I’m not sure exactly how or why it happened, but sometime recently I received information in my email inbox about a cruise line called The World. The difference between The World and say, Royal Caribbean or Princess Cruise Lines is that The World’s ships provide permanent luxury residences. Emphasis on luxury. There have been rumors circulating for years that there are people who choose to retire aboard cruise ships. According to some, it is cheaper to permanently cruise around the world than to pay for living in a retirement community. I can’t confirm that this is in fact true. But the idea intrigues me nonetheless. After all, you have on-board doctors, entertainment, restaurants, lecturers, church services, 24-hour food, chocolate buffets and a 70s night once a week. What more could you want? Not that I plan on doing it, mind you. According to my brother, cruising – just like riding roller coasters – is tempting fate. He says sinking – or running into an ice berg (even if you are sailing the Caribbean) – is, well, just a matter of time. But Bill and I do like to travel on cruise ships. Our first cruise was sometime around 2006 or so, a Caribbean cruise on Princess Cruise Lines. Having not done it before, neither of us was certain whether we would love it or hate it. I think it’s hard to feel neutral about cruising. We love it. So in 2008, we boarded a Royal Caribbean cruise ship in Galveston, TX, and spent two weeks traveling across the Atlantic Ocean to Barcelona, Spain, where we began our three-month adventure. We did the same thing a couple of years later when we traveled from Miami to Rome, spending two weeks crossing the Atlantic. On that trip, we actually stayed in the same room on the same ship, and traveled around the Mediterranean, where we visited such places as Egypt and Greece. We were on that same ship for a total of 28 days. I never once got tired of it. Of course, there is a big difference between 28 days and 365 days year after year. Out of curiosity, and after watching the seductive video included in the email, I looked online to find the cost of buying a residence on The World. Bill and I could buy one of the 200 residential units aboard The World for somewhere in the vicinity of $3 million up front and an annual maintenance fee of up to $270,000. I guess if I had to ask the price, I couldn’t afford it. Of course, if I can afford a condo costing several million plus a three-figured maintenance fee, I can afford to fly home and visit my grandkids. Being a half world away from them most of the time would be one thing (in addition to the imminent ice bergs) that would prevent me from living aboard a cruise ship. But I am seriously curious to know if it is actually affordable and sensible to spend one’s retirement years aboard a regular cruise ship. Our rooms on the cruise ships were tiny and plain. It worked just fine for our time at sea. But it might drive me crazy to live in such a small space permanently. Maybe it wouldn’t. After all, you have the whole ship on which to wander around. And it would always be reasonably warm because the ships generally cruise the Caribbean in the winter and the Mediterranean in the summer. You might have some chilly days on the way to and fro, but most days would be quite pleasant. Wouldn’t they? Of course, you have the whole issue of medical care. There are on-ship doctors who could treat colds and the flu, but what about serious illnesses? We have an acquaintance who fell on a ship and broke his arm. He ended up in a hospital in Naples, and doesn’t have especially fond memories of his experience. But if the fine folks of Napoli can’t provide good health care, they certainly can compensate by making delicious pizza. Perhaps in order to even consider this option, you have to be fairly active and healthy. After all, no matter where you live, your body is however old your body is, and your bones are the same age. Perhaps being 75 years old and living on a ship that occasionally lists violently is not a great idea. Just for the sake of comparison, here is a photo of a suite on The World….   On the other hand, here is a photo of Bill standing in our shower aboard the Royal Caribbean…..   And I’m quite certain the room stewards wouldn’t walk into a suite aboard The World and see this (which our steward frequently did)…..   I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t allow the Clampetts to sail aboard The World. All-in-all, I think I will stick to the occasional Caribbean cruise and not choose to retire upon a giant floating city. It would be nice to wake up just outside Florence, however.

I have two smiles today (though I PROMISE you I smiled more than twice this week).

First of all, six years ago yesterday, our little Magnolia Faith was born. Bill and I were on our big adventure, and we were in Arles, France, when we got word of the birth. I remember sitting on the patio of the café which was the inspiration for Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night and talking to our daughter-in-law on the telephone, getting all of the details. It is a memory I will never forget (and it was very difficult to wait almost three months to hold little Maggie). This bright shining star with her grown-up vocabulary and breath-taking smile has brought us six years of joy. Many, many more to come!

Smile Number Two involves Kaiya and Mylee, with whom I have spent a considerable amount of time this past week to give Mommy a chance to catch up on some zzzzz’s when the baby sleeps since Dad has gone back to work.

We were driving to my house after having picked Kaiya up from school, and somehow (who knows how these conversations start) we began talking about being naughty and time-outs and such. I told them that one time when their daddy was about 3 years old, we were in a 7-Eleven and we bought him a Slurpee. He didn’t like the flavor we chose and proceeded to throw it down onto the ground.

“Well,” I told the girls, “that didn’t fly with his daddy and me. Your dad got into a lot of trouble that day.”

Their response? Not a bit of concern about their dad’s punishment……

“What flavor was it? What flavors did they have? What flavor did he want? Did he like Slurpees?”

I then told them about a time when I was naughty.

“I once threw a burrito at Papa because I got mad at him,” I said.

Mylee’s immediate response?

“Did you fix yourself another burrito?”

I love to see the world through the eyes of kids.

Have a good weekend.

Union Station at night

I worked in downtown Denver for 20 years. Actually, I started out working on Capitol Hill, which is just a short distance east of downtown. A couple of years after I started working for that company, it picked up and moved to what was then called lower downtown – or the Skids.

It seriously was quite depressing. Female employees were walked to their cars on dark winter evenings. We witnessed homeless couples making whoopee by the dumpsters outside our windows. There wasn’t a restaurant to be found within a reasonable walking distance. Our executive director told us we were being “trailblazers.”

Well, he was right. Several years after we moved, the Colorado Rockies organization built Coors Field literally across the street from our office, and the rest is history.

When I left, Lodo was thriving, though there were still undeveloped areas. Light rail had begun, but there weren’t many lines. Condos were being built, but they were few and far between, and terribly expensive.

I get downtown on occasion since I retire when I have lunch with some of my old friends. Each time I exit the light rail train and head towards my old office, I tell myself I HAVE to bring Bill downtown as he will simply NOT believe the difference.

Well, tonight we pulled on our big boy and girl pants (as my sister Bec would say), boarded the light rail train, and headed downtown.

Our first stop was a reception at a hotel steps away from Sports Authority at Mile High. We got off the train at the Mile High station and began heading towards the stadium.

Have you ever walked the Strip in Las Vegas from one end to the other? You know how the Stratosphere looks like it’s on the next block, but when you start walking, it gets further and further away? That’s sort of the way we felt as we walked toward the stadium. It just kept inching away from us. When we finally reached the stadium, the hotel still looked a mile away. Bill looked it up later to learn it is 1.3 miles from the rail stop to the hotel.

The reception was for members of Bill’s Parkinson’s Support Group. It ended up being less of a social reception and more of a meeting/discussion about doctors, medications, tips on living productive lives after being diagnosed. They are nice folks and we got some good information, but I can’t say I was sad to say goodbye. We were, after all, on a mission of fun!

The group’s organizer suggested we ask the staff at the front desk if they had a van or could they call us a taxi that could take us to Union Station, where we wanted to begin our evening. Sure thing, I said, knowing full well that Bill McLain doesn’t do taxis or hotel vans. Not when he has two good legs with which to walk. I’ve traveled Europe with this man. I know how he rolls.

And so we set off. We headed towards Lodo, and reached it without any trouble at all. (Bill looked it up later. We walked another 1.2 miles.) It was so much fun to see how much the downtown area has changed even since last fall when I was there last. Denver really has moved from being a total cow town to putting on its own big kid pants and being a genuine grown-up city. And really, you can see so much more on foot than you can riding in a cab. I have to grudgingly admit that.

We had dinner at Proto’s Pizzeria Napoletano, a Italian-style pizza restaurant that has been there for some time, and serves delicious food. We enjoyed our pizza and wine, and had an interesting conversation with the manager about eating pizza in Italy. Comes to you uncut. You eat it with a knife and fork.

Since I was downtown last, the powers that be (The City? The Regional Transportation District?) have completed construction of Union Station. Well, I should actually say the reconstruction as Union Station has been there as a train station since the 1800s. Now it is the downtown hub for light rail and buses coming downtown, and will also be the hub for the train that will go to the airport when it is completed in 2016. Seems like forever. Anyway, it is a futuristic looking addition – really beautiful and magical when it is lighted at night.

In fact, our whole evening was magical. As we waited for our train to take us back to our dull house just inches from the dull suburbs, we contemplated all of the new residential units that have been built. We watched bicyclists and joggers and people walking their dogs enjoying the chilly but clear evening. My favorite was a condo directly across from the train station that was glass windows from top to bottom. The lights were on so we could voyeuristically look right inside. There was scarcely any furniture except for a red sofa and a shiny black grand piano. Magnificent.

All the way home, Bill and I kept saying how much fun we had. We were kind of like kids with their big boy and girl pants. We must do it again soon.

I have seen it coming for quite some time now, but I fear it is now true beyond a doubt. I no longer am in anyone’s demographic group.

I suspect  businesses – and their marketing staff – are missing the boat. Not only are baby boomers still a large portion of the population, but many of us have a certain amount of expendable income since our homes are paid off, we don’t have college loans, our children are financially self-sufficient, and we have time on our hands.

It was the random red couch that really crystalized this notion of being a purchaser without a company interested in selling to me. McDonald’s new ad is a total mystery to me. It involves a series of people sitting on “a random red couch” and eating their Big Macs as a really annoying song plays in the background. As often as I watch these commercials (and I try to fast forward past them as often as possible), they just are totally and completely lost on me. And they don’t make me want to eat a hamburger from McDonalds or anywhere else.

The other commercial that leaves me completely flummoxed is the Sprint ad in which the family members are talking about how a number of people can be on one calling plan. The father is a hamster. Every time I watch this commercial – every single, solitary time – I ask Bill – no, I beg him – to tell me why the father is a hamster. Are there people – maybe people who are twenty-something – who find this comical? Is the hamster a symbol of something that I am missing? Still, it is enough to make me want to change my cell service to whatever service has the commercial featuring that sweet young man talking with the children around the table. I am that demographic, not the demographic with the talking father/hamster. Or is it a gerbil? Am I overthinking it all?

A number of months ago, I touched on this issue as I lamented that Dancing With the Stars was changing its format to try and appeal to a younger demographic. They changed the music and the format and the set to encourage that beloved 25 – 45 demographic group to watch ballroom dancing. I don’t know if they have been successful. What I do know is that Candace Cameron Bure has made it to the finals and she can’t dance a lick. What she can do is appeal to the over-45 demographic because of her strong religious beliefs. So there.

The other day I turned on the radio in the car. The lead story on the local station was that state and local officials had just broken the news to the Colorado Symphony Orchestra – THE COLORADO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA – that they were not going to be able to proceed with their planned BYOC concerts. That is BYOC as in Bring Your Own Cannabis. Yes friends, THE COLORADO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA, that distinguished and talented gathering of musicians playing Bach and Mozart and Rachmaninoff, in celebration of Colorado’s liberal marijuana laws, wanted to play music before people who perhaps would rather be at a Bob Marley concert.

I’m sure my parents felt this same way as they grew older as well. Maybe it really is just me struggling to accept that I am no longer a child. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I am very happy when there is a commercial where one of two things happens: either all members of the family are human or all members of the family are animals.

And McDonalds, can we go back to “two all-beef patties special, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun?”

Things have settled down a bit and Bill and I are concentrating on getting back into some sort of routine. We got off to a good start yesterday morning by going to the gym, something we hadn’t done for about three weeks. Packing up, traveling home, unpacking, Bill’s Chicago trip, a new baby. Lots of excuses.  But, we are once again determined to make exercise part of our routine. Gotta. My legs are scolding me this morning.

I’m also determined to get back into the habit of cooking. We have been so busy that it’s actually quite embarrassing to think of how seldom I have cooked as of late. That, too, is going to change.

That is why I reached under my stove yesterday morning to retrieve a skillet in which to cook some eggs and sausage. I pulled out my small red sauté pan and was horrified – HORRIFIED I TELL YOU – to see that the outside was covered in black burned-on stains. You seriously could barely tell it was red. It was not as I left it five months ago. That’s all I’ll say about that.

At the same time, I noticed my tiny little skillet with the copper bottom that I use infrequently, but strategically, was also stained – this stain being inside the pan.

I got out my scrub brush and began working on both of these pans to no avail. I brought out Bill’s hearty citrusy Gojo cleaner – that stuff will clean anything. It was a no-go. Not even the tiniest dent on the stain. Oh nooooooo.

Here’s what I did, based on an internet search:

I sprinkled the powdered form of Barkeeper’s Friend on the outside of the red pan. I crumpled a piece of aluminum foil and began scrubbing. My friends, it was magical. Unfortunately, I neglected to take a “before” shot of my pan because frankly, I didn’t think it had a chance of working. It did. Here’s what my pan looks like now…

But, would it work on the copper-bottomed pan with the serious internal stain that looked like this?

Here’s what it looks like now….

Now I don’t want to fool you. It took a bit of elbow grease. But not more elbow grease than my 60-year-old arthritic hands could provide. I was amazed.

The good news is that aluminum is softer than steel, so this process doesn’t do as much damage as stainless steel would. However, you would probably want to be a bit careful about what you scrub. No non-stick surfaces, for example.  If you have questions, scrub a small part of the pan first to see if it gets damaged.

One more quick trick with simple household items….

I have a glass-top stove that I find tiresome to keep clean. Here is a quick and easy solution to keeping your glass-top stove shiny. I do this once every couple of weeks.

Sprinkle baking soda liberally onto the stove top.

In the meantime, fill a bowl or your sink with HOT water mixed with some dishwashing soap. Soak some clean rags in the water, then wring out about halfway so that the rags are still pretty damp. Lay the damp rags on top of the glass top and let it sit for 15 minutes or so. Once the time is up, swirl the rags around in circles, using the baking soda as a scrub. Rinse and dry, and shine it with a clean cloth. You will be amazed.

Not too bad for a 20-year stovetop.

By the way, the temperature this morning was 30 degrees. Brrrr. Come back Springtime!

They say fate is a fickle mistress. I say Colorado weather is a fickle mistress.

Here is was– the middle of May, and Mother’s Day to boot – and it looked like it could be the middle of January. Snow is the reason we bought a house in Arizona. How DARE it snow in May – and especially when I had plans for Mother’s Day brunch?

It certainly isn’t unusual to have a spring snowstorm. I can think of two major storms that took place in March and April in Colorado. And it isn’t even particularly unusual to have a snow storm in May, much as it pains me to say it. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. And it happened yesterday.

I was looking forward to our annual trek to the Greenbriar Inn just outside of Boulder in the foothills of Colorado to enjoy Mother’s Day brunch with my sister Jen and my nephew BJ. Bill and I have done it almost every year for a very long time. Our son Court used to join us until he married and started his own family and his own Mother’s Day traditions. We miss him, but not enough to prevent us from enjoying oodles of fresh oysters, millions of mussels, and a plethora of delicious desserts, on top of the normal brunch fare of breakfast and a carving station. Yum.

But yesterday, sometime while we were at Mass, the rain in which we drove to get to church turned to snow, and it snowed for hours. The weather folks told us it was coming, but somehow I was not a believer. It simply couldn’t happen, I thought. Last week I was wearing shorts and t-shirts and playing at parks with my grandchildren. Last week I planted my herbs (luckily in pots that I could bring inside) and last week I began cleaning up my yard. Last week we enjoyed the smell of my apple and pear blossoms and watched as the petals rained down on Mylee and Kaiya.

And just to rub salt in the wound, the storm didn’t come until the blossoms had completely fallen off the tree, thereby ensuring that we WILL have apples in the fall. That used to make me happy; now it stresses me because I have to think of a million uses for apples. Stay tuned for recipes on apple butter, apple cakes, apple pies, apple betties, apple sauce, apple hand creams and apple soaps come fall. And that’s not even mentioning the pear tree. Same scenario.

Bill and I spent the day indoors watching old movies and making plans to eat brunch at the Greenbriar next weekend. We did venture out to our neighborhood Mexican restaurant where we enjoyed such typical Mother’s Day fare as taquitos al carbon and chips and salsa, and I had the world’s biggest margarita. It just seemed like the Mother’s Day thing to do.

Nothing says Mother’s Day like Taquitos Al Carbon and tequila.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother’s Day.

By the way, though it is definitely only flurries, it is still snowing this morning as I write this blog. It is the winter that won’t quit.

As you have been able to tell from my recent blog posts, this has been a busy, but happy, couple of weeks in our lives. There have been pageants and festivals and dances and soccer games and — oh yeah — births. And having spent so much time this past week with my grandkids, I have lots of stories I could tell you that made me laugh.

First I want to show you a picture that made me smile…..

Cole is wrapped in a blanket, and then placed inside this swaddling sack. I’m sure that’s not the technical name, but that’s basically what it is. He is perfectly content, but it makes me hyperventilate to think about being wrapped up like that. I commented that he looked like a little burrito, and his mommy, with a nod to her Cambodian heritage, said, “No Nana, he looks like an eggroll.” I guess with his daddy’s Swiss and Polish heritage, you could also say he looks like a little sausage!

But here is the story that made me laugh out loud this week.

Alyx’s labor didn’t begin with contractions; it began when her water broke in the middle of last Sunday night. This somewhat dramatic event got mentioned a number of times over the next few days.

On Monday, Kaiya, being a proud big sister, told her teacher and her class that she had a new baby brother. According to Kaiya’s teacher, this is what Kaiya told her: “My mommy broke a glass of water and then she knew she was having a baby.”

Have a good weekend.