Randy, my closest Canadian friend

So we’re in Cabo. We get up in the morning and head down to the breakfast buffet at around 8:30 – 9:00. I know you’re thinking that’s way too early to be getting up on vacation, but for some reason we were up, so why not.

Anyway, we’d go down, eat breakfast then head out and find a chair by one of the pools. PTH (Prime Tanning Hours) are 10:00am – 2:00pm, so we pretty much had that covered.

But back to breakfast. The buffet breakfast ended at like 11:30, so we were by far some of the first ones there, and the large room was pretty much empty when we were there. Don’t get me wrong, there were people, but the size of the room allowed for people to be seated fairly far apart.

We sit down, order our juice and coffee, then we head over to get our food. Did I mention it was all included? It was kind of like being on cruise, only without the lifeboat drill and the constant rocking…but I digress.

When we get back to our table, it was a two-topper with a second two-topper only inches away that could easily be pulled together to accommodate a party of four, there are two people sitting at the table only inches from our own. A bit of a surprise, with all the other tables around, but I just shrugged and said hello.

Randy and his wife, whose name I can’t remember were fun breakfast companions. Randy is about six foot-five, with a white flattop and one of those black cable design tattoos on his arm.

They’re from Canada and so the weather was extremely different for them. We were laughing about something when Randy told me I look like his doctor back home. So from then on whenever we ran into our new Canadian buddies, Randy called me Doc.

After breakfast we were sitting by the pool when I said, “You know, Randy is probably my closest Canadian friend.”

We both laughed and I had the strange desire to say…

”No way eh?”

You Just Can’t Tell About Some People

Melissa and I spent a few days at an all-inclusive resort called Riu Palace in Cabo San Lucas. I had never been to an all-inclusive resort before, so I was a wee-bit skeptical. I mean, they tell you EVERYTHING is included and you start to wonder. My first question was, “Do they mean food, drinks, shows, everything? Or, do they mean everything as in the bed and the bathroom and the sheets and the pillows, everything?”

However, this post isn’t about the legitimacy of the “Everything’s included” promise, but suffice it to say, “Yes!” everything was included.

I want to tell you about the most unexpected and probably the most incredible thing I witnessed on the entire trip.

Allow me to set the scene:

Melissa and I had taken the 20-minute cab ride into Cabo San Lucas to have dinner and look around. Melissa had done some research and found a couple of restaurants we decide to look for, but after asking our driver about them he suggested a place called Pancho’s.

Now in Texas, Pancho’s is a chain restaurant known for its inexpensive, semi-edible Mexican, or rather Tex-Mex food. It’s a buffet style with a Mexican flag on each table that you raise when you need your waiter to bring you more food, or more drinks, or more anything. In college, because of the prices, my roommates and I went several times a week. These days, however, it’s not a place I frequent.

That being said, we were both a bit reluctant to take our new friend’s dining advice. He said he could drop us off at Pancho’s and there were different restaurants all around and we could choose after he let us off. So we agreed on Pancho’s.

I couldn’t imagine Pancho’s Mexican Buffet from Texas had a location in Cabo, but we had already driven past a Home Depot, a Bridgestone Tire, a Blockbuster video, and of course a Starbuck's so I had still had my doubts.

As we pulled up in front, it was easy to tell that this Pancho’s had nothing more than spelling in common with his Pancho’s neighbor to the north. Needless to say we were very happy.

The food was wonderful, but that’s also not the incredible thing that happened.

We had been there probably fifteen to twenty minutes, when this very large and very loud group of Americans came in and were seated at three tables pulled together right next to us. There were at least five couples, plus about eight kids between the ages of five and twelve. Turns out it was the birthday of one of the ladies. A very loud, very blond, very busty lady.

Our first thought was, “Is it too late to move?”

We had drinks and our food was on its way, so we just decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

We were sitting there being both amused and repulsed by our new neighbors. I’m mean we’re sitting in this place full of people, where about half to three-fourths appear to be local residents and I was suddenly very embarrassed to be an American. We were trying to pick up any hints about where these people might be from and praying it wasn’t Texas.

Right about then a small girl, maybe eight years old, with a plastic tray full of about 20 little bobble head toys walked up to our window, held up the tray, kind of half shrugged and in a very timid voice said, “Three for Five?” Melissa was mesmerized with the goings on of our American friends and wasn’t looking, so I gestured for her to wait while I turned to get Melissa’s attention.

I guess the little girl thought I was telling her to leave, because when I turned back she had moved do to the window by the loud table.

At this point there was a shift in the Force, and I rediscovered that you just can’t tell about some people.

One of the men in the loud group, who was sitting next to the window, saw the girl, stood up and started yelling for his group to, “Shut the F**K UP!” He took the girl’s tray, quickly counted the toys and yelled, “Let’s just give her 40 bucks for the whole tray!” He glanced over at us and Melissa didn’t hesitate to let him know that we wanted in. He handed Melissa the tray and I dug out eight dollars.

Melissa picked the three she wanted, then he dumped the tray on their table an handed it back to the girl with the cash.

With a tear in my eye, I walked over to shake this guys hand. Turns out they’re from Orange County California. I was little embarrassed to tell the guy that saying, “I’m from Orange County”, didn’t tell me a thing about where they were from, so I just gave an approving head bob.

The rest of the evening was very enjoyable. Suddenly, our new Orange County friends didn’t seem all that loud anymore. Well, except for the busty birthday girl, but then she spent most of the night at the bar. A fact that made both us and most of her group very happy.

Like I said, you just can’t tell about some people.

But sometimes that’s okay.

My Car Got Hit...

Yesterday, I’m running some errands with my daughter and we stop at Walgreen’s to pick up a prescription plus some last minute camp things for her. We walk out door and the first thing I notice is a huge white scrape down the back of my car.

I was livid!

I don’t know how you are about your cars, but taking care of mine is a big deal to me. I might go for weeks without washing them, but that’s about it. I think it comes from working as a mechanic in high school and college, but the fact of the matter is things like this on cars is a HUGE deal to me.

I get to the front of my car…there’s no note from a sorry and regretful driver. There is nothing or no one anywhere around. After being calmed down by my daughter, thank you Macy for keeping me from flying off the handle, I angrily, but calmly drove home. If she hadn’t been there I probably would have gotten a speeding ticket too…so thanks again.

When I got home I reassessed the damage and found not only scrapes, but also a nice sized dent just behind the door. The fact that the dent has two creases going in different directions suggests that this person (and I use that term lightly) hit my car, stopped and had to readjust their wheels and then move again. This is on the passenger side of my vehicle, so there is no way this person didn’t know they had hit my car.

I’ve only hit a car in a parking lot one time. However, I managed to find a scrap of paper and leave the guy my name and phone number. He called a day or two later and was so impressed that I had left my name that he said just forget about it. It was an old truck with several other dings, but I left my information all the same.

Now for the “glass half full” assessment:

1. The damage goes right up to the door, but the door only has a small scratch. Damage on doors usually hikes up the price of repair.
2. Also, after using some rubbing compound to clean the white paint off, the once glaring, almost neon, blemish on the side of my SUV is now only marginally noticeable.

BUT IT’S STILL THERE!!!

Next week I’ll go to Herb’s Paint and Body to get an estimate, then decide if I even want to speak with my insurance company. I can’t imagine I will, but you never know.

And to the “person” who hit my car:

If by some strange and quirky twist of fate you actually can read, and you actually happen across my blog, and actually are able to figure out that I am talking about you, and you actually feel some remorse for the grief you have caused me…

Don’t call, don’t write, don’t try to contact my in any way. You see, with me, it is too late to do the right thing. You missed that chance when you drove off without leaving a note.

However, what you can do is this. The next time you hit a car in a parking lot, take the high road and leave THAT person a note.

This is the only apology I will accept.

Just me on my soapbox.

Thanks for reading.

Don't Mess with Texas

Have you ever been driving somewhere when you get a really fun idea? It happened to me just the other day.

Don’t Mess with Texas is an anti-litter campaign that was started several years ago. There are signs and billboards on the highways, bumper stickers and even t-shirts with this logo. I don’t know how successful the campaign has been in reducing litter, but it is highly recognizable by most Texans.

A few days ago Melissa and I are in the car when we see a big SUV in front of us with not one, not two, but three Don’t Mess with Texas bumper stickers…and of course I start wondering about the driver of this car.

I imagine he was thinking something like this, “If I put only one or two of these stickers on my car people might not pay attention and really stop littering, BUT if I have three stickers in a line across the back, then that is sure to make a difference.”

I mention something along those lines to Melissa and we chuckle a bit. It could have stopped there, but the antagonist within me took over and here’s what came next.

At the next light, we pulled up next to this guy and I rolled my window down. Just as the light turned green, I tossed my mostly empty Starbuck’s cup right at his car. It hits at eye level on the passenger’s side windshield and slides across to the driver’s side with coffee splashing out as it went. It bounces off the windshield wiper and rolls down the hood. That’s when I wave and hit the gas.

Now, before you start thinking that I’m crazy, or some kind of monster, let me assure you that while the events mentioned above did both cross my mind and bring a smile to my face, they never actually happened. Yes, common sense mixed with a healthy dose of self-preservation kept me from seriously considering my trashy idea. (Pun intended) I mean for all I know this guy was a pistol packing, anti-litter vigilante with a chip on his shoulder.

But you have to admit…it would have been funny.

Picky Trash-man???

Dallas has those big grey cans that either gets grabbed via remote-control by the driver then hoisted up and dumped, or they have a couple of guys who pull the cans over to a lift on the back of the truck.

In our old neighborhood, we had the driver/remote-control system and it didn’t matter what I put in that can. As long as the top closed, I could have put a person in there and nobody would be the wiser. (I’m not admitting to anything here, I’m just saying…)

In our new neighborhood, we have the guys pulling cans to the truck.

So I’m heading down the driveway just as the trash truck pulls up to empty our can. They’re blocking the driveway, so I just sit in my car and watch.

The guy gets to our can, opens it and looks inside. He shoots a half-frown glance in my direction, then reaches in and pulls out some pieces of wood and throws them on the sidewalk. Next, shaking his head, he yanks my can over to the lift on the truck.

I was dumbfounded.

By definition trash is: discarded, unwanted, or worthless material or objects.

This was a trash-man working on a trash-truck, does he get to decide (for me) what materials or objects are worthless or unwanted? Or shouldn’t he, by definition, simply pick up the objects I deem to be “trash” and haul them away?

The gauntlet has been thrown down, but I promise you this…somehow, someway these few boards I have WILL be taken by this picky trash-man.

Once again, I’ll keep you posted.

Month to Month

We recently moved into a new house and we all love it. The new house has a family room and we had to buy some new furniture. The sofa we bought has six, 36 inch square pieces. Three of the squares have a back on one of the four sides, two of them have a back on two of the sides that forms a corner, and one piece has no back at all.

When we first picked them out I had the idea of having a different pattern for each month of the year. That way we’d always know what month it is based on the arrangement of our sofa. We kind of laughed about it, but in the back of my mind I thought, “Hmmm, could I really do this?”

The sofa arrived on about the 15^th of May and we set it up like the pictures below.

As June was winding down, I just didn’t have the gumption to move anything. I started to see my monthly seating arrangement as nothing more than a pipe dream. A nice idea, but one that I would never see actually happen.

Then it happened.

I was sitting at home, with all of my honey-do projects finished for the day, when I had a new sofa arrangement vision. It was a work of art! So unconventional, yet so practical, so easy, and so user friendly. Check out the pictures below.

Now I see that I’m going to have to open my mind and let the month’s sofa pattern find me. To tell the truth, August is Melissa’s turn, so I’m sure it will be great.

As for future sofa patterns…I’ll keep you posted!