BOB'S YOUR UNCLE AND FANNY'S YOUR AUNT

There is only one American I know who has heard of The Kimberly, so when I told friends we were going there, they asked where it was.  "It's a huge area of Northwestern Australia, bigger than the size of Texas," I answered, "And it's considered one of the most ecologically diverse and pristine wilderness areas on our planet."

Visiting Australia has never been high on my priority list because I used to say that when I get off a plane, I want to feel like I'm in a foreign country.  To me Australia seemed too similar to America, but exploring the rugged Kimberly Coast on a small ship sounded more like taking a walkabout with the Aborigines in the Outback.  In other words, this trip seemed appealing.  Although I was not ready to make cruising our style, I thought that this would give me a preview of what it will be like to travel in my eighties.

THIS WAS OUR ROUTE UP THE COAST

Upon our arrival in Australia, we had the same reaction we did when we visited Canada this sumer.  How come we know so little about this country -- its geography its history (other than it was a place that England sent its criminals), its politics, or any details about how the government is run.  It was kind of embarrassing not to know the name of the Prime Minister.  Despite our ignorance about a lot of things Australian, we patted ourselves on the back for knowing that Nicole Kidman and Olivia Newton John were Australian, but what we didn't know was that they were victims of what Aussies call the "tall poppy syndrome."  This means that, unlike America, it is difficult for an Australian to make a name for himself or herself or to gain fame in their homeland.  Usually, they must leave the country to become successful.  The reasons for this are not exactly clear, although one passenger said that there has always been a tendency for Aussies to want equality for everyone and dislike countrymen (or countrywomen) who flaunt their success.

Let's face it, as Americans, we pay little attention to what goes on in Australia.  In a book I read, it said that in 1997, there were only 20 articles in The New York Times about Australia, whereas in the same year, there were 120 articles on Peru, 150 on Albania, and 500 on Israel.  Most Americans don't even know that in 1967 the Prime Minister of Australia plunged into the surf while strolling on the beach one day and was never heard from again.  All of this might be acceptable if this country was like Belarus or Benin, but the fact is Australia is one of the largest countries in the world by landmass.

ONE OF THE KIMBERLY BEACHES

Our need to get a visa to enter Australia completely escaped us.  "Where is your Australian visa?" the young agent at the airport in Bali asked, as we were checking in for our flight to Perth.  "Americans don't need visas for Australia,"  Bruce  replied with conviction.  "I'm afraid you do, Sir," the female agent behind the counter said in a polite voice, not authoritative like the bellowing voice from the man standing behind him who repeated, "Yes, you do."  We shook our heads.  "No, we don't," we repeated.  "Look, I don't know where you got this information, but you do need a visa and that's simply the way it is," the man answered back.  "Who are you?" I asked, assuming he was another passenger who wanted to butt in.  "I'm from Immigration," he answered brusquely, "and I'm in the middle of something important, so let's just get on with it and try to get you a visa on line, if we can."  He turned to the agent behind the desk and whispered something that sounded like keep an eye out for fake passports from Jakarta, will you?

After finally connecting through a maze of networks, it took about fifteen minutes to fill out the forms and pay for the visas online.  But once we received them electronically, we were on our way, expressing gratitude to the patient agent.  You would think that after our visa debacle in Argentina, where we thought we could obtain visas at the border, but couldn't, we would have researched this visa issue more thoroughly.

A few days later, we boarded the Coral Princess ship with 46 other passengers, mostly Australians, near the frontier town of Broome on the West Coast.  The Coral Princess is a handsome, twin-hulled boutique catamaran, designed for maximum stability and comfort.  Most of the time you feel like you are cruising on a private yacht.  We were guided by their highly professional staff to our comfortable stateroom, where we eagerly unpacked for the highly anticipated ten day trip.

THE CORAL PRINCESS

After successfully donning our life jackets and going through the required emergency drill, we went down to the bar and dining room for cocktails and dinner with a fixed menu that sounded absolutely delicious.  Except for the purser handing out anti-nausea pills to all passengers when we boarded, there was no significant warning of what was to come.  Just as we were sitting down for dinner, the ship began to heave a little and then more rocking and rolling.  I don't usually suffer from motion sickness so I wasn't worried initially, but after a few minutes, this type of turbulence began to affect me.  

Pretty soon the dining room was almost completely empty, as people ran or crawled to their staterooms to lie down, except for a few brave souls, like Bruce and me.  I thought I'd be ok if I ate a little something since I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.  My stomach was a little queasy and my head was spinning too, which reminded me of the only time when I came really close to losing it -- throwing up, I mean, because of motion sickness.    I was in the spinning teacups ride at Disneyland, and forgot to keep my head up and my eyes focused on the horizon as I had been told by the man collecting tickets.  If the ride hadn't ended when it did, I might have done something awful to upset my six-year old niece who was having a grand time spinning round in the teacup and sitting beside me.   So here on the ship I kept a smile on my face, ate a small dinner role and a couple of bites of chicken, all the time watching Bruce consume the entire meal, including dessert, and not feeling a thing.   Fortunately in the middle of the night the boat stopped heaving and apparently, so did everyone else.  

Since Bruce and I are not used to cruising, we forgot that the view outside our cabin window constantly changes, which in The Kimberly means you either see white sandy beaches, massive red and black sandstone cliffs or major outcroppings of rock which are usually exposed only at low tide.  But there are other things that never change:  bright blue sky, gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, and oppressive heat and humidity.  Fortunately, the Coral Princess was well air-conditioned, but when you went outside, it felt like you just opened the door of a 400 degree oven.  I used to say that the hottest place I ever traveled was Papua New Guinea, so no wonder we sweated like pigs.  We were about a thousand miles from those shores.

THE EXPLORER AT A WET LANDING

Sharing daily details about exploring The Kimberly would take too many pages.  It can be summed up best by saying our twice daily excursions in a smaller, zippy boat called the Explorer offered the opportunity to explore the incredible scenery on foot.   We experienced natural surroundings that are far different from what we have seen in other parts of the world.  Geologically, the Kimberly was created almost two thousand million years ago and transformed into its present landmass by major geological upheaval also, over a period of millions of years.  We were struck by the brilliant colors of the sedimentary, metamorphic and igneous rock.  There was a sampling of marine life, like dangerous saltwater crocs, sea snakes, and one day we came across a small-scale bearded dragon that even our guest lecturers had never seen before.  

OLIVE PYTHON

One of the crew discovered an olive python sleeping on the Explorer excursion boat, which was a little creepy, especially since he seemed to think it had been on the boat for several days.  In the water, we saw an occasional whale and several pods of dolphins.  One day a large, but friendly tawny nurse shark came to our boat to be hand fed small fish, a mid-morning snack that the shark remembered from previous Coral Princess visits. 

On Montgomery Reef, Australia's largest inshore reef, we experienced one of the lowest tides ever and enjoyed a spectacle of spectacles as we watched cascades of white water pouring off its ragged edge.  The best way to see the reef, exotic coral and unusual marine life was on a zodiac.

MONTGOMERY REEF

THIS WAS NOT ONLY A WET LANDING BUT A MUD LANDING

We had wet landings and occasional dry ones.  Some of our walks were rocky and quite steep, under a blazing sun with almost no shade.  Others were flat on hard sand and soft, through mud flats and sharp spinifex grass.  


We climbed over boulders and took cool dips in several natural plunge pools.  

A NATURAL POOL FOR A NICE COOL DIP ON A HOT DAY

OSPREY NEST

Binoculars weren't required to spot the large osprey nests built on top of uniquely carved rocks, and although we never saw a bower bird, we did see its cleverly camouflaged nest under a tree and in the sand.  The hundred-year-old family grave sites were an indication that a few had tried to build a community here, but failed due to the harsh climate and the inhospitable land.  One day we explored the site of a well preserved DC3 plane wreck that crashed in the bush during the war in 1942, but amazingly, all the crew survived.

A BOWER BIRD'S BOWER (A NEST ON THE GROUND)

YES, IT'S  WEIRD TO HAVE A PHOTO OF YOURSELF
IN FRONT OF A WRECKED PLANE

WALKING ON WATER OR MAYBE MUD?

As we walked on the beach, hundreds of fiddler crabs ran for cover in their well protected sand holes, but I was still able to get a photo.  

FIDDLER CRABS HAVE ONLY ONE LARGE CLAW

One of the highlights for many was an exciting zodiac raft trip down the famous Horizontal Falls, an unusual water phenomenon made possible by a fast rising tide.  

Fortunately, we had several opportunities to see the famous Wandjina figures, the Aboriginal name for ancient rock art, created by tribes thousands of years ago.  Some paintings required us to lay on our backs and look up at the low ceiling in order to see the details.

When we weren't exploring by foot, we were cruising down mangrove-lined rivers, narrow gorges or deep canyons.  On the ship, experts lectured on topics like Australia's original settlers, rock art, and the mysteries of sharks and crocs.  

Food was never a problem. In fact, that's an understatement because we had an amazing gourmet chef named Travis.   There was morning and afternoon tea, where you could enjoy freshly baked scones, served with berry jam and real whipped cream.  The staff on the ship were extremely professional and yet at the same time they loved cracking jokes and making good fun with all the guests.

PAM AND JACK, WHO WORE MANY HATS

(L-R) EMMA, JOANNE, AND BRITTANY

One morning some of us paid dearly to get a bird's eye view of The Kimberly with a helicopter excursion over the famous Mitchell Falls, but we were so late in the dry season that the falls were pretty skimpy and could almost be called non-existent.  It didn't really matter to me because what I wanted was an overall perspective of the rugged landscape below.   Here we were thousands of miles from anywhere and in the middle of nowhere.

Very early on the trip, I knew the passengers would be as interesting and colorful as the scenery, because Aussies are so much fun.  

SUE FROM MELBOURNE

Whether you consider Aussies gifted communicators or not, I have to admit that they certainly have an unusual vernacular.  It took a while for us to understand what they were saying because they often shorten words that have more than two syllables, even calling themselves Aussies instead of Australians,  Sunglasses are sunnies.  Universities are unis.  The word temporary becomes tempy, and my favorite is pressies for chrissy.  Figure that one out?  A bloke is a man, and a sheila's a girl.  Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your aunt means don't worry mate, everything is going to be ok.  Some expressions need no translation like, pushing shit up the hill with a pointed stick,  point percy at the porcelain, and my other favorite is If your auntie had balls, she'd be your uncle.

For more than a decade now I've been very fortunate to visit many places of extraordinary beauty, and The Kimberly ranks pretty high on the list.  But making friends with a wonderful bunch of Aussies is what made this trip really special and worthwhile for me.

THE MAGIC OF BALI

What people say about Bali is true. The tropical island in the Indian Ocean is really magical, but you can't see the magic in the pictures we took. Instead the magic is in the air, and also in the smiles of the people who live there. The magic is ingrained in the Balinese culture, similar to what we experienced when we traveled to other countries, where Buddhism and Hinduism are inculcated into people's lives.

You feel the magic the minute you meet the driver who greets you at the airport with a sign that has your name on it. There is something very comforting to arrive in a foreign land, after what seems like days of travel, and see your name written in big bold letters on a white sign that a stranger is holding up. With palms held close together and with his head slightly bowed, our driver, Kutuk, dressed in traditional Balinese clothing, made us feel as though we were coming home to the land that we loved, not going on a vacation to a place we'd never been to before.

We were slightly shell shocked and exhausted from 24 hours of travel squeezed in the back of the giant plane sitting in seats that we all know as coach. And yet, after arriving at Amori Villas, high in the mountains above the town of Ubud, and feeling the warmth of the people who worked there and the tranquility of the scenery around us, we quickly bounced back. We felt like someone had infused us with a big dose of energy. Although we can no longer call ourselves true honeymooners, Bruce had reserved the honeymoon suite, which didn't really surprise me because he's such a sucker for outdoor showers. Everyone at Amori greeted us like long-lost friends -- Rick and Peta, an Australian couple who own the mountain resort and their Balinese staff, like Mosie and Avi, made our three-night stay one of the most luxurious experiences we've had in a long time.









Our visit to Bali was really a stopover on our way to Australia, but after only a few hours, we realized that this spectacular place deserved more than just a short visit. The next time we will try and come for a couple of weeks. With only three nights and two full days, we crammed a lot in, not taking adequate time to relax and swim in the infinity pool at Amori or explore the charm of the small village down the road.







Instead, on the first day we hiked the Campuan Ridge trail, which took us up the hillside on dirt paths, through acres of bright green rice fields, and finally back to Ubud on a busy paved road that included a couple of very steep hills. If I had been on my bike, I definitely would have had to walk it. Trying to find the Ridge trailhead, which essentially started very close to a Hindu Temple, where a special ceremony was going on, was our first adventure. Not wanting to miss any of the ceremony we witnessed from the bridge above, we quickly put on the paisley print sarong and purple sash that our hosts had loaned us to wear, since this traditional dress is required for entry into temples. This gave us a good laugh as we struggled to properly wrap the three yards of fabric, so we wouldn't trip on the long hem while walking down the steep steps to the river to witness the ceremony below.












It seemed that our trip to Bali not only happened at the same time as the famous Ubud Festival of Writers and Readers that is held every year, but it also coincided with several religious events around the revered Saraswati, the Hindu God of Wisdom and Education. So, In addition to the streets being filled with foreign visitors on vacation and writers and readers from around the world, the local kids were also out of school. For the next several days Balinese people would be coming to and going from the many temples to make their offerings to the worshipped God, Saraswati. Incense filled the air, drumbeats and bells rang out, and chanting could be heard from the temple by the river. Although wearing a sarong was essential in order to get close enough to simply take pictures, we were told that the ceremony was off limits to tourists, and that it was time for us to move on. That worked fine with us because the sun was becoming very hot and that, along with the humidity of the tropics, made us feel sticky and drippy, and we hadn't even begun our ridge loop walk. Since I wasn't wearing my Fitbit device, which determines how many miles we'd walked, all I can say is that other than stopping to take pictures and to share a bowl of Indonesian noodles at a small cafe in the rice fields, we walked continuously from 10:30 am to 4:00 pm. The Lonely Planet guidebook said the trail was 8 kilometers, but someone at the hotel told us that it was 24 km. All I can say is that we definitely walked more than 8 km and no way did we do 24.




















On our second day in Bali we thought we'd take it easy by hiring a car and driver to drive us around to see the sights, since the price to do so seemed very reasonable. Ha, Ha, taking it easy. What a joke. Seeing the sights near and around Ubud meant plenty of walking, and a long climb down and up 350 steps to view the Puranas Gunung Kawi, not including all the walking we did at the ancient temple site itself. And I must tell you that this was done in the high heat and humidity wearing three yards of fabric that hung down below your knees and under which you wore a pair of already sweaty shorts. Another well known site we visited was the Tirta Empul or also known as the Holy Water Temple, where we walked, and watched myriads of people bathe in the healing holy waters, and fill plastic jugs to take home to their families. Friends of mine in California actually participated in the bathing ritual when they visited Bali a couple of years ago, and even though the cool water would have felt great against my hot and sticky skin, the idea of spending the rest of the day in wet clothes did not sound very appealing. Instead I looked forward to returning to the air conditioned car. We also visited some of the wood carvers in the adjacent village of Mas. Although we were open to buying something if something special caught our eye, we, unfortunately left the town of Mas empty handed. Not the least bit deterred, we later combed the streets of Ubud looking for shops and galleries that had the perfect mask to add to our tribal collection at home. And voila, we were successful. I'm not sure how many miles we walked on day two, but we walked a lot -- maybe not as many miles as the day before, but pretty darn close.


























I am writing this post while flying to Australia. In a couple of days we will be exploring the wild Kimberly Coast on a small 50 passenger catamaran ship. I don't know how much Wifi we will have, but stay tuned. The adventure continues.............

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

HOMECOMING

Five days before my New Hampshire trip,  I could feel myself getting antsy.  What if we run out of things to talk about?  What if our political beliefs differ.  Maybe she's a born again.  Or even worse.  What if we don't like each other?  

These questions filled me with anxiety as I packed my bag and thought about the days ahead, when I would finally meet up with my long-lost, best friend from elementary school.  Long-lost is probably the best way to describe our relationship because that is what it was -- long lost.  Fifty years to be exact.

I THINK THIS WAS FOURTH GRADE.  CAN YOU FIND ME? 

Janet and I had deep roots.  She and I connected in the sixth grade, although we'd seen each other earlier when her family, who lived a few hundred miles from us, came to visit the Melnicks, their relatives, who lived in our rural town of Littleton.  Her uncle, Mr. Melnick, owned the best shoe store in town, and his family lived down the hill from our house.  When Janet visited,  we would play on the swings in Remich Park and build snow sculptures in the winter.   When we were in the sixth grade, her family moved permanently to Littleton, but her teacher was not the same as mine, so we didn't see much of each other that year.    She was quiet, timid, and shy, so rather than boldly announcing to me here I am, she stayed in the background and watched me play with other kids.  Things changed in seventh grade, and although neither of us remember how it happened, we became best friends.    Back then you didn't introduce someone as one of my best friends.  You would put your arm around her and say, I want you to meet my best friend.  I had only one, and her name was Janet.

I had some anxiety about seeing Janet in person.  Last year I wrote about finding her in a post entitled Nostalgia, and since then, we've emailed back and forth, asking and answering questions, and even though I thought we were probably on the same wave length, I didn't know for sure.  

On that Friday when my plane landed in Manchester, I called Janet's cell to say I had my bag and would be waiting out in front of the terminal.   She giggled when she said she was driving a big black Mercedes, and the giggle I heard sounded like the Janet I used to know.   I pushed my way through the double glass doors and spotted the Mercedes.  Leaving the motor running, Janet jumped from her car to greet me.   I could tell from the red blotches on her face, and the way she gripped me as we hugged, that she was as nervous about seeing me as I was about seeing her.  In fact, we decided to find some place to stop, have a cup of coffee and calm down because we both were shaking so much.   It didn't take long for us to feel comfortable with one another, almost like teenagers who talked about their future like we used to, but this time, as we stared into each others eyes, the only thing we could talk about was the past.

There are more than memories here, I thought to myself.   I looked down and saw that the three silver bracelets Janet was wearing were almost identical to the three silver bracelets I was wearing.   I remember when we were kids, we made a tiny cut on each of our fingers so we could rub our blood together and call each other my sister.  

It was about a two hour drive from Manchester to Littleton, where we were spending the weekend together and staying at what was once called Perkins Motel.  When we arrived in Littleton and checked in to the motel my parents used to own,  I thought it was strange that I  felt no emotion for a place I had lived from age 11 to 17, and where my memories ran wild.  I even wrote about it in a blog post  Motel Musings #1.   Ironically, the woman who worked the front desk remembered my parents and my sister and brother.  "Your parents would cry if they saw this place now," she said.   "It's not the same anymore. "   She went on to say that the former owners of Perkins Motel fell on hard times and let the place run down so badly that the bank took it over in foreclosure.   But there were new owners now. 

PERKINS MOTEL IN THE 50s

After dinner that evening with two elementary school friends, Cynthia and Karen, who were still living in town, Janet and I returned to our room at the motel, and even though we shut off the light and said goodnight several times, we continued to talk for hours.  No matter what we said, we saw the parallels in our lives,  not so much in what we did during the last fifty years, but more about how similar our core values were and our mutual desire to grow as human beings.  We each turned adversity into a positive force in our lives.  Our curious personalities drove us to become readers and world travelers.  Having been forced to be financially self sufficient, we realized that we both had a strong inner drive to succeed. 

Janet may have been timid and shy as a youngster, but as an adult she is strong, optimistic and courageous.    In recent years, the love of her life, David, has developed Parkinson's disease, but yet she and he have done everything they can to remain positive, stay current, and not let this disability affect their love for one another and their family.   If anything they love each other more, but have learned to do everything they can now and not take anything for granted.  While Bruce and I are fortunate to be reasonably healthy, I share Janet and David's desire to do everything while we still can and not take our good life for granted.      

JANET & HER GRANDDAUGHTER CLEMY & RUBIE, THEIR ANTIQUE TRUCK

 The next morning Janet and I strolled up and down Littleton's Main Street, even visited the new history museum, but I was not as emotional as I thought I would be.  Maybe it was because of all the physical changes.  With the exception of the iconic town hall, the Littleton Diner, and the old but sturdy brick post office, the place had changed quite a bit.   Even a candy store filled the big space where Parker Drugs and soda fountain used to be.  I wondered how anyone could, in good conscience, sell tons of sugar to already overweight people, even though the soda fountain where we hung out was famous for their syrupy cherry cokes.   Trendy boutiques and an art gallery occupied the space where Melnick's shoe store used to be, and the space that was once McLeod's department store was now called something else.  McLeods always held a special place in my heart, especially those few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas when Santa Claus was in town.   All of us kids would stand in line in the basement of McLeods waiting to sit on Santa's knee to tell him what a good girl or boy we had been.  Meanwhile, our mothers shopped upstairs uninterrupted.   Also on Main Street there were small, brightly painted pianos placed on just about every block, and I thought about Mrs. Wright, who for years taught piano lessons to most kids in town.   She would have loved those miniature pianos.

Downtown Littleton was a buzz with energy on Saturday morning.  Tourists were playing on the miniature pianos,  and a beer fest and art fair were being set up near the dilapidated grist mill on the edge of the Ammonoosuc River.  I was happy to see Lahouts Country Clothing and Ski Shop still in its original location up on Union Street in Apthorp, a section of town some called the other side of the tracks.  But today Lahouts has more than just the Apthorp store.  They have several retail operations in other parts of town, proving what my Mother said was true.  "The Lahouts are a hard working family and, like us, work 24/7 in the family business.

I asked Janet if we could stop at Lahouts and check out the place. While she amused herself inside, I talked to Joe Jr., who remembered my family and told me that his dad, Joe, Sr. still lived  upstairs over the store, where he was born 94 years ago.    For as long as I can remember, Joe Sr. ran the store with his colorful sister, Gladys.  While Mom would  kibitz with Joe, Sr. about stuff I didn't understand, Gladys would take me in the back and dress me up in a latest ski outfit and try to talk me into a new pair of boots.   As we walked up the back stairs,  Joe Jr. warned me that his Dad might not be as sharp as he used to be but that he had aged well.   "Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember you," Joe Jr. said.    I didn't care.  I just wanted to see him again because he and his sister made a big impression on me as a kid, and I used to love hearing him and my mother talk about life in the old country.  You see, the Lahouts were Lebanese and my parents were Greek, and although Lebanon and Greece don't share a common border, their cultures are similar enough, so their relationship was special.  Not many people in Littleton could or would eat kibbeh.

 When Joe Sr. shuffled out into the kitchen holding on to his son's strong arm, I was surprised at how emotional I became, and I found myself choking back some tears that I didn't want old Joe to see.  I was so happy that he was still a handsome looking man, but his son was right, he didn't remember me or my Mom.  Instead, he surprised me by saying  he remembered old Mr. Perkins, how shrewd a business man he was, and how much he admired him.   I was surprised because I don't remember my Dad ever shopping in Lahouts, only my Mother and I, but obviously my father's strong business sense and outgoing personality carved a groove in Joe's brain, so he remembered my Dad after all these years.  He and I were very chatty.  He reminded me of the good old days, and how life in Littleton used to be when I was growing up.  He cautioned me to be careful riding my bike and also urged me to stretch every day to keep my body limber and strong.  I didn't stay long, but seeing Joe again at 94 was like going back in time, when my Mom and I would shop at his store.


Our childhood friends Cynthia and Karen's participation in Janet's and my weekend was very meaningful and emotional.   On Saturday evening, while we were talking together over dinner,  several facts emerged that made us question the concept of  randomness and coincidence in our lives.  It certainly begged asking questions about why I came to Littleton that particular weekend, and why Janet and I sought them out as people to confide in.  Some might call it coincidence.  Some might say it's the way the universe works.  I don't know what to call it,  but here's the thing.  When a few people from my past, with whom I've had no connection with for the last fifty years, suddenly come into my life and become very connected to me, it does make me wonder.  I think my three childhood friends will agree that some things in life are too strong and too strange to be called a coincidence.  

Sunday came way too quickly and it was time to leave.  Our last few hours were enjoyed with a $5.95 bacon and eggs special at Topic of the Town Restaurant with our friends, their spouses and others we knew from the good old days.   Having Sunday breakfast together may be a ritual for some of the Littleton crowd, but for me the gathering was something much more symbolic.  It was the culmination of a sentimental weekend in Littleton with my best friend Janet, and a reawakening of a friendship that will last forever.   It was also a reaffirmation that I have a special bond with my childhood friends that goes beyond description.  My three days with them closes the circle of a friendship that began many, many years ago.  In closing I want to send a public message to my dear friends -- Janet, Cynthia and Karen.   You have enriched my life by helping me remember the fond memories of our childhood.  I will always feel close to you for reasons you will understand. 

(L-R) PAM, CYNTHIA, JANET, & KAREN 

TWILIGHT ZONE THOUGHTS

• I popped open the umbrella and rode her to Mars.

• The day started when I closed my eyes and found myself in love.

• My favorite dessert is a a mothball covered with chocolate sauce and sprinkled with sand pebbles.

• The dentist cut out his nose hairs with pruning shears.

• When the phone rang, I logged onto my computer and saw my deceased mother on Skype.

• I couldn't tell what time of the day it was until my hands touched your face

• I drove up to visit you in my hardtop strawberry and saw you covered in vanilla ice cream.

• When I brought the cold glass of water to my lips,  it turned into absinthe.

• I closed my eyes and saw the most beautiful picture of a blank wall.

• I like washing white clothes better than dark because the results are more obvious.