Crunchy Thoughts

Two and a half years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to take a vacation on a cruise ship with Steven and his family, courtesy his grandparents and their 50th anniversary celebration plans. Our ship, docked in New Orleans, floated us down the Mississippi and out into the Gulf of Mexico, headed for Cancun and the Yucatan peninsula.

The trip itself was wonderful. I have a fondness for boats and I enjoyed that experience even more so than my venture into Mexico. It amazed me how much wind could be generated by a slow-moving cruise ship and I was very thankful for my trench coat and the nonstop flow of coffee.

I was also glad to see New Orleans again. When I was a child my family and I took numerous weekend trips there since my dad’s Navy Reserve squadron was stationed nearby. I know parts of New Orleans isn’t the best of cities but Cathy and I only knew the good parts: the La Quinta Inn near the big American flag and, naturally, the French Quarter, where you could buy a fake ice cube with a fly in it to freak out your mother later on.

We only were in New Orleans for a few hours before boarding our ship; after all, that was the true reason we were there. When we arrived back in town after our boarding adventure, we were greeted with a gloomy city that had seen a good rainfall just a few hours before and the clouds were threatening to have another go.

After we disembarked, I found out the plan was to immediately start heading back to Alabama. Well, I thought it a sin to be in New Orleans and not even go by the Café du Monde, so I talked Steven’s parents into taking a short jaunt down to the Quarter, despite the gloominess.

So that is how we ended up under the awning of the Café du Monde on a chilly, wet February morning, partaking in an early lunch of chicory coffee and warm beignets. We walked by Jackson Square and saw the St. Louis Cathedral, which was unshamefully covered in scaffolding — ahh, they heard I was visiting.

As we were driving away, full and satisfied, Steven’s parents remarked on how much they enjoyed our brief visit to the Quarter and they were very glad I had mentioned the idea.

I’m glad I mentioned it, too.

Last night I finished reading a book I had just started 48 hours before — it had me enthralled from the first page. Books usually don’t make me cry but this one did, so I’m sitting in the living room, looking at the last page of the book and just blubbering.

Steven walks in to ask me if I remembered a french bread recipe we made before, sees me with the book, and asks, “Do you need a hug?”

I nod yes, and he comes up and holds me until my crying subsides. Steven is used to me being emotional over silly things like books, and I am just so thankful for him.

And I am so glad he’s not a time traveler.

I was at the doctor’s office again this afternoon, talking with my physician about different options we can take on dealing with my crazy headaches. I’ve been trying to tackle the headache problem for some six years now, and this is the first doctor that is making the effort to truly locate the cause. We’ve done the blood tests, fiddled with the blood pressure, and even tested 24 hours’ worth of my pee, which was oh-so-fun. So what next?

DOCTOR: I think we should get a brain scan done; a CAT scan just to rule out anything that is very unlikely lurking about in there, well, besides the brain . . .

ME: I hope I have a brain!

DOCTOR: (chuckles) Well, we’ll find out. So let’s get a scan done sometime this week.

ME: Cool!

And so the Science Nerd’s curiosity is piqued. Thursday will be fun!

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And Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

Have you ever tried to hear English without actually understanding it? If one has spoken English all their life, it is very hard to do. When you hear someone speaking French you can usually tell it is so without understanding what the person is saying. It is the same thing with recognizing German, Spanish, Russian, or Italian, though I can confuse that one with French sometimes. They each have their own distinctive sound: French and Italian sound smooth and flowing while German and Russian are more staccato and reminds me of the military for some odd reason.

But what does English sound like to those who can’t actually understand it? It’s a difficult task but I managed it once in my life. There was a lady talking and for a brief moment or two I actually heard her speaking without understanding the words. It was a surreal moment that was gone again in a flash.

So what did English sound like to me right then?

It sounded like German.

He’s been back for years but I’m just now visiting.

I’m in Birmingham today!