phyz
Muse
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2004
- Messages
- 965
Unlike my fellow cruisers with time-management skills, I didn't keep a journal beyond my photos. Since I'm now waist-deep in other activities, I wanted to write something down before I forget. With any luck, your recollections will spark some of my own. It was a week of considerable stimulation, and I don't want to lose the details. Such as...
Randi's fascination with Splenda and its chlorine atom substitution formulation.
Getting a chance to get to know A a little bit better. As others have no-doubt said, the A stands for "awesome." What a kind, insightful, effusive, and upbeat soul. I think Steve Martin joked that you couldn't play sad music on a banjo*; I don't think you can be sad when A's around. Her only weakness? Promising the Freebird dollar she never earned to one Little BA.
"How sounds that?" There were but a few obstacles to us language-challenged travelers (none worth mentioning outside the airport). I'm always impressed when someone speaks my language when I can't speak theirs. I don't complain about accents. So I adopted "How sounds that?" into my own lexicon.
Getting to know Chebutykin. She's the kind of people you booked this cruise to meet. Hip, creative, funny, and impervious to the needs of sleep.
We have plenty of photographs, but we'll lose a sense of the smells. The island "fragrances" weren't all bad. And for the dry-heat Sacramentan, the heaviness of the air and the relative constancy of the temperature were notable.
Scrut is much kinder than he wants you to know. He'll punch me for telling you that, but that's OK. He endured my stories more than anyone should have to.
Getting to chat with Randi for about an hour about high school education and how it was when he was coming up. And how excited he was over the high-speed video clips I showed him.
The low-level tension hoping to not get tagged with the cruise bug that claimed a few hours of time and comfort from some of the cruisers.
The charm of Little BA. Any preteen who--upon denting her ring on a restaurant table--complains, "I find the malleability of this ring unacceptable"--is OK by me.
And the Waggletts were a kick, too. As Indefatigable as Isla Santa Cruz, and they got along better than any brothers of that age I've ever known. The journeyman guitarist even had Randi singing along to "Yellow Submarine."
Talking photo/camera shop with ScottH. And helping him capture the sharks (in images). Hard to believe we couldn't light up that island off the starboard bow with all that Canon firepower. Oh well, at least we tried.
George Hrab's Elements was a bonding experience. The stuff of legends. And what a sincere and interested guy! The last-night singalong marathon was a perfect way to close out the Adventure.
Too many groovy cruisers to mention. Hanging out with DI + wife, Doubt, DoubtingStephen, Terry, Hutch, and others whose names I already lost track of... never got old for me. And I apologize if it did for any of them.
Wowbagger's excitement at scoring an infraction on a Christian forum. You can't buy that kind of moment. Had to be there.
Trying not to overeat at every meal. Not always succeeding.
Straggling behind the hiking group in hopes of finding a composition. Then trying to catch up by galloping across the pahoehoe/boulder fields with 20+ pounds of camera gear bounding along. Trying to stay vertical and succeeding.
Jeff's bartending and storytelling in the wee hours of Friday AM. That's all I'll say about that. Except "Creme de Banana," and dumped whisky. (Spend that dollar in good health, mon ami; you earned it!)
Randi enjoying every audience that gathered around him, teaching tricks to the young'uns (out of sight of the grown-ups, of course).
Hoping for more sunshine. Being reminded of how harsh the vertical rays can be when it did come out. Not getting burned all week.
OK, I've said too much. More than I intended. And yet I haven't said enough. Anyway; your turn!
*The Magnetic Fields notwithstanding.
Randi's fascination with Splenda and its chlorine atom substitution formulation.
Getting a chance to get to know A a little bit better. As others have no-doubt said, the A stands for "awesome." What a kind, insightful, effusive, and upbeat soul. I think Steve Martin joked that you couldn't play sad music on a banjo*; I don't think you can be sad when A's around. Her only weakness? Promising the Freebird dollar she never earned to one Little BA.
"How sounds that?" There were but a few obstacles to us language-challenged travelers (none worth mentioning outside the airport). I'm always impressed when someone speaks my language when I can't speak theirs. I don't complain about accents. So I adopted "How sounds that?" into my own lexicon.
Getting to know Chebutykin. She's the kind of people you booked this cruise to meet. Hip, creative, funny, and impervious to the needs of sleep.
We have plenty of photographs, but we'll lose a sense of the smells. The island "fragrances" weren't all bad. And for the dry-heat Sacramentan, the heaviness of the air and the relative constancy of the temperature were notable.
Scrut is much kinder than he wants you to know. He'll punch me for telling you that, but that's OK. He endured my stories more than anyone should have to.
Getting to chat with Randi for about an hour about high school education and how it was when he was coming up. And how excited he was over the high-speed video clips I showed him.
The low-level tension hoping to not get tagged with the cruise bug that claimed a few hours of time and comfort from some of the cruisers.
The charm of Little BA. Any preteen who--upon denting her ring on a restaurant table--complains, "I find the malleability of this ring unacceptable"--is OK by me.
And the Waggletts were a kick, too. As Indefatigable as Isla Santa Cruz, and they got along better than any brothers of that age I've ever known. The journeyman guitarist even had Randi singing along to "Yellow Submarine."
Talking photo/camera shop with ScottH. And helping him capture the sharks (in images). Hard to believe we couldn't light up that island off the starboard bow with all that Canon firepower. Oh well, at least we tried.
George Hrab's Elements was a bonding experience. The stuff of legends. And what a sincere and interested guy! The last-night singalong marathon was a perfect way to close out the Adventure.
Too many groovy cruisers to mention. Hanging out with DI + wife, Doubt, DoubtingStephen, Terry, Hutch, and others whose names I already lost track of... never got old for me. And I apologize if it did for any of them.
Wowbagger's excitement at scoring an infraction on a Christian forum. You can't buy that kind of moment. Had to be there.
Trying not to overeat at every meal. Not always succeeding.
Straggling behind the hiking group in hopes of finding a composition. Then trying to catch up by galloping across the pahoehoe/boulder fields with 20+ pounds of camera gear bounding along. Trying to stay vertical and succeeding.
Jeff's bartending and storytelling in the wee hours of Friday AM. That's all I'll say about that. Except "Creme de Banana," and dumped whisky. (Spend that dollar in good health, mon ami; you earned it!)
Randi enjoying every audience that gathered around him, teaching tricks to the young'uns (out of sight of the grown-ups, of course).
Hoping for more sunshine. Being reminded of how harsh the vertical rays can be when it did come out. Not getting burned all week.
OK, I've said too much. More than I intended. And yet I haven't said enough. Anyway; your turn!
*The Magnetic Fields notwithstanding.
