Do You Sudoku?

I'm addicted to Sudoku. I first picked it up while visiting my mother-in-law in the hospital. She got a book as a gift but didn't want to bother learning how to do it. (She was too busy learning to function minus one leg.)

Now I have the puzzle books scattered around my house, in my purse and n my car. I must have a sudoku puzzle to work on while I wait at the doctor's office, stand on line at the grocery store, sit at a red light, or while watching a show my husband chose for us to watch.

It's become an obsession. They come in three or four levels of difficulty and I've mastered 'easy' and 'medium.' I've been known to solve a 'hard' one or two but 'diabolical' is over my head. I'll get there. Just a few more years and I'll have it down.

Do you sudoku?

Ghost Hunting on Star Island

Two of my favorite things are coming together: Star Island, New Hampshire and the TV show, Ghost Hunters.

Star Island is one of seven islands that are about ten miles off the coast of New Hampshire that make up the Isles of Shoals. My sister has been affiliated with Star Island for many years. She started out working summers as a Chamber Maid in the hotel and is now (what are you this year, Nancy?) an advisor of some sort.

My mother has worked out there on two separate occasions for a couple of weeks at a time in the gift shop. I've been there as a guest a few times. It's very isolated and peaceful. A lovely, historic spot where conferences are held.

Last summer we took my sister and her husband's sailboat out to the Isles of Shoales. Here are a couple of the guys taking the dingy out to the sailboat:



I sprawled out on the front of the boat and took this photo of my brother-in-law at the wheel. Look at that big expanse of water behind us.



Then I pointed my camera forward and you can just barely see the islands up ahead:


Looking from one of the smaller islands across to Star Island, where the big hotel is:



Some of our party just hangin' out on the rocks:


Tomorrow night, Star Island will be the featured location on Ghost Hunters. I've been enjoying that show for years. What makes it unique is that Jason and Grant go to various sites to DISprove that there are ghosts about. They look for logical explanations for what people have experienced. But every now and then things happen that they can't explain.

This is gonna be good.

The Houston Rodeo

Opening fireworks (click on the arrow):



Last night my husband and I were invited to enjoy the Houston Rodeo from a Sky Box.



There were about twenty of us sharing a room with a buffet dinner, free drinks, TV monitors, private bathroom and access to our own stadium seats. I'm not a fan of rodeos, but this sounded like a civilized way to go. I could watch the action or not.

Chariot races (click on the arrow):


Bull riding:


I was told there would be live music as well, which I'm always up for.

The featured performed last night was Clay Walker.



I've never heard of him. No kidding. The announcer told us he's sold over ten million albums! Still, I didn't recognize him when he came out. I'm not a fan of country music and I guess I've done a pretty good job of avoiding it.

He's good. Though his band was set and ready to rock on the center stage, he entered the arena on horseback. Yee-ha!!

(This isn't actually him, but that would have been great if it was, right? haha)

He served up a very polished show, complete with some simple choreography (tilting his black cowboy hat at the appropriate moments, swiveling his hips, flashing a huge smile), lots of loving words for Houston and Texas and America. *sniff* It was very effective.

Clay Walker (click on the arrow):



I got to wear my awesome cowboy boots, so that alone was worth it.

Wedding Anniversary

Today's my wedding anniversary. We were married in March in New York much to the dismay of many out-of-town guests. (It was cold!) My husband and I had been dating for SIX years and when we finally decided to get married, I wanted to just do it right away. I was more focused on the marriage than the wedding.

I guess we had about six months to plan the wedding. It was everything I wanted, very personal, very ME. All of my bridesmaids could sew, so I let them pick out whatever dress pattern they liked, as long as they all had long sleeves. Then I bought the same fabric for everyone. It was like a fashion show when they walked down the aisle: four women in the same burgundy satin in different styles.

I designed the program that every guest was handed as they entered the church. It included the names of all involved in the service and their relation to the bride or groom. On the back was a poem I wrote for my husband.

I wore my Mom's wedding gown. That woman must have had a hell of a figure because the waist was snug on me (and I was skinny), but the bust of the gown flopped around empty. I told all of my bridesmaids that if they wanted me to store anything for them (like a blow dryer), I had plenty of room in there.

Of course, we had the gown altered. My Mom tells me that when she went to pick up the gown at the cleaners, Billy Joel's wife (at the time) saw it hanging up and commented that it was pretty. (cool!)

At the reception, I insisted on a DJ so that guests could make requests. It turned into a rave (perhaps I exaggerate?), with bodies packing the dance floor, sweaty and laughing until the last song. I wanted a party and I got one. People still comment how fun our wedding was.

Many of the people who knew us back in college thought it would never last because Greg was so immature back then. He stole me away from his friend even though I resisted for a year and a half. He wore me down. I gave in against my better judgment. In the process I broke a good man's heart, but I guess it had to happen.

If you see our friends from Genesee dorm, floor C2, tell 'em they were wrong. Greg didn't break my heart. We're still together and going out to celebrate the fact tonight.

Charity Event

Chris Sligh was the entertainment at a charity event I went to last night. He has a strong, clear voice and lots of energy on stage. The audience loved him. He told us to get up on our feet during the first song and everyone happily complied:



Before two of his songs he taught us a part that he wanted us to sing. I noticed everybody-from the youngest to the oldest- belting it out as instructed:



Chris was nice enough to pose for a photo with me during his break:



Chris placed tenth on the sixth season of American Idol and dubbed his fans the "Fro Patrol."

From Wikepedia:

Through 2008, Sligh toured relentlessly, with over 115 shows and over 150 other various appearances (radio, tv, web interviews). In Aug-Sept 2008, he headlined the Back to School Tour with Jason Walker opening. The tour hit 32 cities, most of which were partnered directly with Christian radio stations.

In April of 2008, Sligh cowrote a song called "Here Comes Goodbye" with Clint Lagerberg (also the cowriter of Chris' first single "Empty Me"). This song was released by the country music group Rascal Flatts as a single in January 2009.

Chris Sligh

A friend of mine runs a non-profit organization for at-risk kids. It's basically a place for them to go after school so that they aren't out getting into trouble. She does an incredible job.

Every year she hosts a fund-raiser with a silent and live auction, followed by a show. I don't know how she managed this, but this year the entertainment is Chris Sligh. I admit that I don't know anything about him except that he was an American Idol contestant. Did he make it to the top 10? (And how do you pronounce his name?)

It all goes down tonight. I'm looking forward to it. I seem to remember something about Chris naming his fans the "Fro Patrol." Do you think he'd like to hear some Taylor stories? No? Everyone else I know has been subjected to them, why not him? ha!

I'll let you know how it goes.

Fire Ants, Pecans and Geese, Oh My!

I noticed an impressive spider web in our garage the other day. It's been there for a while and my thighs can prove it. It's on my bicycle.

My beloved bicycle. The frame is a deep shiny blue and when we first brought it home, it had that new-tire smell. It's got too many gears for my liking, but that's OK. They look cool.

I've always loved to ride bikes, though I'm not like those guys you see with the skintight outfits offering views you feel you should tip them for. Or those women hunched down over the handle bars, getting some extra use out of their Lamaze lessons. No!

I'm that grinning goof-ball coasting down a small incline, feet stuck out on either side, seeing how far she can get without pedaling. Dare I say it? I ride for fun.

But I haven't given the old bike a whirl for about a year, I guess. No particular reason, I just haven't made time for it. I'm sure I would take it out if I had a specific place to go, like my mom did when she was about my age. She decided to ride her bike to work and though it was only a few miles, you have to give her credit for doing it.

The memory of mom pedaling off on her bike made me realize that I shouldn't rely so much on my suburban. So when it needed some minor repairs, I impulsively turned down the ride the repair shop offered and walked the few miles home.

I cut through a small park and temporarily became one of the walkers pumping around an endless circle. As they cruised off to the right, I continued straight towards an embankment. I got some curious glances, but I wanted to follow the creek instead of taking the road. That's the beauty of getting around on foot. I could go the shortest distance between two points by taking the straight line.

Well, nobody mentioned that the straight line might go through a marsh.

The grass was knee-high and the ground beneath my inappropriate shoes was wet. I walked on, unwilling to backtrack. Besides, I thought, as I looked around. It was really beautiful. You don't see sights like this from a car! The creek ambled through some empty fields. Not a soul in sight. Not a living soul. Good place to dump a body, I thought.

Whoa! Too much TV. Still, sufficiently spooked, I ran, knees high, like a deranged gazelle. I worried about ant piles, snakes and a guy I saw on America's Most Wanted.

Spotting the road up ahead, I was relieved, but I wondered if anyone could see me. It's one thing to catch an eight-year-old wildly hopping through the high grass. It's quite another to see a forty-something woman doing it.

Reaching the sidewalk, I played it cool, like it was perfectly natural to be walking along on Hwy 6. Mid-saunter, I crunched on a pecan and couldn't help but look for more.

Here's some advice. If you're picking up pecans on a busy street, don't bend over fifty times with your butt facing traffic. When I finally realized what all the honking was about, I straightened up and concentrated on my walk.

I passed the pond and was chased by a gaggle of geese, flapping their wings as they ran towards me. "No bread!" I yelled, tossing pecans behind them.

I made it home in time to hear my phone ringing. Amazingly, my suburban was ready. I paused, considering the walk back. Perhaps the bike? I could show that spider who's boss.

Sighing, giving in, I asked, "When can you pick me up?"

Live A Little

I got a call today as I was headed out the door to buy groceries. Purse flung over one shoulder, keys in hand, I doubled back and picked up the phone.

"Caryl?" It was my neighbor, Sherry. "I hate to bring you bad news, but Pam passed away today."

So soon? I fell into a chair, dropping my keys on the table.

We neighbors had organized to take the family food on the days that Pam had chemo. Just two weeks ago my husband and I carried our meal across the street to their house. Pam let us in the front door, showed us where to put everything and then invited us to sit with her in the living room. We chatted for about 30 minutes. She was in good spirits. The tumors were shrinking.

But a week later she seemed disoriented and was taken to the hospital. A spinal tap revealed cancer in the fluid. She went from the hospital to hospice care. We planned to visit her there, but now it was too late.

Sherry promised to call when she knew anything more. After a phone call to my husband, I resumed my trip to the store.

Our local grocery store recently added a Starbucks inside. As a reward for being such a good little shopper, I always get a small...excuse me...TALL coffee. Though I love their mocha frappucinos so much I should marry them, I dutifully get a regular old coffee. Mocha fraps are expensive and fattening.

Pam was heavy on my mind as I checked out with my groceries. I pushed my cart towards Starbucks and realized I wasn't in the mood for coffee today. I headed for the door. And then out of nowhere, I stopped and knew I had to buy a Mocha Frappucino. "What are you saving it for?" I thought.

I got the works: whipped cream and chocolate sauce on top. When the barista handed it to me, I silently toasted Pam. I smiled to myself and vowed to make more of an effort to enjoy however many days I have on this earth. I know from the many talks Pam and I had that if she could, she would say to me, "Life is too short. Live a little!"

I'll miss her.

Nothing Happens For A Reason

It makes me crazy when people say that everything happens for a reason. How does it possibly make sense when a child is murdered or a church full of people is struck by a tornado? When Christopher Reeves' wife died I decided once and for all that life's events are random. Their son was only thirteen at the time and he had already lost his Dad. He needed his Mom. Senseless!

I found out today that my neighbor's cancer has spread throughout her body. Though we all have been hopeful and were thrilled to hear two weeks ago that her tumors were shrinking, today all hope is gone. She's dying.

She's 54 and has a husband and a 15 year old son. They're devastated. During one of my visits to see her when we first found out about the cancer she told me she didn't want to leave her boys (her husband and her son). I said, "That's not going to happen." She looked me in the eye and said, "But it could." And now it is.

What do you say to someone who's losing his wife? How do you comfort a child who's losing his Mom? I will never say to them that everything happens for a reason. I'm not sure I can tell them that I'll pray for them, either. What would be the point? There's nobody there to listen.