Home » Posts tagged 'martine' (Page 3)

Tag Archives: martine

Road Trip

Posted on by

Tortoise at the Santa Barbara Zoo

Because of all the rain we’ve been having, Martine and I haven’t gone on any road trips lately. Today, we drove to Santa Barbara, had a great seafood lunch, and went to the Santa Barbara Zoo. Unlike the Los Angeles Zoo, there are usually fewer than 10,000 visitors present; and consequently there is about 76% less chance of having an infant stroller destroy your ankles.

Mind you, there were many small children in attendance. But that is to be expected at any zoo. It’s one of the few places one can take one’s small progeny and allow them to act like kids without inflicting too much damage to the animals and other visitors.

We’ve been visiting the Santa Barbara Zoo for upwards of twenty years, so we were saddened to hear that the two Asian elephants, Sujatha and Little Mac, died in 2019; and the zoo is not planning to replace them. Instead, their large compound is now an Australian “walkabout.”

On the way back, we took the pleasant and very rural California 126 to avoid the usual traffic jam around Oxnard and Ventura. We stopped at Francisco’s Fruit Stand in Fillmore to buy some honey, strawberries, and mandarins. I was shocked to find that taking 126 and I-405 in Santa Clarita takes no more time and eats up no more miles than taking either the Pacific Coast Highway to U.S. 101 or taking U.S. 101 all the way.

Unfortunately, Martine was in considerable pain from a pinched nerve in the back that has been bothering her for several years and getting progressively worse. Unless she finds a way of ameliorating her condition, we may not be able to go on many more trips together.

Jack Sprat

Posted on by

Hatch Chiles Being Roasted on a Grill

You have no doubt heard the old nursery rhyme:

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean.
And so between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.

Martine and I are similarly a study in contrasts. She’s a Republican; I’m an independent Libtard. She has irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), so she pretty much cannot eat anything that has a vowel in its name. I, on the other hand, love highly spiced foods, preferably including my favorite vegetable: hot chile peppers. Somehow we manage to get by despite the differences.

I think it all started with my childhood: My father was a member of the American Independent Party and a staunch supporter of George C. Wallace and his racist platform. I was originally a Democrat, but got tired of the whole circular firing squad thing. So I tend to vote Democratic—but not always on the local level and always as an Independent (No Party Affiliation)..

Somehow I think the contrasts help maintain our relationship, which has been going fairly steady for the last three decades or so. I won’t say it’s been going strong, but steady will do just fine, and I will accept it.

The Man With the Hyperactive Head

Posted on by | 1 Comment

My dentist always twits me about my chewing my teeth into oblivion. I do not think I grind my teeth at night, but she thinks I do. And there are the ruined sites of three of my long lost upper teeth. two bicuspids and a molar. She also thinks I live on a diet of jalapeño chile peppers.

In truth, there is something violent about my visage. Take my sneezes: They are so powerful that I have to be prepared to go to the bathroom after a sneezing fit. I find facial tissues to be useless, as I tend to blow them to smithereens. Like my father, I frequently rupture a capillary when I erupt. In my case, it’s usually in my left nostril.

Then there are my sinuses. Whenever there is a major change in the weather (which in L.A. means just about always), I turn into mucus man. I frequently wake Martine up with my snorting, sneezing, and nose-blowing. As she has a tendency to be insomniac, she usually requests that I transfer my drainage to the couch in the living room.

Then, too, my eyelids are constantly irritated with blepharitis. In certain times of the year, usually winter, spring, summer, and fall, my eyelids itch and generate an annoying discharge.

What’s next for me? Great gobs of earwax sticking out of my ears? Saliva that roars like a waterfall? Is my head just too damned loud?

Talking Politics

Posted on by

As Thanksgiving Day approaches, millions of families will confront their weird uncles whose political beliefs are 180° away from yours. What makes it worse is that we are living during a period in which people take a position and vociferously defend it, thinking it is right because, after all, they believe in it. And their beliefs are, of course, sacred.

Looking back over my life, I do not recall ever having been convinced by anyone’s contrary political, religious, or other opinions. It seems that our times are not conducive to producing facts or cogent reasons. We can produce a great deal of heated discussions full of vituperation.

I have always been close to people whose opinions were contrary to mine. It began with my father, who supported George C. Wallace for President and voted a straight American Independent ticket. (I got back at him by dating a pretty young Black pediatrician with a Harvard MD).

Now I live with a woman whom I love, but who is a Republican who listens to right-wing shock jocks on KABC Radio and who, in all probability, votes for Donald Trump. (If you do not know me, Trump is a candidate I would have no compunction about stabbing in a vital organ with a knife liberally smeared with dog shit.)

Do I talk politics with Martine? No. Do I talk politics with my friends? Not if I can help it, even though my friends have similar beliefs like my own.

Life is too short to wreck it by engaging in political discussions that go nowhere. And nowhere is where most of them go.

So eat your turkey and mashed potatoes and present a smiley-face to relatives who want to establish a new Reich in Washington.

Guarding Against Another Pearl Harbor Attack

Posted on by

Torpedoed Battleship at Pearl Harbor

On our last full day in Hawaii, Martine and I split up. I took a bus to Pearl Harbor and visited both the National Memorial and the Aviation Museum on Ford Island. Martine, on the other hand, revisited old haunts from previous trips before she ever met me.

Actually, the real reason Martine didn’t want to visit Pearl Harbor on this trip was their somewhat draconian policy on what you can take into the park. Especially in light of this week’s Hamas attacks on Israel, there is some point in protecting one of our most sacred war memorials from terrorists. The rule that offended Martine the most was this one forbidding:

Bags, packages, or containers that offer concealment, such as purses, handbags, backpacks, fanny packs, camera bags, diaper bags, luggage, etc. that exceed the measurements of 1.5” X 2.25” X 5.5,” are not allowed at the monument. The Pacific Fleet Submarine Museum operates a baggage storage facility near the entrance to the visitor center. There is a fee per bag for all sizes, including luggage. Visitors may use the same bag storage and parking stall for visits to all Pearl Harbor Historic Sites. Security measures are strictly enforced at all visitor destinations on Pearl Harbor.

Martine did not want to put her purse plus the other things she habitually carries into a locker for which she would have to pay. For the complete list of things you can’t take into the park, check out the mandated safety policy for visits.

It was worth seeing Pearl Harbor again. I was aware of the park’s safety policy, so I took only a small portable bag containing my insulin and necessary medications.

One thing I did not bother to see again was the Arizona Memorial, which floats atop the sunken battleship Arizona. I’ve seen it before, and I wanted to spend time at the Aviation Museum on Ford Island, which neither Martine nor I had previously visited.

Pearl is a long bus ride from Waikiki, but for me it was worth it.

Rain Rain Go Away

Posted on by

Trees at the Lyon Arboretum Near Honolulu

Our first full day in Hawaii was not a big hit with Martine. I wanted to go to the Lyon Arboretum, a large botanical garden in the mountains above Manoa run by the University of Hawaii. We could have taken a bus to a street about 0.8 miles downhill from the arboretum, but Martine did not like walking uphill that far. So we took a taxi from the Ala Moana Shopping Center.

On the way to the Arboretum, it started to drizzle; and Martine started to feel anxiety over not having her umbrella or raincoat with her. When we got to our destination, I arranged for the taxi to pick us up at 2 PM. It continued to rain on and off, so Martine did not want to walk about in the rain. So she sat down inside while I walked around.

The Arboretum is high enough in the mountains that it not only rains every day, but it rains on and off constantly. While Martine was sitting down by the gift shop, I walked around until just before the cab was due. It was beautiful. Though I had no protection against the rain, it was warm and gentle and intermittent enough not to wet me through. In the end, I wound up taking one of the trails to its end and returned to Martine, who was stewing in her chair.

To make matters worse, the cab never came. I gave the driver a generous tip; but for some unexplained reason, he shined us off. And that despite his calling me on my cell phone to say that he was coming! The park closed at 3 PM, so at that point we started walking downhill toward the #5 bus layover stop, still intending to take the cab should it arrive. Alas, it never did.

Unexpected things can happen on a trip. I believe one has to be flexible. I had researched where the bus stop was, and we eventually made it in about an hour (including several rest stops). The bus came in time and took us back to Ala Moana, where we ate dinner before returning by the #20 to Waikiki.

It’s a pity that Martine couldn’t enjoy the Arboretum. I did, even at the cost of a nasty blister on my right foot from the steep downhill grade. Such is life.

On To O’ahu

Posted on by

Tomorrow Martine and I are headed off to Honolulu for a week in the sun. The last few days, both of us have had a low-level flu. I am getting better, but Martine has a real problem with insomnia. Some years ago, she got too used to taking prescription sleeping pills and is dismayed to find that they don’t work as well as they used to. The best thing would have been not to get hooked on them in the first place, but that boat has sailed.

We’ll be staying at the same hotel we stayed at last year. It may not be on he beach, but we would prefer not to hang out at the beach. We prefer the hotels on Kuhio Avenue, one or two blocks makau (inland) from the beachfront properties on Kalakaua Avenue.

Tonight I don’t expect to get much sleep. And because of the time zone difference, tomorrow will be a 27-hour day. I expect both of us will get a good night’s sleep tomorrow.

Look for this blog to resume on Wednesday or Thursday of next week. Until then, aloha!

Third Time’s a Charm

Posted on by

Martine at Kapiolani Park in September 2022

As I mentioned in my post yesterday, Martine and I are headed back to Honolulu for another visit. Looking back at last year’s pictures, I noticed that Martine looked genuinely happy in most of them. Returning to L.A., Martine has had a difficult year—especially when she broke her wrist in two places after a fall at home. And recovery has been painfully slow, especially since the cast which she war was too tight and affected her ability to bend her fingers once it was removed.

Although I would probably be happier traipsing off to Latin America, Martine’s happiness matters to me; and I can certainly enjoy myself in Hawaii provided I stay away from most mainland tourists of the luau-frequenting variety.

We will be staying at the same hotel we stayed in last year, the Malia. Last year, it was a hotel in the Outrigger chain; now, it is the Waikiki Malia, apparently no longer part of a chain. It is not exactly on the beach, but that is no matter to us as we are not beach types. We prefer the corner of Kuhio and Lewers because of its convenient access to public transportation.

The big success story of last year’s trip was our discovery of the Honolulu bus system, the best we have seen in any American city. As senior citizens, we picked up a Senior Citizens discount Holo card, which enables us to unlimited rides for the entire month of September for $20.00 US for each of us. Compare that with high car rental fees and hotel parking rates of up to $50-60 US per night.

Amazingly, the Honolulu buses go not only all around the city, but along the Southeast (Hanauma Bay, Hawaii Kai), the Windward Coast (Kailuka, Kaneohe, La’e), the North Shore (Waimea, the Banzai Pipeline), and Central O’ahu (the Dole Pinapple Plantation). Where we would need a car would be the Leeward Coast (Ko Olina) and certain trailheads on mountain trails. If you’re thinking of going to Hawaii on a budget, I firmly recommend the public transportation and a non-luxury-priced hotel, preferably on Kuhio Avenue.

We booked our trip through the Southern California Auto Club, which I also recommend.

Do You Still Pay Your Bills by Check?

Posted on by

During the course of her daily walks, Martine finds the strangest things. Today, it was a hoard of undelivered mail consisting of invoices from which the checks paying them had been removed—presumably to find some checks that could be altered in favor of the thieves.

Mixed in with the bag of mail were food containers with food scraps, typical of the garbage stewed around my neighborhood by the homeless. It is likely that the thief was a homeless ex-con who had learned how to modify checks during a previous imprisonment.

I no longer pay bills by mail. Instead, I use the BillPay service of Bank of America. In five years of usage, I have had no problems; whereas, in previous years, I had problems with mail being delivered late or not at all. This cuts out the Postal Service and all those larcenously inclined bums who prey on it.

Tomorrow, I will give Martine a ride to the main Santa Monica Post Office with the bag of stolen mail, which she brought home from her walk. The mail was scattered all over the intersection of Wilshire Blvd. and 20th Street in Santa Monica.

Frito Pies

Posted on by

This Is the Way It Looked When I First Ate One

The first time I ate a Frito Pie, it looked like the above photo, and it was purchased from where it was invented, a lunch counter in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

The second time was today. I cooked it myself from this recipe. As I made it to please Martine, the finickiest of all eaters, there was no way I could add raw onions as a garnish. And I used a mild La Victoria Red Enchilada sauce, even though my preferences is for spicy hot dishes. I second the recommendation of using Ranch House canned beans, as they go very well with this recipe. Oh, and I recommend extra sharp cheddar cheese. By the way, don’t use any other chips other than original recipe Fritos: That’s why it’s called Frito Pie.

Tomorrow, I will serve the leftovers with cut up fresh avocado. It’s not in the recipe, but I think it would go well with it.