas

Last night being Halloween and no trick-or-treaters having shown at our door by 6:45, we adjourned to dinner at our favorite Mexican spot. Had there been something showing at the local theater which we wanted to spend our senior-fare on, we'd have done that next, but there wasn't, so we didn't do the second leg of the local Saturday/Friday night trio: dinner, show, Walmart.

We raced on to the third leg. The parking lot was sparse, but we didn't think anything of that as it was Halloween. Then we saw costumed kids coming out with candy and figured Walmart was running an in-house trick or treat festival, which they were. All over the store were games and prizes and what looked like the tail-end of a long evening for the employees.

My husband took off one way and I, another. This routine is usually bound to have each of us searching the store for the other and last night was no different, but that's not the eerie part of the post. This is: Having swung through the fruit and veggie aisle, I turned up the big side aisle for meats and dairy. It's wide. Very wide. And it was very empty.

I've never seen that aisle empty. It was 7:30 in the evening and there was no one there. Really strange. I started looking at the cross aisles and they were empty too. If there were people, they were headed the other way. In fact, I went the entire side of the store and didn't meet anyone. I'd think the place more populated at midnight.

Really strange, eerie feeling. Unwelcome. Weird. Walmart without customers. No, thank you. I eventually found everyone at the check-out lines and I couldn't get there fast enough.

But it's not even Halloween!

In the spirit of setting my home aright for the double-duty it will perform the 4th week of November, I hauled down my scanty autumn and Thanksgiving decorations. In the past, I've collected turkeys, but the only two which have survived are a painted gourd one with a feather-duster tail and a metalwork fellow who appears anorexic. He has no fear of being on the table. Assorted pumpkins and that was it.

Alas, not nearly enough to set for a family baptismal celebration and Thanksgiving four days later. Off I went to shop.

Hobby Lobby, bless their hearts, had all sorts of stuff half-price. This was just great and I added metal pumpkins and candle holders and candles to my booty. I had pulled out my tablecloths and Target supplied another, as did Bed Bath and Beyond. Kirkland's was practically giving it away and I found some awesome wine glasses which we'll use on Thanksgiving Day when I'll have a better chance of controlling the toddler population and the glassware.

What bothers me is that I've done all this wonderful autumn shopping--and it's just October--not even Halloween--and it was all half price or less! And why might that be? Because the Christmas decorations are flooding the next aisles and demanding the space occupied by the fall goodies!

I'm not even thinking about Christmas beyond the gift list and I'm already a holiday behind. Sheesh!