In Search of HooDoo Heaven

Hiking National Parks out West - Lessons Learned:

1.     Don’t fool yourself into believing that there will be no paybacks if you try to hike up and down mountains for 5 or 6 hours a day, and you haven’t gotten yourself into any kind of shape.  You know how after a tough workout you describe how certain parts of your body hurt?  In this case, describing what didn’t hurt would be easier.  And in this state of endless agony, you’re constantly asking people who are returning from a summit that you’re trying to reach, “How much further to the top?”  Their answers are always so disappointing that you think they’re screwing with your head – They’re not.  You’ll also find that while you’re under exhausting stress, you, your loved ones, and your very close friends grow patient-less…even angry.  I was sure that at a couple of points along the trail I’d get a rock to the back of the head.

2.     Even if you think you’re a camel, drink water, lots of water.  What I found out after the fact was that when stressing your muscles, lactic acid builds up in them causing night cramps, water flushes it out.

3.     Do Not try to navigate the maze of canyons without a map.  Fight the overwhelming force that tells you, “Oh I don’t need no stinking map.”  Unless of course your mission is to get lost.  (Note to self: Bad idea to blame your spouse re forgetting map)  The trail signs are completely inadequate - we wound up on a “Horse Trail.”  No sign of horses but you could definitely tell they were there.  We should have figured out that we were in trouble when we lost site of any humans, but we had more than enough evidence that horses were there.  After a while the smell got to be so strong that I started to question what they were feeding these animals – Think Kramer, Rusty and Beeferino.   Quick Note:  After using an ancient unisex outhouse where it was apparent that they had an “annual” service contract, I found myself looking forward to the smell of the Manure Trail.

4.     And the Don’t Leave Home Without Them items: Vitamints, Triple Strength Bi-Flex Joint Health, Advil, Advil PM, Zantac, Tums, Gas-X, and everyone’s favorite – ImodiumAD.

5.     An Observation about Bryce Canyon National Park:  Ebenezer Bryce lived in an area just outside Bryce Canyon called Tropic.  Yes Tropic.  He lived there from 1875 to 1880.  Five years – and for that he had a National Park named after him.  I was thinking to myself, those must have been the most stellar, show stopping five years anyone ever had since the dawn of time.  So I asked one of the of the Park Rangers about it.  He said, “You’ve got a good point.  These days you need to either a famous inventor or a president to get a National Park named after you.”  (Look for Trump Tower to be submitted as an entry for our next National Park)  The ranger went on to say that Ebenezer Bryce (and here I thought only Scrooge had that first name) was part of the Mormon Church and his main job was to do reconnaissance work for the Church and scope out new wilderness areas for potential settlements.  Once he’d find an area, he’d help the new Mormon settlers get going, building houses and showing them how to farm.   Once established, he’d move on.  He did this fourteen times and finally settled in Arizona.  The ranger felt that the magnitude of the number of times he did this was impressive and that by itself warrants the naming.   I still thought it was very weak.

6.     And last but not least - Plan Ahead.  National Parks have crowded times and not so crowded times.  You really need to do the homework to figure out how to maximize your enjoyment of the parks – Well worth the effort.  Truly Amazing Sites.

7.     “Climb a Mountain or spend a week in the Woods.  Wash your Spirit Clean.” – John Muir

You Know You Need a Vacation When....

So yesterday I got to the massive Secaucus train station Park & Lock at 6:36AM…at least that’s what my claim ticket said.  I got there early enough to get a good spot up against the walkway closer to the station.  I’m in the zone, I get out of my car, walk around the passenger side, grab my knapsack that feels like it has a bowling ball in it, and head for the train.

I return in the evening, racing past a number of people who are also heading to the parking lot.  I’m going to get there first, avoid the long payment lines and get on the road.  I pay my fee and briskly walk towards my car.  My car is not there.   I double back a couple of times checking my sanity but I know I parked in this particular area.  I finally come to the conclusion that, “Ah Crap, someone stole my car!” 

I’m super pissed now and sweating bullets.   I head to the valet guys by the payment area and break the bad news that it looks like my car has been stolen.  My point person, a guy who looks to be in his early 30s tells me not to worry, this happens all the time.   Not that cars are stolen, but people forget where they’ve parked their car.  I assure him I know where I parked my car, and I really just want him to call the police.  Instead, we walk up and down the area where I said I parked my car clicking away at my keyless remote fob- (2015 Mazda CX5).  We find nothing.  Now I can see my new associate eyeing me up and down.  I can tell he’s thinking I’m either a geriatric or a lush and can’t remember where I parked my car.  First he questions me and says well maybe you came in, left and came back later and parked somewhere else.  My first thought is, why in God’s name would anybody do that, but I show him my time-stamped ticket.  He’s not satisfied and decides to take me on a tour of the whole parking lot as we look for my car.  He begins picking out random cars asking me if they might be mine.  My patience is paper-thin and I decide to call my wife…Did I just say that?

I call my wife and explain the situation and ask her to text me the Vin and license plate number of the car.  I figure I’m going to need that info when the police arrive.  My wife is having problems finding the info which is not endearing her to me.  Then she asks me, “But now they have our address and a garage door opener, what are we going to do?”  It was probably only a one or two second mental pause, but I collected myself, valiantly fought off the desire to say the first thought that came to my mind and said good bye.

            In the end, my tormentor asked for my key, held it up in the air and pressed down on the lock button and said, I think I hear something over there…pointing to the valet area.  I think he’s lost it because I've told him no less than five times that I didn’t park my car in valet.  We walk over, and there’s my car...parked in the valet area.  A couple of the valet crew are standing around with big smiles on their faces.  It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for me.  They tell me that in the morning they found the car running with the door open, so they brought it over to the valet area.   I’m super relieved, but feel like an idiot.  I pass out a couple of $20 bills to my new friends, and then the guy who took me on the 3-hour tour says, “Oh that’s right, I was here this morning when that happened…but I just forgot about it.” 

HAPPY LABOR DAY WEEKEND!

Santa ran out of Presents

I believe that our society has become too automated.  Just about every one of our monthly bills can be paid without lifting a pen.  Yes it saves time, but god forbid you have a discrepancy.  If you do, you will need an act of said god to get it corrected.  It seems that once you go into the automated world you’ve given up your right to talk to a person, at least one that has a pulse.  “Oh you have a complaint?  We’ll connect you right away with a service representative – our current wait time is 72 hours, would you like to hold?”   Alternately, you can press one to speak to an agent about buying something new and get connected with Carmelann right away.  There is some satisfaction to be had as you hear Carmelann struggling when she realizes that she’s been had.

Next area where we’ve let computers take over way too much is JIT.  JIT stands for “Just In Time” as in inventory systems.   The idea behind JIT is that with the rise of “Big Data” computer systems, they have collected enough knowledge about our buying habits that they can anticipate how much inventory should be on the selves at just the right time - saving Ba-Zillions of dollars.   Well I think we all know that computer systems are not infallible.   Case in point, the Matthew Broderick movie, “War Games.”  And to reinforce this point, my daughter this past week went into a local ice cream shop where they can mix up multiple ice cream flavor concoctions.  My daughter wanted Peanut Butter and Chocolate.  They were out of Peanut Butter.  I get that.  How many people want peanut butter flavored ice cream.  But then she asked for Chocolate and they told her they were out of Chocolate too.   I’m sorry, but in my humble opinion that’s not acceptable.  You want to run out of lima bean or broccoli flavored ice cream, fine.   But you can’t call yourself an ice cream shop and not have on hand, one of the original two ice cream flavors that’s been around since biblical times.  It’s like going into McDonalds and having them tell you, “We don’t have hamburgers today.”  

But the Piece of Resistance happened yesterday.  I went to the United States Post Office to take care of two tasks.  First, I needed to have my Dad’s temporary change of address renewed.  He received a letter about it, so I figured the people at the post office could help.  No luck.  A very pleasant postal worker told me that it would be best if I called a 1-800 number listed on a form she handed me.  (Sure, I’ve got 72 hours to kill.) Okay, I understand.  If you’re not sure, don’t take a chance and screw up someone’s mail delivery.  But then I asked her for two books of stamps.  Again, with a pleasant smile on her face, she tells me, “We don’t have any stamps.”  I hesitated but then smiled and gave a laugh, as I’ve never known this person to joke around with me.  But this time she really got me.  I said, “That’s very funny, but really, I’d like two books of stamps.”  She’s still smiling at me, even laughing a bit too.  She reiterates, “We’ve run out of stamps.”  Now I’m thinking, “Okay lady, the joke’s over.  Hand over those stamps, I need to be on my way.”  Then it finally sinks in, she isn’t joking, she has no stamps.  The United States Post Office has no stamps.  The mightiest country on the face of the earth and - No Stamps!  I was incredulous and at the same time burst out laughing asking her, “But you’re the Post Office, how can you not have any stamps?”  She said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”  In my mind, the Post Office not having stamps is like Santa Claus sailing down your chimney, opening up his sack and saying, “Snag, No Presents!”  

What craziness could be next, you pull up to a gas station and you’re told, “No Gas?”  Now that’s a stretch, right?

Yesterday Can't Be Changed

I hate the saying, “Yesterday can’t be changed.  Let it go, move forward.” Here’s why: 

I’ve been a chronically bad sleeper for years…actually decades. It’s the sole reason I changed all of my computer passwords to “Cranky.”

What makes this crappy sleep situation even more infuriating is that very uncharacteristically for me; I actually tried to do something about it -12 years ago.  You see back in 2004, I decided to pay a dollar amount equal to the ransom of a low-end prince for one of the first, “Sleep Number” beds.  It was completely embarrassing how much I paid for it, but I was hell bent on solving this problem once and for all.  My plan was to throw at it, all of the latest technology that sleep science had to offer.  In the store, the bed feels like I died and went to heaven.  And their pillows, they cradle your head like nothing you’ve every felt.  The pillows are the icing on this bed cake.  Naturally, they cost extra which boggles my mind considering the price of the bed.  But what would be the sense in getting this new hi-tech bed, and not have these pillows.  I rationalize that it’s an extremely small price to pay for what is almost assuredly going to be a near-orgasmic experience each time I hit the hay.

The bed shows up and the technician assembles it.  I notice a lot of plastic in the construction.  Also, there are two rubber bladders that hold the air that can be adjusted to provide the level of firmness you desire.  I’m pretty sure I’ve seen these air bladders in the swimming pool section at Target. 

About two years in, I notice I have a slow leak in my bed.  Luckily, or maybe unluckily, it’s only leaking on my side.  I’m now sleeping down in a gully.  I call the customer service line to get some help with the Cadillac of beds that I own.  My thought is that considering the small fortune I paid, they’ll be quick to correct the situation, gratis.  I was mistaken.  I’m told, that they’ll be more than happy to send me the necessary “Parts”, after I pay for them; and that “I” could fix the bed.  I was silent for at least 20 seconds.  I truly believed I was either on candid camera, or I was being punk’d, again.  Neither situation was the case – I’m incredulous.  I’m questioning, “Is it not true that I still live in the United States of America?  And isn’t our motto still, “Justice for All”?   Parts come, and after paying for some technical help, the bed is back together.

Over the years, like 10 years, the running joke in my family is that I sleep in the valley.  That’s my side of the bed.  Also many years ago the bed began to sag towards the outside of the bed at the level of my shoulders - To the point where I could roll off.  After a halfhearted review of the situation, I decided to roll up some old bath towels and insert them between the mattress and box spring to prop up the edge.  Problem somewhat solved.  And the pillow that used to go everywhere with me, it’s now a lumpy mess unable to hold its shape.

So for the last six months my sleep situation has been especially bad.  If I go to bed at 10PM, I wake up around 1AM and then toss and turn for the next 5 hours with lower back pain.  It’s gotten to the point where I dread heading upstairs to go to bed.  Last week (after a decade) I decided something needed to be done.  First, I heard about MyPillows.com and ordered two.  Then my wife and I went to a bed store.  I will not say the name, but I can tell you they are professionals.  I had done my research with Consumer Reports and was going back to a very highly rated standard coil and form mattress.  The price seemed very reasonable.  But as is usual the case, I walked out with a mattress that cost 3X what I thought I’d be spending.  I will say I did not do well on price, but they must have had an over-abundance of sheets, gel-coats and pillows, because we now have enough of these items to open a small bed and breakfast.

Just before our new bed is to arrive today, we began to strip down the Sleep Number bed.  The bed that was once my pride and joy.  I notice lying on the ground, under where my shoulders would be, is four-inch piece of industrial grade plastic.  I decide to get on my back and look under the bed to investigate.  I can see that the plastic box spring has cracked where one of the metal crossbeams of the bed frame meets the box spring.  This crack and the missing plastic have caused the bed to be lower where my shoulders would rest.   It gets better:  When the guys come with the new bed, they first remove the old box springs.  My wife notices that the actual bed frame is connected to the headboard (only by my head mind you) about three inches too low.  The bed frame is completely off kilter.  I’ve been sleeping (sort of) like this for over a decade.  I’ll never get that sleep back…It’s gone.   My wife tries to console me saying, “But how could you have known?”  In a state of complete disbelief in how I conduct my life, I reply in a tone of angst and resignation saying, “How could I not have?”

So our new bed is freshly installed and my wife and I are lying on our backs staring up at the ceiling.  My wife turns her head to talk to me and with a very surprised look says, “What are you doing up here?”