I’ve managed to break another tablet. I mention this since it has been a while since I’ve posted. I travel during the week and use my tablet to stay connected. I managed to break this tablet, by plugging my cell phone charger into my tablet.  Not that this had any thing to do with drinking whiskey straight. It happened during the airport apocalypse. I can assure you there was no whiskey involved in that incident though I think it couldn’t have hurt.

I stay at a hotel in Sioux Falls with a secret club on the ninth floor. You have to know about it and then beg and whine to get access. Since I’m a superb whiner, I was granted access the second night. Persistence, squeaky wheel, you know the drill…

I was given a key card to swipe on the reader in the elevator.  This allows you to reach the hitherto inaccessible ninth floor run by Charlie, a lovely older lady. Charlie’s an interesting character. She use to be a manager with the hotel before she had a brain aneurysm. She has some memory related issues but other than that, she’s in tiptop shape.

At this point, you’re thinking where does the whiskey come in. The attraction of the secret club is an open bar and free food. They serve an entree and what I call bits and pieces, cheese, nuts, shrimp and the like. And did I mention the open bar is free. The Ninth Floor began to remind me of gangster movie, which led to drinking liquor straight.

I would step up to Charlie’s bar and say, “Whiskey, straight.”

Her brows would wrinkle and she would say, “Really?”

I replied, “Yeah.” Like a gansta says yeah.

She would shake her head like we hadn’t been through this the night before and pour the cocktail. I grabbed it, downed it and slammed the glass back down. The mostly male audience was impressed. And I would go about my evening.

Recently I went in for a checkup. My doctor is a tiny thing, even shorter than my five foot two self. This doctor makes grown men quake, even other doctors.

I have a policy “Be bad, but don’t lie about it.” So when she asked, You’re a moderate drinker, right?

I replied, “Yeah, mostly. Except for the whiskey, straight, only one, a night.”

She stopped and turned. I’m sure she assumed I would have a different answer.

“What you mean?” she asked, looking at me over her glasses.

“I found this club. The drinks are free. One thing leads to another. You know.”

The diminutive doctor comes over. Patting my arm she said, “Just because it’s free, doesn’t mean we want it.”

Now when a bartender asks me, “Want something to drink?”

I replied, “Nah, my doctor told me to stop drinking whiskey straight.”

Which gets about the same reaction as drinking whiskey straight.

What did I last post? Have you ever had that thought? You couldn’t quite remember the last entry on your blog.

I thought, Maybe I haven’t been posting as often as I should.

I mulled this over for a while and started to feel little queasy. No, surely not, That was preposterous.

There must be some other reason  for my memory lapse.

Perhaps I was ill. Yes, of course that must be it.

I toddled to the bathroom cabinet and took my temperature. No no fever. I rubbed my hands against the sides of my neck. No, no swollen glands, no sore throat, stuffiness, or aches and pains. Nothing to indicate illness.

But if not illness, then what?

It must be those airport scanners. I fly twice a week. The scanners probably wiped my memory.

What did I have for dinner last night? Trick question, I didn’t have dinner I had a giant peanut butter chocolate Easter egg. 

I remember my Mother’s maiden name, the French I learned in 5th grade, and the color of my first tricycle. Damn it. Memory intact.

What else could it be? Was I neglectful? No. Was I lazy? We’ll come back to that one. Did I loose my snappy repartee? No, it couldn’t be. I dismissed them all.

By now you might be thinking – “Why doesn’t she just look at the date stamp on the post?”

No, I won’t. I refuse. It’s like time traveling and seeing yourself. It might rip the space-time continuum apart. No I must figure this out for myself. 

Then it hit me. My new best friend, Bernie, she works in the bar at the hotel where I stay. She was shocked that I can drink whiskey straight up. I start every evening with a complimentary whiskey. That’s it. It doesn’t have anything to do with time. Of course I posted often enough. Of course I’m responsible. Of course I honor my commitments.

I must have been drunk when I last posted. That’s why I can’t remember what it was about.

P. S. I’m still refusing to look at the time stamp.


I couldn’t find my jeans. I was in a hurry since I had a “meeting” and waited till the last minute to get ready. Story of my life.

I raced to the laundry room, maybe my jeans were in there. My son was home doing his laundry. I glanced at the piles of clean and folded laundry. (He’s way too neat. Didn’t get it from me.)

“Are my jeans in here somewhere?”

He pulled a load from the dryer. “Here, these are your.”

There on top were my jeans. I grabbed them figuring I didn’t have time to handle the whole load right then. Besides if I leave them he’ll put them away later.

“Hey,” his voice stopped me, “take the whole load, they’re all yours.”

“You sound just like me mother.” I said, grabbing the bundle of clothes.

My son replied, “You sound just like mine.”


If you remember from my last post, one of my colleagues keeps talking about a stalker who is  always cruising the airport when she arrives in Sioux Falls. We both get here late in the evening. She arrives on Sunday night and me on Monday. The flights are always late so she can arrive any time between 10:30 and 2:30. So how does this guy know when she’s arriving?
To recap, when she gets to the parking lot, a guy in a white and green van is waiting. He pulls up and asks if she wants a ride.  I decided to take care of the situation, so we arranged to arrive together on Monday night.
We arrived at 11:00 pm. We went outside. The wind was blowing a million miles an hour and it was freezing. But what should I expect it is South Dakota. I was trying to stop the wind from working its way down my coat collar when my colleague, Cutie said, “Here he comes.”
I turned, she was right a van was slowing beside us. It was indeed white and green. The guy inside lowered the passenger side window. “You want a ride?” He asked.
“Are you talking about this van?” I asked, Cutie.
“The one that says Holiday Inn? The one the hotel sends to pick us up?”

Mystery solved. Though cutie is still convinced the driver has a thing for her.

One of my colleagues keeps swearing a guy is stalking her. We both travel to Sioux Falls, but we arrive at different times. She gets in late Sunday evening and I arrive late Monday night. She says this guy’s always at the airport in a green and white van. He always slows down and asks her if she wants a ride. She always says no and catches a cab.

Tonight we’re arriving at about the same time. I’ll put an end to this tonight. To be continued…

My lifeline to the internet broke. So I’ve been off the rails for a bit until I could get a replacement.
So I’ll be catching you up on the latest in traveling news.

See you  Tuesday.

I’m sure you will be pleased to know Miss Dairy Princess was crowned last night. The stress has been lifted and the country gives a collective sigh of relief, we can now start thinking about world peace.
I can’t report anything more specific since the tickets cost twenty bucks and there wasn’t an open bar. I checked.
Tonight, the mood has shifted as there’s a military banquet. Think men in uniforms roaming the halls. I loves me a man in uniform. Okay, okay, I loves me a man. Tomorrow night I’ll be back home.
Tata till then.
P.S. Panty report. They’re chafing.


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