While the Cat's Away...The Mouse Just Mopes

So Richard is in India this week on the India Trek sponsored by the University of Chicago. He left Saturday after completing his finals for fall term Thursday, so there we were throwing things in a suitcase at 2 am Fri night/Sat morning. I basically haven't seen him for three weeks- as he crammed for finals and got things lined up for the India Trek (he was the co-chair), and it was only after he left that I realized I a) had no idea where he was staying or how to contact him in an emergency b) had not packed any clothing in his carry-on and c) had no idea when he was returning. Whoops. I managed to get ahold of him briefly Monday night online and got a rough itinerary and contact information for the hotel he was staying in. I also found out when he was getting home, and that the airlines had lost his luggage. Lessons learned? Carry-ons were invented for a reason.

So here I am home all week by myself, and you'd think I'd get up to some fantastic adventures, but instead I'm just moping around in my pajamas all day. I realized about 4 pm today that I had actually not spoken yet in the day. THAT was a freaky realization. No wonder talking to yourself is the crazy-person's idiosyncrasy of preference. Going outside is really not that great of an idea, since we got 6 inches of snow the Sunday morning after Richard left. As I was shoveling my way through the drift that held my front door closed with a broom (don' t know where we keep the shovel) and chipping away at the ice on my windshield (didn't know where we keep the scraper) I realized how spoiled I've become since my marriage.

The snowstorm was followed by a lovely little ice-storm three days later, so as you might agree, the incentives to leave the house (when you work from home) have not been that great. I did wind up braving the weather for a belated birthday lunch with friends, and a much proscrastinated trip to the post office to mail Christmas packages. In that same trip I picked up Christmas shipments from the mall and the UPS Customer Center, which was definitely NOT easy to locate in the dark and the beginnings of an ice storm. Let's just say some illegal left turns, illegal parking lot exiting/entrance-ing, illegal u-turns, running of red lights, and driving the wrong way down a divided highway were involved in the retrieval of my mom's Christmas present. Good thing my parents would now know how to reach Richard for funeral arrangements.

I also managed to lose my cell phone-but since I decline to brave the outdoors it's putting a crimp in my search for it. I didn't think I'd miss Richard that much, since I haven't really talked to him for a few weeks now as he's been in the throes of a new job (same company) and some intense classes. However, it's surprising how much bonding can happen while snoring happily away together in the same bed. Since he's left, I've spent the evenings procrastinating going to bed by myself (yes, I know, I am SUCH a baby) by watching the first season of the Big Bang Theory, and laughing myself sick. Or maybe that was the entire box of chocolate cherry cordials I consumed in one setting. Oh dear, Richard better get home quick. Only 52 more hours to go!

Sunset in the Caribbean

So, here is the long-promised account of our Caribbean Cruise! We sailed on the Emerald Princess out of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Although I really dislike the weather in Ft. Lauderdale, there is something to be said for living in a port from which cruise ships regularly depart. We lucked out on the airfare, using a Southwest miles credit and AA frequent flyer miles, but otherwise just GETTING to the departure port could have cost as much as the cruise! But I digress. We thoroughly enjoyed exploring the ship (Richard) and the fine dining (Letty). The fabulous thing about a cruise ship is that if you can't decide on a dinner option, you can just try them all! (Also Letty).

Princess Cays

This cruise-line owned island and beach was our first port of call. It had good swimming beaches, and abundant free food. Best of all, it actually had the best snorkeling available the whole trip (without a paid excursion). Canny Richard packed two snorkeling masks and his snorkel, so we were able to just float around on our own, as the reefs were really close to shore. Letty was THRILLED to find that not knowing how to swim was NO PROBLEM in snorkeling. Some combination of very salty water, an air-filled snorkel mask and VERY salty water kept her afloat just fine! The deep depths of the ocean were sufficiently lovely to convince her to take swimming lessons soon! Sweet Richard let her use the snorkel most of the time, while he floated on the inflatable raft clever Letty had packed and looked over the side of it. Richard can hold his breath for a surprisingly long time.

*It's a good thing the next day was at sea. Richard and Letty were both sunburned very, very painfully. They spent the next 12-14 hours in their cabin, companions in misery. 24 hours later Letty had a great tan! And Richard was...just as red as ever. In fact, Letty had never, ever seen someone in more sunburn pain. When the itching started she began to fear some sort of restraints were in order.

St. Maarten
Richard slathered on a huge layer of sunscreen (as he had at the first port, SPF 50, and brought it with to reapply (the error which caused the sunburn). He also wore pants, socks, tennies and a thick shirt. We gingerly hiked the 1.5 miles into town, eschewing the overpriced taxis, and found nothing but an ugly beach that smelled of sewage, and a tawdry line of overpriced souvenir shops on one crowded street. Lessons Learned: Stay on boat OR purchase a snorkeling/diving/tour of some sort that takes place off-island.

St. Thomas

This stop was our favorite, as Richard was mostly out of the pain-woods with his sunburn, although he still dressed in the male version of the burka.

Two Hands For Luck

There we saw the world's largest Amber Waterfall, which is supposed to bring you good luck if you touch it!

We first toured Blackbeard's Castle, a variety of 19th century homes, and the Amber Museum. (Richard's pick).










One of the best parts about Blackbeard's castle were the statues of famous pirates everywhere!

Myself and Captain Jack Sparrow (or his twin)

St. Thomas is famous for it's beauty and the red roofs on the buildings. After the historical part of the day, we took an island tour, where our guide stopped at some of the famous overlook places so we could take pictures. You can even see our cruise ship anchored in the bay! At one of the stops there was a man with a goat there so we could take pictures with it!? I don't know how many crazy Americans he is used to, but Letty and that goat got no where near one another.

The island tour ended at Magen's Beach, one of the top ten beaches in the world (Letty's Pick). It is a beautiful heart-shaped beach at the edge of National Reserve forest land, so it is completely undeveloped. It was quiet and peaceful, with the most gorgeous powdery white sand, all the way out to the very deep! Richard even got in the water at the beach for a little bit with Letty, as she is very cute when she begs. Considering that he kept all his clothes on for fear of the sun's wrath, he looked pretty funny! Lessons Learned: Do not purchase excursions from the cruise ship, as we did all of this on our own for literally half the price. Also, St. Thomas is worth a re-visit, as the nearby island of St. John is supposed to be equally amazing.

Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos
Our final port was this was a charming little island that seemed to consist of nothing but beaches! Again, don't pay the cruise ship unless you want to dive. We just walked out to the pier and paid a taxi to take us to a beach with good snorkeling. We had a blast snorkeling away, and the beaches were gorgeous white sand. This was probably the prettiest port that we visited, and the least commercially built up, it reminded me a lot of the northern beaches at Cozumel. Lessons Learned: Purchase a scuba or other excursion here if you want to do more than snorkel a bit and swim a bit. Also, if you are paying for a snorkel expedition, the most boring part is the long boat ride there. The best tip we got was from a fellow passenger, who always books independently of the cruise-line to snorkel, and they always book Jet-Ski Snorkel tours! For the same price as a cruise-line snorkel excursion, you can jet-ski to and from your snorkel location!! DEFINITELY doing this next time!

Overall Cruise Lessons Learned.

• September is way, way to hot to cruise the Caribbean. It was pretty much miserable outdoors at all times not submerged in water. We couldn't really enjoy any on-deck activities, as the heat and humidity sapped the fun out them right quick. Next cruise? Nov-Feb.
• Make sure Richard reapplies his 50 SPF every 45 minutes. Bring Aloe Vera and anti-itch cream.
• Dinner is lots more fun when you have time to sit with people, so telling the Maitre d' that you are willing to be seated with others is usually a good bet!
• We are not smart enough to win any trivia games on our own. Team up with intelligent looking seniors to take the prize
• It IS possible to eat yourself sick. Practice moderation.
• Never purchase excursions from the cruise ship (except for St. Maarten).
• Bring your own Dramamine.

The Art of Entering a Public Bathroom Stall

My roadtrip to Utah began with 22 hours in a van with my father-in-law and sister-in-law. (Richard stayed behind to work). We arrived in Utah about noon on Thursday and proceeded to campus for my sister-in-law’s college visit. We slept Thursday night at my sister’s on an air mattress. My father-in-law slept the night in the van. I don’t know where, really. Wal-mart parking lot? I only know he disappeared rapidly after slinging out our pillows and toothbrushes, and was disturbingly vague when he reappeared the next morning. Friday we also spent on various campus activities, and left Friday evening at 9 for another 22 hours in the van back home. After just 36 hours in Utah.

Aside from disturbing implications about our sanity, the trip also highlighted interesting behavioral conditioning, as it relates to public bathrooms. Of which I saw a great many. What I found fascinating was that I apparently feel there is a correct way to enter a bathroom stall. At the very least, I do it the same way, every time, with unthinking regularity. Well, previously unthinking. Now that I have analyzed it, the unthinking element has been lost forever.

How to Enter a Public Bathroom Stall Correctly:

1. Always avoid the middle stall, or stalls. Statistically, these see the most frequent use, so choose end stalls first. Using your right hand, push the bathroom stall open. Be prepared to stop rapidly and avert your gaze should any startled protestations arise from within.

2. If the stall reveals itself to be untenanted, continue pushing with your right hand on the door, and take a quick half-step partially into the stall. You need to make sure you are not too far in to swing a quick 180 in retreat, should the toilet be in an undesirable condition.

3. Rapidly check the toilet seat for drops and dribbles of unidentifiable (Or worse! Identifiable!) liquids, and the toilet bowl for remainders. Always retreat if toilet is in undesirable condition, as any person too stupid or careless to work a public toilet correctly is also probably too mentally deficient to cleanse themselves properly.

4. Repeat steps 1-3 as many times as necessary. Rarely will the first try be successful. I emphasize the importance of only one small step taking you partially into the stall, so as to limit your exposure to undesirable visuals. This also facilitates a faster retreat and stall door closure.

5. After identifying a satisfactory toilet, complete your second step into the stall, and reverse another 180 to face the door. Before unfastening anything, check to make sure the stall door latches properly. (Attempting to hold it closed while simultaneously finishing your business is rarely successful). Then check to make sure there is sufficient toilet paper in the dispenser.

6. If all is in order, proceed with your business. (I previously have lined the seats with toilet paper. Then I went to China. Where I couldn’t. I figure if I didn’t catch anything horrifically dire there, the chances of it happening here are fairly rare.) When you are finished, exit the stall and wash your hands thoroughly. Do NOT leave the toilet in an unsatisfactory condition as specified above.

**Warning, failure to complete these steps in case of extremely urgent calls of nature will always, always be regretted. It is the advice of this author that you do your best to ensure things never reach the crisis stage when relying on public bathrooms.

A Tale of Two Drivers

So, our marriage boasts two highly diversified types drivers. Driver A drives when there are children, guests and old people on board. Driver B drives when we need to get somewhere in a hurry, expect to be lost, or heavy traffic is anticipated. Driver A has a clean record and a ready hand to wave another less-fortunate driver in. Driver B has several citations and a ready hand to lay on the horn when some moron tries to cut us off. I profoundly hope that, given the need, we will both be able to learn a little from the other to diversify our driving experience for changing life circumstances. However, for the time being our roles remain highly bifurcated.

Thus far, having two radically different options to put in the driver's seat has served us very well. For example, thanks to Driver A, we are both alive and well, still driving the same cars after 18th months, and still at the same, low insurance rate (Thank you, USAA). Thanks to Driver B, we successfully caught a flight departing in 60 minutes when we were 40 minutes out (per Driver A statistics.) Thanks to Driver B, we regularly negotiate downtown rush hour Chicago traffic with the same speed as the cab drivers, and make our way through accident and construction blockages twice as fast as anyone else. We also make rapid u-turns, illegal left turns, 3 pt. turns, 5 pt. turns, and 7 pt. turns, to get where Google-maps would have us go- however inadequately instructed.(No thank you, Google-maps).

Obviously, should you be instructing a young and impressionable driver, you would wish to call upon Driver A. Also, should you be transporting precious cargo (like children) fragile cargo (depleted Uranium rounds) or contraband items of any kind-Driver A is the way to go. But if you ever really, really, really need to get somewhere; if you ever reach some point where being late could mean a missed flight, or failing a final exam, or the end of your career---call Letty.

Richard University

I'm finding that marriage is a lot like getting an college degree. For the past 18 months or so I've been enrolled in Richard University, and, let me tell you, the coursework is intensive! However, unlike any other course of study I've ever pursued, the homework is consistently fun to do, and finally 'getting it' results in almost immediate rewards. When I finally get something spot on (like showing up with a bag of red apple flavored jellybelly's). Well, there is nothing quite like having a deliriously happy husband.

Of course, there is A LOT to learn, husbands being such complex and unique creatures. And they come complete with agency, the right to CHANGE what they like and how they do things at any given time. Richard University also has no graduation date, so it's important to keep a positive attitude. I like to think that I am the premier Richard Scholar in the world. As in, no one knows him quite like I do. I am delighted when people recognize my status as the most expert Richard Scholar alive, and call and ask my opinion about how to best express their love for him, or what present to buy him. I love casually dropping hints in conversation with friends to alert them to my high status as a Richard scholar...usually cheesy remarks that seem to invariably begin with "Well, my husband..." and "Richard is so funny..."

What have I learned at Richard University so far? Well, I will keep you all updated via this blog as I glean information. Look for postings that are titled Richard University. If you do NOT have a Richard-type husband, they could be very boring and non-applicable, but if you DO have a Richard-type, this could get good! Obviously no one has a "Richard," because I got the only one! BUT, I have exclaimed in enough conversations "Ohmygosh MY husband does the exact same thing!" to be firmly convinced there is more than one Richard-type husband out there. So if you've got one, here we go.

The first course at Richard University I'm going to put on record is Expectation Setting 101. I have learned to be very exact and precise when I want something, and have regretfully surrendered the art of hinting as completely futile. As a brand new newlywed student at Richard University, I would say things like "Oh, it's been such a long day, and dinner is no where NEAR done..." and expect him to cheerful don an apron and belly-up to the sink. NOT so much what happened. Instead, he'd smile and say "that's fine, I can wait" and continue reading the mail. Well, having completed Setting Expectations 101, I no longer become angry, or even inwardly muttering resentful. NOW I say, "Richard, will you take the next 15 minutes and help with dinner? It would be most helpful if you would start with peeling the potatoes, followed by setting the table with plates, silverware and glasses. If you finish both those early, will you please ask me if there is anything else you can do to help?" Originally I veered away from such explicit requests, because they sounded WAY too bossy. And maybe this sounds too childish for most of you. However, if your husband is a Richard-type husband, it could save you a lot of frustration!

Richard-type husbands would really, really love to be helpful, and are more than willing to spend 15 minutes helping you put dinner on. What they are NOT willing to do is be enrolled in an unspecified cooking adventure/indentured servitude with no end in sight. And they really don't like having their help dismissed or criticized after they've spent 2 minutes flinging plates on the table and then resumed their reading of the mail. After all, they DID stop what they were doing when you asked, AND helped you! And why are FORKS required! Sound familiar? Setting Expectations 101 helps me remember to always give Richard an out that lets him now how long I expect anything to take (talking, helping, visiting my parents) and a specific time after which he is allowed to leave without hurting my feelings or making me mad. And the more specific I can make what I expect him to do or contribute, the likelier it is that he will actually get it done without my harping on it later. And, from his perspective, the specificity keeps me honest about NOT requiring mind-reading as a husband-ish skill. Which is only fair, because, to be perfectly candid, sometimes I DO expect him to read my mind about things. Setting clear expectations up helps me to realize the difference between what I've ACTUALLY asked him to do, and what I just thought he should somehow miraculously know he should do.

Spontaneous Combustion or Stimulus Dollars at Work?

Growing up in Alaska we always used to say there were only two seasons, Winter and Road Construction. The winter snow and ice invariably destroyed roads so much that come the dryer summer weather it seemed every road was in dire need of repair. Once we moved to the lower 48 I thought that I would never again experience Road Construction in quite that capitalized, Alaskan way. Enter our weekly commute to Chicago over the weekend as my husband completes his part-time MBA program. It was novel and interesting in September. By December the excitement was wearing thin. By January and February sheer terror reigned (icy roads, late nights and exhausted drivers). I greeted this spring with relief, and desperate hope that at the very least, the commute might finally achieve an angst reduction. Imagine my dismay when overnight the entire city of Chicago and its surrounding roadways seemed to have spontaneously combusted.

Driving north into the city I exhausted our clutch and gave myself a permanent foot-cramp during the two hour patience marathon otherwise known as the last 30 mile stretch of I-55 entering the city. I managed to keep my temper (and not murder my side-seat driver and his ‘helpful’ suggestions) by telling myself it was a one-time fluke. But then on the way west OUT of the city that night, and then back east IN to the city the next morning and then back OUT again headed south and home Saturday afternoon, we were met with construction, on every major road. There are only Wicked Witches at every compass point in this story. We stay with family Friday night each weekend, and when we (finally) arrived at their neighborhood to find their subdivision road ripped out, I might have sad a tiny little bad word.

In desperation I jumped on google maps to see if it was just my own little Charlie Brown rain-cloud of road construction following me around, or if Chicagoland roadways really had all spontaneously combusted overnight. Unfortunately, the latter was true. Well - not the spontaneous combustion part. But the mass of highway demolition frenzy, spurred on by our stimulus dollars, looks to be part of our commute for a long, long time to come.

The Path of True Love...Is Paved with Good Intentions

My husband does not so much ignore hints as cultivate a willful obtuseness. It’s absolutely no use to hint away and hope he will pick up on something you would like him do, you have to resort to direct measures. Generally I don’t have a problem with this. In my opinion, you simply can’t hold people (men in particular) responsible for things that you only wished they would do, and assumed they would know. However, my husband has a talent for defeating even my cheerful directness. When I say “I would really like you to do something sweet for our anniversary Honey.” He says “The anniversary of buying the house? Do people celebrate that?” If he’s feeling especially creative he counters with “Letty, the verb ‘sweet’ cannot apply to an action, it’s virtually impossible to do something sweet.” To which sophistry I reply precisely “Please buy me flowers or candy with a card. Preferably a card with some type of poetry on it, and not one where you’ve crossed out ‘birthday’ and written in ‘anniversary’ with a Sharpie.”

Given this background, it should not surprise that the week prior to our anniversary found him asking wistfully Wednesday afternoon as I headed out the door to the grocery store “Does it ‘count’ if I give you some cash and you get flowers for yourself while you’re there?” Refusing to be beguiled by his puppy dog eyes, I responded emphatically “No, it does not!” and headed out the door. Embroiled in the frenetic pace of our lives these days, we went to bed Friday night without a whisper of plans to celebrate ever being referenced again. It was then that I heard a soft whisper from my sweet man. “I was going to spend the whole afternoon tomorrow taking you around Chicago and seeing all of these incredibly fun things as a way to make our anniversary special, but I just go so busy I had no time to plan anything, and now…I have nothing.” He sounded so woeful I just had to smile. Snuggling in close I told him softly “That’s okay, I was going to write you a sweet note every day this week telling you why I loved being married to you...but I didn’t.” Laughter soon consumed us and we giggled away thinking of the extravagantly good intentions of the other. And that’s when I decided that sometimes it really is the thought that counts, with or without action attached.

So, if you have good intentions some day to do something wonderful for your spouse that just doesn’t happen, share those good intentions. What you meant to do might be just as good as what you actually do. And then together you can both figure out how to make something happen. For us, we celebrated the Sunday of our anniversary with a no-holds-barred game of Blokus. On Monday he took me to a fabulous fancy restaurant I have always gazed longingly out the window at whenever we drove by (recall, I said the man was ‘willfully obtuse’ not ‘stupid’). And he might not have gotten a weeks worth of notes, but he did get a carton of his favorite rocky road ice-cream with a great big bow!

Now that I have an official 'blog' I seem to be suffering from a severe case of writer's block. I find myself generating and discarding ideas at alarming speed after intense analysis reveals them to be 'not funny enough' or 'not interesting enough' or 'not insightful enough.' And, as if suffering from content inadequacy wasn't enough, I have also fallen victim to the dreaded 'word count' monster of my college term paper night terrors. Someone once told me that a good blog entry was 350 to 500 words, and I find myself debating whether or not I actually have 350 words to say about a particular topic or idea. What if I only have 335 words in me on the subject of cleaning the gunk from under the bathroom sink faucet? Or, and knowing me far more likely, perhaps I have 1500 words about the strangeness of Chicagoans dyeing their river green. What then? No one wants to read a 1500 word blog, with or without a green river.


But let's suppose I actually manage to write a blog entry...I still must contend with the disheartening Catch-22 of success! Having written one humorous, interesting, insightful and precisely word-counted blog, I must somehow write ANOTHER one, to fulfill the parameters of excellence I have now set for myself. But everyone knows the surest way of achieving success is to make sure you set the bar low enough. Why else do I consistently set the weight for the tricep press at the gym a comfortable 5-10 pds below what i can actually lift? To ensure success in reaching the prescribed number of repetitions of course. I'm not stupid. I am therefore leery of raising the expectations of my soon-to-be massive readership, so that they click on my blog actually anticipating a worthwhile return on their time. And there we come to the final element of my writer's block. Massive Hubris.


In deciding to make my blog public, the key determinant appears to have been hubris. I seem to be convinced that people would love to read about ME! And no, there is NO basis for it reality, you know, the world the rest of humankind exists in. The world that rotates quite calmly in orbit around a star that is not myself. And then there's Letty, out in a galaxy far, far, away, writing in her 'chronicles' at 1 in the morning. Nevermind that I've now managed to write 395 words about not being able to write. Nevermind that attempting to rise in the morning will be like trying taking out the Death Star with a pop gun. Or that my interactions with family and friends during the day tomorrow will remind them forcibly of Chewbacca as all my wookie-ness comes out in full force. (Who hasn't dreamt of going through the day without being required to answer questions with anything more than a constipated-sounding gargle?) No, nevermind any of that. Because- I. Have. Blogged.

And the Winner Is...

Thanks to everyone who voted on a blog name for me! The top two choices, were, by far

• Me, Myself and Richard
• Chronicles of Letty

They were pretty much in a dead heat, and then some guy in Japan took Me, Myself and Richard! So, that answered that question. I'm going to try and get started on this soon for real, but just to follow-up the facebook event with an invitation to the blog, I guess this is my first official posting!