The Joys of Senior Years

 My "joy" these last few weeks has been intensely personal.  That aneurism in my gut came under scrutiny last spring just before we wandered off to Lignieres for the late spring, summer and a bit of fall.  They firstly greased me up and ultrasonically scanned my belly for the enlarged artery (the aorta) and at the same time my kidneys.  Then off I was sent to get an MRI...but wait!  I was leaving the country on Tuesday and the appointment was scheduled for Wednesday with no other times available before we wandered off.  So, I breathed a deep breath, asked Kelly what she thought and we left as scheduled on the big silver bird.

 Our time in France was filled with Ted, Ashley and Andy and Audrey, not at the same time!  Ash and Andy worked their asses off in the courtyard laying in yet another 2 cu/meters of fine Loire gravel.  I just watched in awe and cooked to keep them fed.  The weather was typical French, warm and humid, the house was cool however, so respite was available for them as they worked.  They stayed 2 weeks and then were gone and the place became very quiet again.

 Ted came a few weeks later, we drove here and there visiting sights and churches, Bourges cathedral and had a jolly good time with him.  Lots of time inside our parlor avoiding the summer canicule (hot days) reading and chatting away the afternoons. Ted, always ready to travel somewhere, found himself somewhat thwarted by his frailty and difficulty in walking.  He stayed with us about 10 days then ran off to visit a friend in Paris and flew home from there.

 In late September Audrey came and stayed 'til early October.  We took her to experience Guédelon Castle, an archeological building project about 2 hours northeast of Lignieres.  It is an amazing scene.  People in period clothes (13th century!) using hand tools made by themselves and with methods as were used in those days are constructing a full sized castle!  A stunning achievement, we've visited it 4 times over the years.  Here's a link for you:  Guedelon Castle.  If you come to France it is a place not to miss.

Out To Sea

 "Call me Tony," he said as we walked by the boats busy with men loading supplies and gear.  I saw up ahead "Arlene S." painted in big block letters on her white hull.  Groceries, fishing poles and other gear was being loaded onto her and stowed here and there.

She was about 50 feet long and stoutly built.  Her hull shined with a new coat of white paint.  I stopped at her berth for a few minutes, and watched the guys load.  Finally Tony said, " Hey guys, this is Howard,  Anne's son, I fetched him from Frankie for the day,"  I smiled and waved hello, they reached out to shake my hand and said,"welcome aboard!"  I replied, "I'm happy to be here," and I was!  I threw down my coat and began helping the men stash the stuff in the wheelhouse and down below where there were others doing the same things.  There was little grumbling, they worked quickly to unpack.  I went back topside to help.

On the aft deck, there were boxes of large chrome plated hooks being opened by a dark-skinned guy, he looked up at me, "I'm Benny," he said.  Alongside him, another man, who just grunted to me, was tieing leaders to the same hooks looped them into a circle and placing them neatly in another bin.  I felt useless among these experienced fishermen.

Soon Benny took me forward towards the bow amidst the fishermen was the owner, the captain.  He was holding a chart and outlining his plan for the hunt.  We were going after Albacore tuna on a trip of, for me, an unknown length.  After a few minutes to captain "Alonzo" looked at me and said, " your going to be our new baitboy, are you?"  "I guess so, yes sir!" "Once we get underway one of the guys will show you what to do."  I'd been accepted and now a member of the good crew of Arlene S.

"I Smell Fish!"

Was the first thing out of my mouth.  Bud had me up early, I mean early.  4am early!  I tore off the tags and labels then slipped on this new pair of jeans my Mom bought me yesterday along with one of Bud's old denim shirts and I was set. These were now my "old" clothes or soon would be!  Out the door we went, into his old Chevy pickup and away we went.  About 15 minutes later we arrived at the Italian fishing fleet off the main drag in San Diego.

The Fleet at rest

The smell of less than fresh fish wafted our way as we walked down the dock.  Many boat slips were empty, their owners and crews had already left though it was only 5am.  The sun hadn't risen yet and here I was being introduced to an old man on a small fishing boat with a mop in his hand.  "Here", "take it," he said, thrusting the mop my way.  "He's your new boss," Bud replied, "Do what he says and you'll be fine, won't he Frankie?"  Frankie replied,"I hope so."  They chatted a while about how the catch was going this season and soon Bud said, "I'm going to go now, you've got our number, call when you're done."  I nodded that I understood and he walked away down the dock towards his truck.  "Where should I start?" I asked and Frankie pointed towards the bow. "Get a bucket, put some soap and bleach in it, not too much,"  pointing at the cabin, "You'll find 'em in there, under the sink.

So here I was cleaning the boat, "learning" in reality as Frankie had his own way to do everything and that was the way it was going to be done.  His was a bait boat, anchovie catcher with big tanks for the catch and a netting rig to get 'em up and into those tanks.  Thousands of them at a time.  These, in turn, were sold to outgoing tuna boats that did line catching, mostly for "Big Eye" and albacore but yellowtail at times too.  The cleanliness fetish was because the anchovies would shed scales and also get crushed underfoot as well and with a bit of summer heat, oh how the boat smelled!  So cleaning was a constant chore, rinse, scrub, soap it down, scrub some more, rinse and do that stem to stern three times every day after a bait run.  I began going out on his bait netting runs after about a week (him seeing if I would last, which I did).  I liked going out and doing the catching, helping with the nets, filling the tanks with fish and tending the screen filters for the pumps that fed the tanks.

One day just after I had arrived at 2am sharp,  a bearded man approached the boat and I looked up at him.  "You the Lute boy?" he asked. "Yes sir," I answered, "Bud said you'd be here at Frankie's boat," he hesitated a second then, " Need a bait-boy on the Arlene S., you up for it?"  I didn't think a second, "Sure am, but I've got to finish the cleaning here first."  Frankie stepped out of the wheelhouse, "Go ahead Howard, I'll finish the cleaning."   I grabbed my coat, put it on and climbed the step ladder to the dock.  I was about to go fishing out on the blue Pacific!

Work? Doing What?!

It was late May 1959, yes I had split knowing full well I was missing the last three weeks of school and would have to make it up.  I sat in the car and listened to the radio until I saw a little red Pontiac pulled up at the curb, my mom got out and walked towards the stairs, I climbed out and exclaimed "Mom!"  She turned around, stared for a second and exclaimed, "Howard!"  We held on to each other on the front sidewalk and kissed.  We went upstairs to sit and chat and for me to explain what had happened to bring me to run away from Selma, school and Hazel (last but not least).

Hazel, my grandmother, had agreed to take me in when my mother and father got a divorce after some 10 years of marriage. I was nearly 8 years old in June of 1951 when I and my mom came to Hazel and Harold's farmhouse a couple of miles north of the little town of Selma, California.  Then she left for San Diego.  I missed her so badly for some months that I cried myself to sleep each night and mourned her quick smile and laugh each day.  I developed anorexia in 1962, lost much weight and found it hard to keep anything down in spite of Hazel's excellent home cooking.  My trial by starvation lasted thru 1963.  In November she took me to our family doctor who sent us onto a psychiatrist in Fresno who knew the magic and over a long while finally, I could eat, I was 10 years old and weighed 55lbs, the skinniest kid in school.

We lived for three years on the ranch until Kermit, my step-great-grandfather by Harold died at 94 years of age.  The ranch was soon sold and they bought a house on "E" Street in town.  Harold worked at Libby, McNeil, and Libby, a canning plant as an electrician.  Hazel became sick after a time.  A cancer of some deadly kind had taken root and the illness and the side-effects of the drug therapy took ill of our relationship.  She became angry and stern of me and my misdeeds as I grew older.  She hurled anger and hairbrushes at me with great regularity and threatened many times to send me to my mother.  I grew to resent her, talked back, and we argued constantly in a war of words as I entered my teen years in 1956.  My grades, previously exceptional were beginning to drop precipitously.  Harold had his own troubles and remained distant and unconcerned at either my problems or her's with me.  I was alone.

Now I was in San Diego and they wondered of me and the situation that they were in as well as my own.  I spent days reading fishing magazines and whatever other reading materials there were.  My mom began coming home at noon to check on me and make me lunch, something Italian or Greek.  Her last name now was Swanner, her husbands family name.  She called him "Bud".  I got along with him less well than I would have liked.  He was abrupt with me and I paid particular attention to not being messy about the house and cleaning up after myself...thoroughly.  The house had a spacious veranda off the living room that gave a great view of the runways at San Diego International.  Airplanes often flew over the house when landing and it was a thrilling sight.  I would sit for hours and watch the action at the airport and watch the aircraft as they headed for their landings.  I had been there a week when one morning as Bud was drinking his coffee he asked me if I'd like to work and make a little money.  I said, "sure!". He was pleased with my answer and said he'd take me to "the docks" the next day and to wear "old clothes" (of which I had none!).

Another Work...

How I drove through Los Angeles traffic on THOSE "freeways" I'll never know!  I was a VERY inexperienced driver, not yet 16, and had driven few vehicles, none of them stolen, gulp!  I'd driven Harold's old Ford Pickup, a Ford farm tractor and a couple of my friend's cars now and then but never a lot of miles and NEVER in hostile traffic!  This WAS "hostile traffic".  I had a rather old California map and had planned the route in my head in the days proceeding my great escape, but when confronted with the LA freeway system I was confused and at times lost.  As I gained on my goal of San Diego I checked my gas guage, it was near empty and I began looking for a gas station just off the freeway with an off-ramp nearby.  I had but 10 dollars, more than enough to fill the Buick's 20 gallon tank.

OMG!

I saw a Texaco sign in the line of an upcoming off-ramp and moved over and made my way to the station.  Since I had stolen the car from my dad I somewhat feared of being caught.  The car WAS Pink and White after all.  Filled up I looked and found an on-ramp and I was on my way again.  San Diego was less than 2 hours away and I knew nothing of my mother's abode, I had never been there!  I had an address though for I had written her many times over the ensuing years, but her replies were few and far between.  As it turned out she had written and mailed letters to me but for reasons I can only surmise, Hazel hid them from me.  None-the-less I had an address, hoped it was accurate and drove on into the morning light.  San Diego was close now, about 2 hours away!

Closer I drew, all my thoughts were of my mother and how long it had been since I even talked to her.  The last time I held her hand was in 1951 when I was almost 8 years old.  Now I was almost 16.

The morning traffic was similar to LA's but fewer jams and less crowded as well.  I pulled off the highway near the airport and went uphill towards where I had the address, the area called "Banker's Hill" and "Prado Terrace".  Up and down the streets I went looking for somewhere where the airport runway was lined up with it.  I had known this hint from what my mother had said to me a long time ago.  It didn't take me too long and I found myself outside a two story apartment building, all white stucco with a red tile roof in a Spanish style so typical of San Diego.  I checked the address I had and it matched!  As I walked quickly towards the stairs a large 4 engine airliner flew overhead, engines roaring and backfiring as it flew towards the airport runway, I was there!  

More Jobs in...

I let the work life rest.  It was early May with 6 weeks of school left.  I was 15 1/2 yrs old and thoroughly fed up with it.  My grades had dropped back to a D average and I was flat out flunking in English, Spanish and doing "D work" in everything else except my Shop class.  Lazy and friends that were of similar mind and condition, maybe not as awful but still had a big dislike of SUHS.  Hazel was on my ass too and Harold was working so I had no protector.  So one particular late night I summoned up my anger and angst.   Just past midnight I  grabbed Hazel's keys, removed the key for the Buick, packed a few changes of clothes, robbed her purse of $10 and left for San Diego and my mother.  Hazel had been sound asleep in the lounge chair in the TV room, Harold was asleep too so I was free to go, and go I did!  The year was 1960 and gas was about 30 cents a gallon.  The Buick was never empty as it was needed to take Hazel to the hospital when she had a crisis or a cigarette need.  I dared not fuel up in Selma or Kingsburg as everyone about the town recognized the pink and white 1956 2Dr Buick Century of Hazel and Harold Petersen.  So down Highway 99 South I went towards San Diego and relief from Hazel's yelling, my bad grades and the gang of fellas I was hanging with in those days.  I kept my speed to 55 to avoid being harried by the CHP or local police and finally stopped in Bakersfield to fill up.  Bakersfeild was 90 miles or so from Selma and at the foot of the "Grapevine" as it  was called leading to Los Angeles.

Grapevine Hwy 99 

 The Grapevine was a terror for both cars and trucks, the long, steep curvy roadway caused many an accident and deaths over the years.  After filling up I set out climbing the Grapevine behind a long line of semi-trucks as I had little experience on hills as it was and with the sun coming up over the hills I was blinded now and again, behind the trucks was shadow and relative safety at 35 mph!

Jobs, More Jobs...

Hazel was always supportive of my working outside our home.  She was a hardworker herself as was Harold.  She worked at a large packing house between Selma and Reedley where she was their bookkeeper.  She had worked there many harvest seasons and sometimes even during the off year time.
She liked the work and the people.  The job made her feel useful, even knowing she had the dreaded cancer doing it's best to kill her.  During those years she was off and on in the hospital and had many operations to clear out the latest tumors or adhesions.  She struggled with her illness and slowly lost more and more weight and stamina.  It was terrible to live through. Terrible to witness day by day.  Harold worked as many hours as he could at Libby, McNeil and Libby as the head electrician to support us and pay off the ever looming medical bills for Hazel's treatments.  He escaped much of the woe that was Hazel's life but he tirelessly worked and kept his humor up.

Fruitvale Elementary School

I filled out the application for the job at Woolworths and returned it through their mailslot on Monday before school.  It's all I could think about during my classes that day.  After school I rode back to Woolworths and greeted the manager.  She said she liked the application and wanted me to start the very next day!  I was elated!  Starting pay was $1.65/hr and I'd work 4pm - 6:30pm Monday thru Friday with my weekends off.  I'd be making more that at the pharmacy and no Saturdays, terrific!  I could go to the movies or run around with my buddies.

Selma High School, Science Building 1958

The work was easy if repetitive.  Neaten all shelves, put the correct things in the correct locations, price everything as it was put out and open the large shipping boxes and stack them in the large warehouse room in the back of the store.  The cashier, Mary, was nice and easy to get along with and helped me with prices when the manager was unavailable...on a smoke break or chatting with her friends or the owner on her office phone.  The worst part of the job was the monthly inventory which always tookplace on the last Saturday of the month.  The mechandise was soupto nuts, hundreds of items and, sometimeshundreds to count of each one!  It lso made for one very long Saturday, typically we worked to get it all done by 7or 7:30 but there were times, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years when big shipments came in and it took until 8 or 9pm to complete the counts.  I liked working there, it was clean, cool in warm weather (it had Air Conditioning!) and the manager was good to her employees.  I got laid off just after the last Saturday following Easter.  I couldn't escape that last inventory!

Jobs, now what?

My junior year at Selma Union High School had just started when I decided I needed money above and beyond my weekly 10 dollar allowance.  I needed to save for a car, pay for insurance, gas and all the rest (INSURANCE!), costs that yet I had not yet known too.

Woolworths

A friend of mine had worked during the summer at the Woolworth 5 and Dime across the street from the Park movie theater and told me he had just quit that morning.  I jumped on my bike and rode like the wind to the Woolworths, parked it and went inside.  I ignored the cashier, a girl about my age, and saw a mature woman loading some merchandise on a cart in the back of the store. I approached her and told her I was looking for work, she said,"wait here". I looked around and noted many of the boxes were from Japan, new labels in english were placed over the Japanese writing deascribing the contents.  I was fascinated.  "TOY TRUCK, 4 WHEEL","DOLL BABY, 6", "RULER 12" WOOD" on and on they went in stacks 4 feet high. She returned "Here you go Howard (She knew my name!), fill it out and return it to me by Monday afternoon."  I was elated to say the least, I rode home to fill the application.

Jobs Continued

That was a timeout to sort out a few dates and sequences that my ever failing memory screws up.  Here we go:

 The Seal of Selma

While working at Mr. Patterson's pharmacy one day, he asked me, "Would you be interested in some OTHER work?"  I replied "Sure!" enthusiastically.  He then explained that he needed all of the windows on his house washed inside and out.  Then, "It's in Fresno."  It sounded like something I could do, so I agreed.  He told me it would be the next weekend, start Saturday at 7am.  I, not having any transportation of my own, told him that I'd ask my Dad if he could take me to his house, then come bring me home.  Mr. Patterson then said that that wasn't necessary, that he had phoned Dennis and he was also going to wash windows too and he had a car and would be my transportation!  Problem solved, he said he would pay us 3 dollars per hour apiece, over twice our regular pay!  Now we're talking!

Raisons in the sun

Saturday came, Dennis was on time, we had a map and an address in east Fresno.  Once there we parked, got out and examined the domain.  It was a huge multistory Victorian beauty with windows galore!  Pat came out carrying buckets filled with soapy water, brushes, squeegees, and dry clean rags.  This was going to be a JOB!  2 Extension ladders leaned against the house and its roof, a very long climb with little footing once one got up there.  Lean one way then the other while holding the bucket with one hand and using a brush to soak and brush the woodwork of the spider web mess and vineyard dust that had covered the windows.  What a task!  Dennis worked on another window while I did this one and the one beside it before moving the ladder to yet another window.  On and on we went, up and down the ladder, empting the bucket of filthy water, refilling, add soapy stuff and working through the increasing summer heat.

Libby Plant, Selma, CA

Being mid-July the heat of the San Joaquin Valley was climbing as it does.  Soon rivulets of sweat poured down my face dripping off my chin as it went.  Nearing noon we took a break.  Mr. Patterson had left for the pharmacy some time ago so we were left to our own devices.  We had brought sandwiches and drinks so found a spot of shade, sat down and ate.  We were not even half done yet and the back side of the house had not even been touched!  Back to work, quicker now as it was growing hotter by the minute it seemed!  Needless to say the last 2/3ds of this job was less well done than that of the first part.  And that was only the south side of the house.  The heat was excessive at 104 degrees which caused us to take numerous breaks and stretching our workday 'til 7pm!  Mr. Patterson was not yet home so we exited stage left and headed to the roller rink in Fresno for a bit of Saturday night fun!  Home at 11pm, I went into the TV room, talked with Hazel for a bit and went off to bed.

Selma's Train Station

A knock at the front door at 6am was next, it was Dennis saying we had to go...back to Mr. Patterson's place to finish the job that I thought we had already finished!  So I quickly got dressed, told Hazel goodbye and away we went!  After we parked and got out of the car Mr. Patterson approached us, "You're fired!" he said looking a both of us,"Fired, fired, fired!"  "What" we both exclaimed!  "Why".  "Streaks on all the windows, they all have to be done over!" "And you haven't done ANY of the north side OR the inside windows!"  "I've called one of my field workers, he's going to come finish the job."  "See you Monday!"  he turned and walked back towards the house,.  We stood there and watched him stomp back towards the house.  "Shit", I said, "We screwed that one up!"  With that, we climbed back into his car and drove off to spend the day at Avacado Lake swimming and laying about in the shade.

Patterson house, summer of 2018

Monday we were back at work at the pharmacy as usual.  The failed task was never brought up, he paid us for Saturday at 3 dollars an hour for 10 hours in cash.  The job lasted all summer, took no time off and saved about 1/2 of what I earned.  Saw a few movies in the Park Theater downtown, bought my buddies gas for the rides to Fresno to "drag the main" on Friday or Saturday night.  I actually looked forward to working for Pat the next summer, alas that was not to be.

See this blog for more photos: 
http://mavensphotoblog.com/2011/06/02/agriculture-in-californias-san-joaquin-valley/

Jobs

From age 8 1/2 til I was 19 I lived at home in Selma, California in the very heart of the "Big Valley", the
San Joaquin Valley.  Jobs, many anyway, were mostly in agriculture.  Small businesses abounded, Selma had many small shops, 5 and dime, a genuine toy store, a pharmacy, a huge packing plant owned by Libby, McNeil and Libby a toy store owned by the brother of the "Chipmunks" voice, Ross Bagdasarian, and a local Sunmaid Raisin plant.  With the town being as small as it was it had many opportunities for employment and I took advantage of them through my teenage years.  I did my job search the old fashioned way, door to door, business to business right before my 15th birthday.

2nd Street businesses

The main business streets of Selma's downtown in those post-war years were High Street, McCall and 2nd Street.  The 5 and dime Woolworth's store was mid-block on High Street and I ventured in one Saturday early afternoon to see if they had a job for me.  I, of course, was turned down, but at least the ice was broken.  Next, I chanced Pat Patterson's pharmacy around the corner on 2nd street.  One of my best friends, Dennis worked there behind the soda fountain that lined the long wall back to the cashier.  He had a great smile and a great can-do attitude and I thought maybe with a good word from him I might land a similar job.  Once again I failed to land the possible job, I had dressed for success I thought, clean blue jeans, worn but no holes, and a western shirt with pearl buttons.  I then walked across the street and up 1/2 block to Lincoln Park to watch the girls at the city swimming pool.

High Street in late 50's

Summer was job time, jobs aplenty for out of school teens, lawns to mow, weeds to pull.  Movies cost 25 cents and gas was the same per gallon.  Not yet having a car and being shy of my 15th birthday gave me fewer chances than my older school peers...but I persisted week in and week out.  Finally, in mid-July Dennis quit the pharmacy job, told me and I biked down and asked Mr. Patterson for the job.  I got it!  I was just tickled!  $1.25/hr 2 hrs after school and 8 hrs on Saturday!  $24.50 per week!  Wow!  I could add to my record collection, buy 2 new tires to replace the overly smooth ones on my bike.  I was In The Money!

2nd Street

Mr. Patterson was a taskmaster if ever there was one.  Cleaning and dusting was everything and keeping the product on the shelves and all the boxes neatly arranged was next.  I was always prompt as he tolerated tardiness NOT!  I wasn't allowed to go behind the soda fountain counter for some reason except to sweep and mop the floor.  Mr. Patterson has an assistant pharmacist who wore a full-time scowl on his face and said very little to me...thank god!  After school,  I'd come into the shop at 4pm sharp and report to Mr. Patterson, who would sign me in.  Baring any jobs exceptional to my daily duties, I'd grab a broom and start in.  This went on for the first few weeks and though I was happy to have the job and a real payday check I grew somewhat bored.  Mr. Patterson soon sensed this and called me into the back one afternoon and said, "Id like to train you on filling capsules for us."  I was elated, something REAL to do in addition to the drudgery of my normal schedule.  So he brought out a large wooden board that had 200 holes the size of the large capsule part we all know and love, laid it on the counter and grabbed a sack of empty capsules from under the counter.  "Here's what you do first" and he reached into the bag, grabbed a capsule and pulled it apart.  "Take the bigger part and slip it into one of the holes, then do it again until the whole board is full".  "Then see me and I'll have you fill them".  He then left to deal with a customer.  I sat down on a high stool and started in filling the board.  Soon he came by to check my work, "be sure they are even with the board."  I fixed a few that had stuck up a bit then resumed stuffing them into the holes.  I was done with it in about 10 minutes.

I looked for him and found him back in his office.  "I'm done", I said as he rose and walked to a large locked cabinet.  He took out his keys and inserted one and the door opened, he reached in and as he handed me a box he said, "Here you go, let me get the scraper."  With that, he crouched down and grabbed the scraper.  I followed him as he walked back to the counter and I set the box down and he handed me the scraper.  He poured a pile of the white crystalline substance in the middle of the board. Then he picked up the scrapper and began dragging the pile of crystals into each of the capsules, a small bowl was used to save the excess.  Pat said, "taste it".  I looked at him strangely, "Really?" I asked.  "Go head", he said. So I pinched a bit from the pile and carefully put it on the tip of my tongue, "It's sweet!" I exclaimed. "Sure is"' he looked at me smiling, "It's plain sugar!" "You've heard of placebos haven't you?"  "Yes", I answered.  "Here's a jar, put 'em all in, you're done now." With that, I went back to the front and started my sweeping and moping routine.  Every two weeks or so I made more placebos, two hundred at a time.

Selma Hospital

  

The Last of 2017....

Housing for the Muscovy Ducks

Soon the 8th of December we and our Kats wandered off to South Carolina to visit the Peelers.  The flights were flights, domestic and suitably boring.  No food, of course, but lots of people, water and orange juice.  Plane landed in DC at Dulles, then after a plane change we were off to Columbia, SC. via a rj-145 3 seat-per-row 2+1 configuration.  No room at all and we had the cats and only a carry-on bag (thankfully smart!) Short flight, a little over an hour.  

ERJ-145

Andy and Ash picked us up as we left the concourse and we were off to our southern home shortly thereafter.  The time there was great, we laughed a lot, went grocery shopping a lot, visited a few historic sites, drove both Andy's electric car and Ash's little land-rocket too.  I did most of the cooking with Andy and Ash filling in when I was out-of-service.  Andy baked his remarkable sourdough breads too which was a real treat!  He made a particularly interesting loaf of sourdough rye, excellent by any measure! 
  

Time flew by until just before Kelly's birthday, she caught "a cold" (really the current flu) and shortly thereafter, surprise!  I had it too, then Ashley...Andy was most resistant up til then.  We were confined to bed much of the time but still took day trips and shopping excursions as necessary, a sniffing all the way!  

We had a great time though, played with their Kats and our Kats (separated for both group's safety by the kitchen door.  Many evil and curious stares between the groups as we passed in and out of the kitchen.  

We stopped imbibing sometime in the second week of our flu experience and have been "dry" since, about a month now.  How long will these two Irish blooded folks last?  It's a test, we'll see.

We flew home on the 5th of January, both of us sick as hell and stuffed ourselves into the RJ-145 again for a flight to Houston, a change of planes to a real airplane (737-900) then off we flew to Sacramento.  We were both basket cases by the time we arrived home by Veteran's Cab, a really professional outfit! 5 STARS!

Now it's the 26th and we are still sleeping in and sniffing, coughing and have diarrhea too boot!  No fun at all!