Images (yes, many of food) of a Faculty Strike

Hello happy Readers!  I am back because I wanted to put down for my posterior (#joke) what happened this week -- we went on strike!  APSCUF went on strike!  Never done in our 40+ years. Forced to it by a bunch of bunglers on the other side (I recognize the redundancy of that statement).

Let me start with MY overview: it was a great experience!  We had a membership meeting last night (Friday) where many people talked about the friends they had made, friends they had reconnected with and that next time they were asked to authorize a strike, or even do it, it would be an easy call.

IT WAS A WHOLLY POSITIVE EXPERIENCE.

[late addition: my string bag items for first day]

LHU hat, hand  cleaner, REAL drugs, mini-speaker, "schmoo" (hi-tech drink thing), minor drugs, breath mints (a la lobbying school), recharging battery...umbrella & gore-tex pants followed

My role was a picket captain.  When I signed on, I asked if I got a captain's hat; I was told "sure."  (Liars!)  But I "found" a hat.  Here's the picture from day 1:

And, if you missed it, that IS a parrot on my shoulder (more momentarily).  Because every captain in the movies has a parrot on their shoulder -- right, matey? My two shifts called me "Cap'n Graybeard" because, I was told, "Captain Steve" just sounded so...well, not nautical.

BTW, you can see Mark Cloud, in his blue APSCUF shirt, in the background.

I texted both my "crews" (we had 2-hour shifts and we told to take 2 each), supposedly at "5:30 on Wednesday" (it was really 6:30) to make sure they knew we were out & we'd see each other soon.  They all responded with something like "aye aye, captain."  LOL.

I wrote an email about being on faculty strike that I never sent, from my experience in 2011 in California (in two days, I got tear-gassed and then picketed -- an interesting experience.  I love LA!), that said it was a lot of walking, some bonding, and a lot of boredom.  Back and forth, back and forth.  I logged 39,000+ steps in 3 days -- I only took 56K ALL WEEK last week.  There hasn't been enough ibuprofen.

But get this: the one member of my crew, Kate from Rec Science (you'll see that she's both "young" and fit) did 50,000 steps on Thursday!!!!  I think she did 4 shifts.  Inspiring.  And tiring.

#EATING OUR WAY TO A CONTRACT

Since this blog often focuses on food, I can move to that via the students -- they kept bringing food on Wednesday.  And Thursday.  I put in pictures in order...

Crew member Paul with Wed quick lunch -- MacD's (a terrible theme; BTW -- the president's office is in that building in the background)

I thought we had MacD's in last picture!

Warm snickerdoodles.  I can resist anything but warm cookies! 

My lunch Thursday (there was a meeting so I was in "the Temple") -- that's a cheesesteak & donut.  #heart healthy

My vegan officemate Tracey posing taking a freshly baked muffin from one of our English majors

President-elect Matt Girton wanted this shot taken of him finally eating something healthy -- brought by wiser students :) 

Finally for brunch on Friday, yes, that's moist chocolate cake with a heavy layer of peanut butter icing on it.

STUDENTS

If you can't tell from the pics and food above, the students were great.  I wasn't doing numbers (gee, I'm an English professor) but on Wednesday there were lots there, bringing food, just saying hi and talking, and many picketing with us.

(Side story: I talked to a colleague last night -- I knew everyone in the room, OC -- who had his daughter on the line with him yesterday, aged about 12, who wanted to bring her great grandfather's miners helmet and did.  Generational unionism.  Awesome)

They also went into the admin building and had a sit in around noon Wednesday.    The President didn't even stick his head out of his office.  (this in stark contrast to my friend the president at West Chester, who was pictured on Twitter out on the line, shaking students hands and talking to them -- the caption said "this is what leadership looks like.")

We were especially warmed by our (English) majors -- many, many, many came by, stayed and chatted, some brought food, some walked the line, including Meghan, our English Major of the Year two years ago, who walked multiple shifts over multiple days.  Props.

Frank

At some point I was inspired by my parrot to name him/her.  When the shit hit the fan on Tuesday night, and the system was no longer talking, I realized the parrot's name should be Frank.

Frank became famous, of course.  My favorite point on this was running into the HR director, who was friendly back before she got this gig (she worked as the provost's AA) and I was just a faculty member signing a temp contract every year.  She looked at the parrot and I said "his name is Frank" and she said "I don't want to know."  On her return from Starbucks (no, she didn't get me one...so close and so far) she overheard me give Frank's routine: "I expect them to take birdseed...I stopped talking on Tuesday..."  She said "I don't want to know, I don't want to know..." I yelled out his Twitter address.

Frank made the paper (it's a long story but here -- http://www.lockhaven.com/news/local-news/2016/10/faculty-strike-at-lhu-across-the-state/) but here was Frank's reaction --

Frank(THE FL parrot) ‏@FrankFLparrot  Oct 20

Toy effing' parrot! What what what?! Frank. My name is Frank! D*****t! I'm famous! For my color. For my early bedtime! For not talking!

I got a lot of mileage out of Frank. As I should. His last tweet, after the settlement, complained about the lack of mention in some of the press releases and that he decided he'd just go back to Florida.

LOL.

HOME

I think everyone reading this, or on the original distribution list at least, know I live in a mixed home: I'm a union officer and my wife is in HR in the system. I can say, after the strike, we are still married! I know many wonder how that has happened AT ALL for 35 years, but we are actually speaking lovingly this morning. But it was a rough week. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday we competed to see who could get out the house earliest (I won Friday...someone was losing energy as the week progressed), and Wednesday and Thursday she worked till after 8 PM. She said "just the normal 14 hour day."

And this gives me an opportunity to grouse about the system's management (I mean Frank, mostly, and his predecessors) and their strategy on our contracts. The only time we've gotten one on time since Jim White and Jim McCormack wrote one on a napkin in the mid-nineties (I've seen the napkin), was when we said we weren't working without a contract in 2007, and most of us know how well that went on the union side. They waste huge amounts of human energy with this -- the last week the number of hours of meetings, of work in HR offices, is just ridiculous. Moving off campus, contingency plans, having someone go to classes to take attendance, it's all just a big waste and no Chancellor for 20 years has seemed to care. I guess it's Marxist: those who make the decisions really don't care what it does to those of us proles in the trenches, on both sides.

I feel for those in those offices around the system who had to grind all this out, and still will have to put it all back together. Not so bad as to not strike, but bad in the big picture.

The Organization and the Finish

One question is always "how (not can) do we pull this off?" It seems having had two strike workshops was beneficial (I'm here taking credit for the one in 2013 being helpful) because the mobilization chair, our assistant chair, PR chair, spokesperson, and student liaison did great jobs. And the equipment put together -- like bullhorns -- was right. It was smooth as you could expect. The one thing I missed from California was a port-a-potties (CFA hired a consultant to put their strike in '11, with solar powered phone chargers, pop up canopies, coolers and nutritious snacks and high quality sound systems) -- but we all survived, though I'd hate to be the person who cleans the bathrooms in the three homes we used for 3 days.

As I arrived Friday morning (about 830), Rep. Mike Hanna, who is on the Board of Governors, pulled up to our picket station and said that an agreement was close at hand and to hang on and he thought there'd be a deal by noon. Word spread. When asked, I said, we picket till we're told not to -- more than one "almost agreement" has slipped into days, weeks, to nail down.

My heroes (and friends) -- our negotiating team: from left, Ken (Mr President), Mary Rita, Jamie (VP with the lights over her head -- ironically angelic????), Amy, and Chris, with Stuart (our hired gun) in front signing. 

But Friday we had weather. In the night Thursday night the area had 4-7" of rain (my source is a guy in a tee and shorts in Sheetz Friday morning); it was overcast and spitting all morning. Then, around noon, the wind started howling. A student had come by and brought a tarp and hung it between trees with real ship knots and we scrambled to untie it and cover our signs. We used a cooler and folding chair to hold it down, somehow in the meantime using someone's "stuff" (including keys) as the trashbag. She scared us more than the storm yelling at us. LOL.

So all the picketers gathered in the Masonic Temple downtown, our temporary off-campus on Main St., and they had homemade vegetable soup (never got there) and then more MacDonald's (yes, at one  point I had a cheeseburger).  

We had decided to have an all member meeting Friday evening to look at the last proposals and get everyone psyched up for Monday morning -- thinking we wanted to be strong if we went to week 2.  We had slideshow, prepared of course by Mark, ready, but knowing that there was stuff in the air -- Stan (our chapter president) had another conference call at 3:40.  He came out saying it was over -- then the official message came from the state office.  & Mark started working on the slide show of the agreement.  I bought beer.  

It was quite the celebration -- I counted 100 there at one point and some people came and went. 

Many people spoke.  One recurrent theme was our solidarity, and the help and support of so many students.  Many walked the line, many brought food, many were supportive by honking as they passed, some wrote emails to our president, the real Frank, the Governor and representatives.  And they didn't overdo going to class -- we'll spin it positively that they supported the faculty who told them they'd be out on strike.  

It was one happy group in that room last night.  We talked about how easy it'd be next time -- and we're willing for there to be a next time -- and how close we felt after all going through all this.  One of the scabs came and gave a painful speech about how he screwed up and was too weak and knew he didn't deserve the benefits we'd gone out for but he knew that now and he'd be there from now on.  He got some applause.  No one wanted any downers.  (one funny story, one Exec Council member, who might be a bit intense ran into the Starbucks on East Campus [I teach 2 classes there this semester] to yell "scab, scab, scab" at a guy as he got his coffee and then tried to get to his office and, the next day, said he saw another scab a block and a half a day went running after her yelling "scab" but he said "she's faster than I am."  LOL.  Some people will have a tough time ahead.  Just sayin'.  I don't remember there names -- right?

And, so, today, I'm home, not picketing, with a good TA, and a great experience.  

And here's my departmental colleagues (the ones left at the end of the meeting, rocking the blue T-shirts & one Hogwarts scarf): 

From left Nicole, David, Gayatri, Lisette, me, & Rick (the radical)

And, to finish, my memento from 2011 that came in damned handy this time (I have several crew members deaf in an ear...sorry!)  I'll put it aside till next time.  Somewhere, sometime.  

Bob and Dorothy Go to Bermuda

[note: one comment wonders about cars; there are NO car rentals in Bermuda.  Zero.  Nada.  You can rent a scooter...we did in '08.  But decided it was both too expensive (if you get free rides, especially), and we probably weren't "scooter" types in '08 and considerably less so now :) & I was told that if I even asked about golf clubs going, there'd be no next anniversary ):  I got the hint.]

I was told that I MUST write a blog about our trip to Bermuda!

My response had something to do with lack of comic elements, but that notion has been nixed and now --

As for the title, continuing the now lengthy tradition of the Bob and Bing road movies, though indicating there was no Bing (so far less straight lines).  It also assumes Bob ends up with Dorothy, which I don't think is how those movies turn out.

Opening joke: more than one person has had trouble with which Caribbean island we (or others) was going to "Bahamas, Barbados, Belize..." --

So, it might not have been all that funny, or maybe it was, that our cab driver greets us with "Welcome to Barbados."  This was his idea of opening schtick.  :)

This was our second trip to Bermuda -- the other also a long weekend in the late summer after I first became APSCUF president.  There was disagreement on whether it was August or September -- since I never win one of these, but also don't concede, I think I know which it is -- but that doesn't matter.

We loved it.

We got in at 1:30 Bermuda time (which isn't the same as when they say "island time") -- and were able to get to the beach (yes air quotes here) nearest the apartment.  You can see from this shot that it's a lovely *little* cove, but not much to it.

Then back to the apartment, which is in central Hamilton (by far the largest city on the islands), and an easy walk to things downtown.

To know about the apartment -- it was more of a suite -- a bedroom, with a TV over the foot of the bed, the bed with one side against the wall (think crawling over someone in the middle of the night, if you are middle aged), a dresser, a comfy chair and stool, and a bathroom with a very nice, but only a, shower.  Cozy.  But comfortable.  We, unlike every house shopper on HGTV, weren't preparing for company.  We shared a patio with the other apartment in the house and a young couple from Italy -- she spoke maybe 3 words of English -- had just come in Friday morning.

For dinner we decided on the Italian place about three blocks from the apartment.  The food porn is of Karen's HALF ORDER of carbonara:

After watching some Olympics, we both slept more than 9 hours, then began Saturday's trek.

We had taken the bus out to the cove on Friday, so knew where to go on Saturday when Karen decided to go to Horseshoe Bay, which regularly ranked in the best beaches in the world.  It's on the south shore (the island tilt from northeast to southwest, so the south shore is the part most aimed to the open ocean) and was advertised as a 25 minute bus ride.

It wasn't so much the bus ride as the hike from the main road and bus stop down, DOWN, to the beach.  More on that later (remember, what goes down, must come up...or something like that, right?)

We arrived at the beach at the same time, of course, as OUR bus colleagues, most of whom got off with us, and there were several smaller coaches passing us into the parking lot as we arrived!  I don't know how long I waited in line -- the guy behind me, a New Yawker by accent, and I decided there was money in renting chairs and umbrellas (little did either of us know! see Sunday!) -- maybe 45 minutes.  It was such a madhouse that I put our own umbrella in (fortunately I had to take no abuse because it stayed up the whole day -- the pros were using a battery-powered drill with a two foot long bit!).

And then we had drinks --

On the left is a rum swizzle.  It's supposed to have ginger beer (that's what's in the other hand) and rum and it seems pineapple juice is a component.  They sell the mixer in the duty free shop on the way off island.

The pictures (Dorothy says) won't do Horseshoe Bay justice.  Just so you know, all the professionals claim the sand is pink -- and explain why.  If you get it from the pictures, good for you.  It's nice, soft and effin' hot, but pink...not so much.

That's a view to the east -- we explored out that way and here's one of the wonderful shots of that scenery --

Or this one --

Or...

No, it's not pretty.  The water is very clear, and you can see the color.  And it was 85ish every day, got down to like 78 every night (yeah, big temperature variation there) -- perfect for the beach.  And the water was 81º.  No, not the 61º of Cape Cod of 3 weeks ago.

We found out that all the people on the beach were from a cruise ship --which explained why almost everyone around us had these blue-purple towels.  About 3, they all left!  Had to be back on ship by 4 to leave.  A lot of ships come there, it seems.

Now, for the story of the weekend (maybe), on the way back from the walk, "Dorothy" says she's going in the water.  She's gone a long time and I see her out with two other heads bobbing -- clearly talking.  Well, she comes in and tells me about this couple, etc, etc.  Those familiar with her will recognize this -- an exchange of life stories.

Did I mention the road down from the bus stop?  Well, I drug her off the beach (she says her claw marks are still there -- did I mention the beauty, the warm water, the drinks?) about 4 and we began the long, hot climb up the hill.  We weren't out of the parking lot (literally) when she stopped and told me to go on and she'd be there soon.  Well, a car pulls over and says "want a ride?"  It was that couple, who were the local minister and his wife.  After 35 years of chatting people up, I finally see the upside.

They were very nice and drove us into Hamilton, avoiding the 25 minute bus ride (let alone the wait for the bus) back.  Kudos to the Mrs.  Oh, yes, I didn't mention this in all this, but this trip was for our anniversary.  Since I stopped celebrating birthdays, we won't go into numbers.  But this was "a lot" and a number divisible by 5.

Then to a place not two blocks from our apartment for dinner -- the Mad Hatter.  Here's a decor shot --

I had on a flat hat --this year's San Fran model -- and almost took a sombrero rather than it, home!  I was told that sombrero wasn't really the "island look."

To go along with the day, here's their version of the Rum Swizzle, which has a lot more coconut taste --

And here are Karen (aka Dorothy)'s meals, the risotto appetizer, and the hoof and feathers --

Sunday my organizer decided to change beaches again, going to Elbow Beach, which is the nearest south shore beach to Hamilton.  We had breakfast (there are photos from the French place on this link) and then decided to take a taxi.   The driver (another chatty MF) took us to the private beach, then we said we were actually going to the public one.

But we weren't.

We had no umbrella or chairs.  So we walked onto the private beach, (there are pictures of the accoutrements) and I got out the Visa card and paid.  It was many times what the umbrella and chairs were Saturday!  Ouch!  But we got a guy who came and brought us drinks, then dinner.

But it was beautiful, again!

At the end of the day, rather than the long walk up the hill (again) there was a taxi sitting outside the beachside restaurant and we took it!

Dinner was again at the Italian place -- which we liked and not many places were open -- did I mention, the Mad Hatter was tres expensive? -- and had excellent food.

Then back to the flat, avoiding the lizards (did I mention them? there's one photo of a small one, but one regularly attended our entrance to the apartment), or the frogs, which chirped loudly, but which I told her were big crickets. :)

We spent our last few ours having brunch (French place again), shopping -- you can see some of the things on t-shirts we didn't buy -- and then to the plane.

Worth noting: both children got Bermuda shorts for a gift.  Since one has seen hers, she knows they are madras.  We won't mention his until he receives them.  Yes, they are a thing.  The waiters at the Italian restaurant wore them, in various bright, pastel shades, with dress shirts.  And we saw people going into work with that attire on, too.  Into business offices.

So, that was our anniversary trip to Bermuda.  If it weren't for the lizards, I'm not sure anything was funny.  Right?

How the Real Players Do It; or Lost in New Jersey

Thursday, Ian and I went to the PGA championship at Baltusrol (in the ritzy suburbs of northern New Jersey).  It was fun, but hot and tiring.

Baltusrol is holding like it's 20th major competition, including, I think the film that was on a loop on the bus said, the first PGA back in 1916.  Jack Nicklaus won 2 US Opens there, which is enough to give the place the imprimatur of class.

We got out of the house at 6:30, having been warned the Google Maps 2 hour 15 minute ride was many minutes more due to traffic.  I cut across New Jersey on 46 to 31 (if you know this track), and came to a crashing halt (see red on the Google map) as we merged onto 78.  It cleared some, but it was heavy from there all the way to the parking lot.

Half the fun of all this is parking, then shuttling to the course.  We parked in south Jersey and shuttled to the course, which was "only" 20 minutes going -- two loops of the film on the nice, air conditioned (a big plus going back) coach bus.

We first made our way to the signature hole, #4, a par 3 over water, with a stone wall holding up the green (and in play).  This pic should give you the impression.

You can see the flag (just over the TV guy in blue's head) is close to the wall and water.  Jason Day, for one, just barely cleared it on his shot in.  He made the putt for birdie.

We watched like 6 groups come through, finishing with the group with Day, Phil, and Rory.  Ian hates Rory; I like Phil.  I think he kind of likes Day, but he's more of a Fowler, Thomas, DJ kind of guy.

We followed that group up five, then six, where Phil, putting first, made his putt and the other two, with easier putts, missed.  Surprising.

It was lunch time and we went for merchandise and food.

If you've never been to one of these (Ian and I went to the President's Cup 3 years ago in Columbus), the merchandise tent is huge.  Yes, probably 300 feet by 60 -- essentially a football field -- with more shirts, caps, towels, etc, saying "PGA Baltusrol" with either the trophy (the Wanamaker Cup) or the Baltusrol logo (two yellow wings with a circled B in the middle) than you can imagine.  Shirts by Polo, UnderArmor, Cutter and Buck, Nike, Adidas, and Greg Norman (I'm probably missing some).  I spent more on merchandise than I did on tickets to the event.

Then we tried to follow Jordan Spieth's group.   If you could get near them.  Here's one shot of his group on the green --

If you can't tell, there was quite a crowd around them, so we couldn't get very close.  So, we waited two groups to follow Dustin Johnson (DJ), who rewarded us by making back-to-back bogeys and generally looking around the greens like a man who had no clue.  On the 6th hole, he hit it long, over the green, not ten feet from where we were standing on a path.  As he stood over it, and I was watching him, a cart came through the crowd and ran onto one of my feet!  I said "ouch!" fairly loud, then he drove on and drove over the other one!!!  No one in the cart even said a word -- no "sorry," nothing.  Ian said the woman in the back looked down and saw it sitting on my foot, but didn't say a word!!!  I survived, but that was more fun than I hoped for.

Then came the real excitement of the day.  Ian's phone, which has its issues, was dead, so he rented a charging block from a tent along 17.  Cost him $10.  But he couldn't get it to work right.  So, he had no phone (this is important in a moment).  When we decided after following Spieth (again) through 12 (where Bubba Watson, playing with Spieth, hit his tee shot to 18 inches and then missed the putt!!!) and we decided it was after 4 o'clock, we were tired, had seen the course, etc.  So, we decided to head home.  I said I would meet him at the gate (there was only one for the hoi polloi) & he could go to the booth, return the block, etc.   I thought he might stay and find another charger to charge up enough to get to the car.

Forty-five minutes of waiting by the gate later...

Meanwhile, there was this ice cream stand.

I was told these are popular with the ten-year-old crowd.  "You must be young of heart."  Okay, let's go with that.

Finally, I see Ian, who is outside the gate (!!!) and we walk the half mile or so to the bus (I'm now up to 19,000 steps for the day -- my heart is twice as healthy this day as the recommended steps), with him telling me how long he waited on me, and went to the bus stop, etc.  I tell him that I was where I told him to meet me while he was wandering around -- I wasn't leaving the grounds without him (you couldn't come back in).  Ah, well, I found him.

And, for the final indignity: the ride back on the bus took over an hour!  Google maps showed red; the guy in front of me said they were taking a route 20 minutes longer than the optimal one.  Of course, the busses were surely assigned a route and they weren't supposed to deviate from it.

Then we made the almost 3 hour ride home -- it was 10:30 before we got home, making it a 16 hour day (is my math right?)

It was fun.  It's great to see people play the way those guys play -- they hit the ball so long and pure, and they putt so great.  They make 30, 40 footers like it's nothing, and they are doing it on greens they have only played a day or two.  It's a mystery.

Till another "vacation"...

Party on Cape Cod

It seems my in-laws have decided that if we come to stay with them, I need to "write a blog" about it.  In other words, it seems I am condemned to write a review of the accommodations (if not the company) of my various in-laws (insightful readers will recognize that I have no siblings of my own, so I have no such worries.  It is one reason, I say, to NOT have siblings.  Thanks Mom and Dad!)

I refuse to compare vacations with my in-laws.  Refuse.

So, what do I write?  Let's start with pablum #1 -- the classic sunset over the water pic, taken this past weekend during a quick visit to Orleans, which is on the elbow (as they like to describe it) of Cape Cod.

We were there for the annual party held by brother-in-law Butch (famed from these blog posts) and his wife, Peggy, who have a cottage there that is part of her father's property.  It is a mile+ (according to Google maps) from Nauset Beach.  A bit more on that later.

The party included a bunch of cousins and even Uncle David and Aunt Mary (the youngest uncle and aunt).  It was not a wild good time, but a good time nonetheless.  There was Butch's famous pork barbeque and either Budweiser or Coors Light to drink (if you didn't bring your own; some did).

The blog-worthy highlight were stories about Grampa.  Grampa John was born in Osterville (again, for the geography challenged, in the center of the Cape on the south side) and knew everyone, having worked first in landscaping, then in cranberries, sitting on the Ocean Spray board (it's a coop) for some years.

So here's the story worth repeating here:  Uncle David tells it.  It was winter and he was down to "the house" (a large place with a view of East Bay across the road) to hang out with Grampa.  It had been a cold night and then the tide went out on the bay.  The oysters clung to the grass in the cold as the water receded and Grampa said "let's go down and get them oysters."  David was out pulling off the second bucket full when the local Game and Fish Warden pulled up.

"John, you got a license to harvest those?"  Of course, like everyone around, he knew Grampa.

"No," he shot back.

"Well, John, you can't be taking them oysters then."  (You should be hearing a strong New England accent -- that's how David told it and Grampa had one)

"Nevermind that," Grampa said.

"John, really, you can't be taking those oysters."

"What are you, an idiot?" Grampa responded, seemingly with his voice raised a bit.

David said they had oyster stew that night.  Seems Grampa convinced the idiot that the oysters were going to die anyway...

That was Grampa. Not a man to back off or speak anything but straight.

That day and the next we went to Nauset Beach.  Here's the requisite sandy beach picture --

And, then, there was this -- kind of kept you from going out very far ( how many times did I hear "we're gonna need a bigger boat"??!?!?!) --

And then the 8 hours home.

Even the Food Porn is Bigger (if not better) in Texas

Well, Readers, I wasn't going to blog again, but, after our brunch experience today (Father's Day), I was told I had to blog about it.

What happened to yesterday? Well, you know there was U.S. Open golf on for 14 hours, right?  John and I watched almost all of the 14 hours.

Breakfast was from Buc-ees.  John keeps pronouncing it like "Bucky's," but you see the spelling.  eeeeeeessss...

I took a picture.  I called it an oversized convenience store.  John said people lay out their trips so they can stop at one.  It's called culture. :)

Then golf.

Then we had Thai fusion for dinner.  The pictures are on this link -- it's almost all food porn.

But the highlight of the trip will be brunch.

As it seems I am known to do, I "found this place on Yelp."  It got 4 1/2 stars for brunch.  And the reviews said "you have to try the pineapple upside down pancakes."  Whoa!

John had another idea: a "hole-in-the-wall" in a nearby town that does good food.  He claimed.  But he agreed to go to my place so he could have "complaining rights."

Well, getting there was an adventure.  Cross country, Googly saying you could go left or right at one point!  and not lose any time!  How can that be?

Then we turned into "Hicks Airport."  You can't make this up, right?

And then we get there -- there was a full parking lot and a line and a 50 minute wait!

Here's the picture, because, of course at a cafe in Hicks Airport, you have to have an airplane parking lot.   Of course!

We got in quicker than the 50 minute wait and found a buffet!

Of course, it's Texas, so a Sunday brunch buffet includes not just pancake and omelet stations, but beans and ribs and brisket to go in your omelet.

And then there's the famed (rightly) pineapple upside down pancake.  You're given syrup with it and told to try it without -- you won't need it.  We didn't.

It was delicious.

And, now, it's Father's Day.  The U.S. Open traditionally finishes on Father's Day. TV on, a/c on (the RealFeel outside is a mere 105), and we are falling into our food coma.  :)

Have a good one!

Last Day (and hotel reviews)

Dear Reader,

This is the last blog of the 2016 California trip (though not the end of our trip, but the motto, I hear, is what happens in Texas stays in Texas), but it covers beautiful sights, food porn galore, and even wild animals (and not Michael).

But first, for your information, the hotel review.

We stayed in 7 different hotels (the cabin in Yosemite we’ll ignore).  I will remind you all that I have a criteria for a quality hotel (3+ stars) that includes glass glasses (redundant?), thick towels, firm beds, a choice of pillows, and quality WiFi.

Here’s a damning comment: I slept on a rolled up towel for 3 nights at the hotel in Anaheim. 

The best hotel was the first, the Hyatt at the airport in San Francisco, though the last, the Sheraton at the marina in San Diego, was very close.  Both had all the above amenities, though the Sheraton had the Wifi that asks you to reconnect if you don’t use it for like 30 seconds.  A PITA. 

I liked the Radisson in Fresno, which was a sudden, late night change the night before.  It had all the amenities, and a good price.  But it WAS in Fresno.  We were not impressed with what we saw of the Central Valley cities.

Probably next was the Country Inn & Suites, which I don’t think I’d ever stayed in before, in Ventura.  It was a late addition, too, done a few days before leaving in a swap for the Radisson in Santa Maria – 2 hours closer to the ballpark and LA for the next day.  It was good, and a decent price at $129, but both the other three were better, for about the same money.

The Clarion in Ridgecrest and the Stanford in Anaheim were close.  We stayed at both for a combination of convenience and price (there weren’t a lot of 3 star options in Ridgecrest, on the edge of the desert).  Neither had glass glasses though both had a breakfast that wasn’t bad.  (can’t say that about the Country Inn).

Dead last was the San Simeon Lodge.  It was close to Hearst Castle and across the street from the ocean.  But the bed was horrible, the light fixtures were missing light bulbs, the heat didn’t work (it was 50 the morning we left), and it wasn’t the least expensive place we stayed (the Clarion was, not surprisingly). 

Now, to the last day plus in San Diego.

Yesterday we spent the day in Balboa Park.  Here’s a picture of the iconic tower, which has no bell (we found out) – the symbol of the city.

The park was built for the 1915 Panama-California Exposition.  San Diego beat out San Fran to host, back when San Fran was ten times larger.  The buildings are. a mix of mission and stucco style (as you can see), in a conscious attempt to get away from the more classical architecture of other American expositions. 

We saw the Old Globe, which Michael says is big in theatre history, but got no tour.

Then visited the Museum of Man, which had exhibits on Beer through history and human evolution and mummies.  I saw enough skulls to keep me for the rest of my life.

We then agreed that the Air and Space Museum had appeal (there are 14 museums in the park).  Michael, Karen and I spent much time in the DaVinci special exhibit (Karen and I dozed through some of the film showing there), and Michael found Barb dozing in front of Tora, Tora, Tora.  Yes, it seems we were all tired.

Then to hotel to swim and clean up for dinner.

For dinner, we went to Coronado, which is an island off San Diego.  Here’s the view as we started dinner.

The menu was good.  Both Barb and Karen had surf and turf; Michael and I had the halibut.  We got comped dessert (pineapple upside down cake and bananas foster bread pudding) because they overcooked Karen’s steak.  Barb told the waiter so. :)

Then back to the Slavins’s suite for cards, where, once again, Michael and Karen swept us, with Michael yet again (who can believe it?!?!?!) complaining about not getting cards.  Right.

This morning, Karen and I took the car downtown and had brunch at the Broken Yolk – motto “we have huevos” – where it turns out we had brunch in 2010 during our “junket” there. 

Then we shot up I-5 to La Jolla, to see the seals. (not to be confused with sea lions, or elephant seals…I’m not sure how or why).  Here’s a shot of them on the rocks just below us.  You can see from the pictures in the LINK that the place was gorgeous.  But the biggest memory may be how gamey the seals smelt…the odor was strong even as you got out of the car!

We stopped at Torrey Pines golf course, where they’ve held one US Open and where they’ll return in 2021 (there were both signs and t-shirts) so here’s a pic of there.

And then to Texas, Dallas, to visit the much famed John from the Scotland blog and his wife Lanissa.  There’s been talk of a trip to Waco (has something to do with HGTV), pub crawls through Fort Worth, and some golf viewing (ironically, the US Open is in PA this weekend).

And there it is.  Thanks for going along for the ride, and thanks to Michael and Barb for being the best travel companions.  Farewell.

Wildlife...and the Zoo

Hi, Readers, we are about to run out of days, but yesterday was another good one.

We started with the drive from Anaheim to San Diego.  In what has happened before, somehow Michael, driving, and his navigator, whose name I will not mention, missed some maneuver and instead of "just staying on I-5" (the navigator and Googly's instructions), we decided to see some beachfront communities.  In the end, we didn't waste too many minutes, but there was much discussion of who screwed up -- the backseat seemed to throw the navigator under the Hyundai SUV -- and away we went.

In San Diego, we went straight to the zoo.  It IS the best zoo in the world.  Period.  I heard one of the staff there say "it's only 120 acres."  It seems bigger.

Let's start with the classic San Diego zoo photo:

Neither panda was awake.

But then I got this souvenir, which was worth the $10. :)

Pongo enjoyed the ride. :)  Dr. Slavin, not so much. :)

I always enjoy the tiger -- there are two pretty good pics.
And Karen's favorite, here's the few weeks old giraffe.  He's not quite 6 feet tall.

The funniest moment (I remember) was on the people mover, up the hill (saving us steps).  In a moment of ineptitude, I caught my foot against the running board and tried to roll down the people mover.  Karen caught me to keep me from hitting the ground.  I heard about this for the rest of the day.  And dinner.

We checked into the very nice hotel -- the Sheraton at the marina -- across the road from the airport (convenient for tomorrow's exit) and Karen and I got in the hot tub just outside our room.

Michael and Barb, on the other hand, upgraded "to a suite." You know, how the 1% lives.  BTW, Michael likes to read the Wall Street Journal.  He's a liberal elitist snob. :) (and it's MY blog :))

Then to the gaslamp district for dinner.  The gaslamp is a part of old San Diego that has been revived with restaurants, clubs, etc, and has people milling around till all hours.  I saw a sign advertising 40 restaurants.

We ate at a place that claimed to be the best Mexican place in the district.  Michael said it was the best Mexican food he'd ever eaten.  My phone gave out so there's not much food porn, but here are the appetizers -- shrimp tostada and the guac, which was excellent.  And we had drinks (me a strawberry frozen margarita) before dinner.  HERE'S the LINK

Then we walked around the block (from 4th to 5th st) to this gelato place.  Michael said "I've had more ice cream on this trip than I've had..." and I said "you didn't have ice cream." :)

Then back to "the suite" to play cards.  Michael whined (with charcuterie) about not catching cards as he and Karen won two straight games!  I showed how to be a bad loser, as well as how to be a bad winner. :)

And now, one full day left. Pout.  Ah, well...someone has to go back to work.  I'm not sure who.