Not Really Funny

I have recently decided that I am NOT a fan of practical jokes.  Some Karma in the air has forced two upon me in the past couple weeks and I just have to spout off my displeasure.

The first entailed a friend bringing her husband by the motel to say "hi" one day when she knew I would be working.  I had never met him.  I was "buzzed" to the office from another part of the property and charged up to the front door.  I greeted the gentleman standing there and asked if I could help him.  He asked if I rented rooms by the hour.  I responded, no, that we only rented nightly - all the while thinking of names for the man like "sleazeball, pervert, creepazoid" etc.  I wasn't taken aback, because, frankly, people do occasionally inquire of this form of rental but generally they rent the room and if they leave after a couple hours, hey, not my business.  The man was so persistent that I became flustered until I looked over at the woman standing off to the side and saw my friend.  Frankly, she didn't look so amused either but he thought it was a real hoot.

Today I had a guest walk into the office and announce that the masseuse that the desk clerk on duty last night had procured had not shown up.  OK, in my naive and Clorox addled head, I am thinking licensed physiotherapist and he was thinking backroom in Hong Kong.  After I apologized and fussed  trying to solve the dilemma because I thought the guest was really upset,  he burst out laughing at his own joke and my response.

And there was the epic practical joke last year that still makes me cringe.  My son's boss came to visit with Matt for a fishing trip and after dinner at a local joint and probably too many beers, the boss thought it would be so much fun to stiff the waitress he had been chatting up during dinner and pretend like we didn't leave a tip.  I protested heartily but he insisted and since he was paying the bill, and was my son's boss, what could I say.  I just hustled out of the way since I was embarrassed.  However, the waitress marched out of the restaurant to follow him where he was waiting while just beaming with pride over his cleverness.  She was not amused, nor was I.  I do have to say that he tipped her very generously, but I suppose she would have rather had less tip and more dignity.

Because, as I see it, a practical joke is funny only as long as someone is not used for the entertainment of others.  So, please, in the future, don't use me in your own little fantasies of funny, gentlemen.  Save it for your guy friends who somehow might think you are clever. 

Motel stories

I have people tell me that they enjoy hearing stories about the Sea Dell motel, so I thought I would entertain with the latest.  Harry received a call early in the AM last night from the Holiday Inn Express.  They are the only "chain" hotel in Marathon, where the Sea Dell is located and when they have overflow, they send them to us (nice compliment!).  Harry picks up the phone after hours when our staff has gone home, and we have a person who will go and do late night check-ins.  We cannot complain about the phone ringing in the middle of the night - because, as Harry says, "it's money calling."

However, last night the desk clerk at the Holiday Inn had a guest who was 57 years old with no credit card who wanted to use their mother's card number.  It is the Holiday Inn's strict policy to not use another person's credit card unless they can get the registration signed and faxed back by the card owner.  And this potential guest said his mother did not have a fax machine.  We also have that policy in place, but there are occasionally situations where we break that rule.  For example, we have had young people stranded with car problems and didn't have enough money to rent a room for the night and we will discuss with parents on the phone and approve a charge. 

Harry asked the clerk if the guest had a valid driver's license.  No, the guest's license was expired and he arrived on bicycle.  Harry then asked for the mother's phone number so that Harry could talk to her.  The clerk asked the guest for the phone number and then said in an absolute panic that she had to hang up, the man fell to the floor clutching his chest stating he had chest pains and that she thought he was having a heart attack and she had to call 911.

Harry called the clerk back after a half hour to check on how the man was.   The clerk informed Harry that when the EMS arrived, they knew the man, that he as a runaway from a halfway house and had "mental problems."  The poor clerk had been terrified.  The man was carted away.  Another day in the life of the motel business.

Girlfriends

Peggy Kordic, Me, Alex Kordic, Fern Grunberger and Lynne Goldman

I visited Cleveland earlier this month to help host a shower for the lovely Alex Kordic who will be getting married in March.  I met her mom, Peggy, and another woman, Fern, in grad school at Case Western Reserve University shortly after I moved to Cleveland in 1977.  That move was a low point in my life - I think it snowed the first three months straight, I didn't know a soul and I moved away from a city I loved.  I remember that the interior of the entire house we purchased in Shaker Hts. was painted beige, the carpet was beige and the view from the front yard was dirty white.  It was a colorless time those first few months!

However, I met these women as well as other wonderful people and neighbors over the next year, and fell in love with Cleveland.  I had lived down the jokes about the "mistake on the lake" and the Cuyahoga River burning, etc. when my ex got his job offer there, and I moved with a real dread.  But, the city turned out to be full of interesting things to do; culture, beautiful parks and neighborhoods, beaches, and much more.  If only it didn't have the most lengthy and dreary winters in the universe I would say it was perfect.

Peggy, Fern and I bonded and have been friends now for about 35 years.  That is longer than I have been married to one person!  We originally had a "women's group" which was all the post bra-burning rage.  A group of us sat around an evening a month detailing our current issues and problems.  Since most of the group were therapists, we had free counseling to deal with life's ups and downs.  Then we settled into normal girlfriend relationships and have helped each other through every conceivable life event.  In fact, I have often thought a book would be quite juicy in details.  Relationship problems, divorces, births, deaths, and every imaginable thing in between.  I have laughed at how the conversations at our dinner dates have paralleled women's aging issues.  Greying hair, wrinkles, pregnancy, gynecologic issues, etc.  When we started having to whip out reading glasses to see the menus, and fan ourselves through a hot flash I knew it was downhill slide! 

I saw Alex the day she was born and have watched her grow up.  Now she is getting married to a great guy and we have all hopes that she will have a wonderful married life blessed with healthy children and joy and peace.  And, I hope that the young women at the shower who are in her bridal party will always be there for her - to hold her up during hard times, to listen when she needs an ear, to help her analyze her problems and create her own solutions, and to share her joy.  And most importantly, to laugh with her all along the journey she has ahead.

Paper Overload

I have deforested about an acre recently in the amount of paper products I have used responding to the million projects we are involved in.  Voluntarily?  No, not really.  I just finished a 75+ page response to the lawyer who has sued us regarding ADA (Americans for Disabilities Act).  Harry has made our motel more than 100% compliant by doing work not required until 2013, and has done a beautiful job after weeks of non-stop labor.  We want to be compliant but who knew we were not?  An older property has so many issues to fix and the rules and codes (which are Federal and State) are so complex, and difficult to understand, that it was like solving the Rubik's cube blind and one handed.  But, it is done.  And, we fully expect the court to make this lawyer pay for our legal fees, because he is frankly, a douche bag.  Sorry, just couldn't resist saying that.  That expression is so inanely stupid that it is fun to say and for some reason, just fits! 

And, just when I finished, I got a fax with the forms from the electric company to fill out because their power surge last week fried our entire guestroom telephone service.  So this means, estimates, hire someone (Sam!), and file a claim which looks to be pages long.  Perhaps they make the forms so daunting so people will just say "screw it" and toss them in the trash?

Everyone knows how complex just living and dealing with mail, email, forms, documents, bills, warranties, taxes, etc. can be.  Add a business to that and it seems like we will never be ahead.  Harry always has his irons in so many fires and what I didn't realize was that before he had an office with endless file cabinets and a secretary to bark orders to who would file, ignore or burn all of the crap that he collects and I never saw all of it. Just his shirt pocket alone houses enough data and things that he could probably build shelter if we ever get stranded somewhere.  I mean, I find the most odd items around the house.  I thought I would share a couple with you, and if you can guess what they are, I will bake you a pie next time I see you.

Hot in Cleveland

I am not referring to the temperature, or menopausal state, but the name of the match play team I was invited (and happily accepted) to join for a weekend match play golf outing at Nemacolin Resort in the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania.  I had traveled to golf events with four of the members in the past.  The three new friends were delightful additions to my golf buddy list.  These are great women, all connected through EWGA (Executive Women's Golf Association).  All smart, competent, successful women who love the game of golf.  Add fun loving to the description and you have one hell of a weekend.

We didn't win the match play event to advance to the finals in California.  The first day's round was called after nine holes due to pouring rain which was a disappointment and altered the possible outcomes.  But, the weekend was a classy event and if you are looking to play golf, learn the rules, learn the game, have the chance to enter and travel to competitive events and make fantastic friends, this league is the best! 

Family Time

I love this photo.  Happy smiles.  Tanned faces.  Damn, we look good!

My sons, Matt and Sam and Matt's wife Megan and their kids, Jack and Ruby all out to eat at Doc Ford's on Sanibel Island.  Order Yucatan shrimp - you will want to lick the bowl.

We had a week crammed full of activity.  Swimming in pools and ocean(s) - Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico.  Snorkeling.  Fishing offshore and flats.  Collecting shells, sea life, snails, lizards and more.  I just released a pet crab this morning.  That was while I was picking up and putting away and sniffling because I miss them already...

Word Puzzle

My father, and a group of his buddies, owned a hunting camp in the Pennsylvania mountains named Camp YoHo (for Youngstown, Ohio where they lived).  My siblings and I have wonderful memories of the camp.  It had one large "great room" with a dining table that must have seated 20+, a huge fireplace, requisite worn out and musty smelling furniture, a kitchen and an upstairs "bunk room" lined with bunk beds and single beds.  I believe it sleep 12.  Try sleeping with 11 other people in various states of snoring, grunting and, according to my children, farting.  Anyway, as a kid, we didn't care one bit.  Actually there were two camps because when the Kinzua dam was built, the government paid the landowners who would be flooded out and a new camp was built on the edge of the Alleghany forest.  So, our memories sort of blend together between the two camps and many weekends and longer were spent hiking, exploring, fishing, water skiing, jumping off "big rock" and generally, just messing around.  There was no TV, and we did not miss it one bit.  There was an old radio and occasionally you could get reception for a baseball game.  The nearby town, within walking distance, was Westline.  I think there may have been a population of 30.  There was a strange odor emanating from the town and we believe it was built on a toxic chemical dump.  I think we imagined that because everyone in town seemed a bit inbred and odd.  Perhaps the odor was a smokehouse, because it always smelled like bacon to me.  The Westline in is still there and I remember going there to drink beer (okay, so we weren't kids - or were we?) and playing Pacman and the walk home to the cabin in that pitch black with the amazing stars overhead - priceless!

We took friends and family with us to the camp.  How can we forget Uncle Homer and Dad jumping from bed to bed trying to kill a bat with a broom while my baby sister, Mary Beth, sleep peacefully in her crib.  Why didn't anyone move her out of there first??  And Uncle Charles bringing home a snapping turtle hanging with jaws clenched around a thick twig for us nieces and nephews to admire.  And to tease and torture us all evening about the wonderful turtle soup he was going to make the next day out of our new pet.  And how the next morning the turtle was missing from its jail and for probably twenty years, no one confessed to the release until cousin Mary finally admitted that she had snuck down during the night to "free" it.  There was the infamous potato soup that was simmering on the stove and when each adult went by the pot, added more seasoning until we sat down to dinner and the soup was practically inedible.  Speaking of the stove - you had to light the pilot.  That adventure took off my former sister-in-laws eyebrows during one mini-explosion.  And, the most exciting addition to the first cabin was a bathroom because prior to that, there was only an outhouse.  My brother Tom and I were recently reminiscing about the bathrooms, which  always seemed to have a thin layer of moisture on every surface and a sign on the door for Bucks and Does.  But the best sign was hanging over the door for you to ponder if you happened to be sitting for any time, and Tom just sent it to me and jogged my mountains memories...

SEVILLE DER DAGO A TOUSIN BUSIS INAROW.
NOMO DEMAIN BUSIS DEMIS TROUX
SUMMIT COUSIN SUMMIT DOUX.


If you cannot figure it out, the translation is:

See Willy, there they go a thousand busses in a row.
No Moe, them ain't busses them is trucks.
Some with cows in, some with ducks.

On "Big Rock" in 2004