Park or Ship

Sometimes, when we decided to do an activity, or make a purchase, the agreed upon price looks great. That is, until you get to the bottom line. Usually the bottom line includes either parking or shipping. When you are in a resort town, many times there is not easy street parking. You are forced to put the car into a parking lot. The lot owners know this and some of them take advantage. Yesterday I saw fees as high as $48. That is more than Manhattan. Well, there is no way that I am paying that. I drove around until I found the price I wanted, $10 for the day. If I am persistent, I usually find what I want. The next type of fee I hate to pay is for shipping. If I buy and item for $4, why would I pay $7.95 to ship it. I know that the postage is only about $2 and how hard could it be to "handle" this small item? I handle things every day and never came across one item that was so big that I needed to be paid, to handle it. If the item I want does not come with a shipping price I like, I cancel the transaction. I hate to pay for extra things that are not tangible.

Tourists Have Brains

Until tomorrow, I will be in Key West. It is a resort town with a main shopping street. Last night, I was walking on the main street, looking at the stores and wandering in some of the more interesting ones. Some of the stores carried items that are sold for much less,where I live. As I was browsing, a sales person came up to me. He was trying to talk me into buying the items. I politely said no. He kept insisting. I kept saying no, politely. As I tried to walk away, he followed me, still insisting that his price was the  lowest. I am not a rude person, and never turn my back and just leave. I know this is his job, but sometimes you have to know when enough is enough. Finally, in one store, the man was unrelenting. I had to say that I could buy the item he was selling, in this case perfume, for less, at home. He told me if I could get it for less, I was buying counterfeits. I asked him why he would think that. He said that "you tourist never know what you are buying". That is when I was forced to put on my "Nasty Shoes". I told him, in no uncertain terms,what I felt about his sales skills, and that by this conversation, alone, I am getting the feeling that he is the dishonest one. I saw him get agitated, which, sorry to say, was my intention. I am on vacation, just let me shop pleasantly.

Bentleys' Mom

I arrived in Florida yesterday. As usual, I arrived at the airport early. I was sitting across from a young woman , with a silver tote bag. I realized that it was a dog carrier, when I saw the air vents. I started to talk to her and she was very responsive. We exchanged stories about our puppies, going into details about everything from birth to the present. Her puppy's name was Snickers. He was a tiny Maltese. Then she told me that this was her second time as a "mom". Her first "child" Bentley was run over by a car. Even though I love Shelby, I do not consider him my child. He is my dog. I know I said how hard it is to leave him, but I still live in the reality, that he is an animal, albeit a very cute one. This girl was about 24 years old. After the "mom" comment I started to pay a bit more attention to her demeanor. Something was off. She took out her boarding pass and asked what seat I was in, because she hoped we were next to each other. We were 12 rows away. I do not think I could have spent 3 more hours with Bentleys' mom.

The People At Home

Today, I am going to Florida, again. It will be the second of three trips this winter. While I love going to see my parents, I cannot help missing the people that stay behind. I still call home daily, to see what is going on. Just because I am not there, does not mean I am not there, in spirit. The only one that I cannot contact is Shelby. He is on his own vacation, at the vet. This time he will have a haircut, so he will be very handsome when I pick him up. I cannot believe how heart wrenching it is to say goodbye to him, when I drop him off. Even though he is staying at the vet that we have used for many years, and we know all of the assistants, I still feel like I am abandoning him. I must sound nutty when I ask them to hug and kiss him a few times a day. They say this is normal. If I could dress him up in baby clothes and smuggle him onto the plane, I would. If anyone questioned me, I could say that my "baby" has a hormone problem and that is why he is so hairy.

Good Morning

To me, the term "Good Morning", has two meanings. The first one is the standard greeting that you give to people you see that day. The second is the definition of what a "good morning" means to me. In my world, I have a certain criteria that defines a good morning. It starts off with still liking the outfit that I laid out the night before. It moves on to having my puppy, Shelby, do everything he needed to do, when I walked him. Next, if I put in my contact lenses, without having a stray piece of dust, annoyingly cling on to them, it is a bonus. Lastly, at the end of my morning routine, if my eyeliner goes on the same width on both eyes, wow. As far as I am concerned, all of my planets are now aligned. It is a "Good Morning".

Push My Button

Over the weekend, I visited the new "Racino" that opened up near my house. It took a few years to build, but I never knew about it, until after it opened. I guess no one made a big deal about it. A "Racino" is a combination of Casino and Racetrack. I am not a gambler, so I just went to see what it was all about. The building was beautiful. All lit up with a grand entrance. When I walked in, the sound of the gaming machines filled the air. I walked around and saw hundreds of people on line, waiting for the buffet. Hundreds more were waiting to sign up for a casino membership card. This Racino, like the others in New York State, only has slot machines. Table games are not legal, unless they are run by the Indian Tribes. I decided to be bold and play $5 on the slot machine. In a matter of 5  minutes, I lost it all. Since I had another 55 minutes until I was to meet my family, I wandered around, observing. The room looked like it was filled with a bunch of mindless robots, sitting in front of a colorfully lit box, pressing a button, repeatedly. It was not like in the old days, when you put in coins and pulled a metal arm. They kept pushing buttons, until all of their money was gone. What was the sense of it? We all know that the casino wins. That's where they get the money to pay the electric company, for all of the lights. When it was time to leave, we waited for the elevator to take us back to the parking garage. When the doors opened and the people emerged, ready to go lose their money, my sister said, "stay in the elevator, it costs less".

Tools and Shoes

There is a book titled "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus". It is about the differences between the two sexes. We think differently. It is just biological. It is very apparent in our shopping preferences. Home Depot is to a man, what a shoe store is to a woman. We love the smell of leather. They love the smell of wood and rubber. Put a man in Home Depot and it is like a kid in a candy store. Since my son started working on his house, I have a new vocabulary. I now know what the work torque means. I can define reciprocal, in tool terms.  I know that there are two kinds of routers. One for wood and one for computers. Just as women are never too thrilled to wander around the lumber aisles of Home Depot, men are not to thrilled to wander around the aisles of a shoe store. I guess it goes back to the cave man days. Humans are just hard wired differently.