From our weekly issue dated July 23, 2008

All right, here goes a rambling recap of the four-day detour, plus two flying [in airplanes], to get from Medford to Carlsbad in San Diego County to visit fam. First, we had to pack for the trip. This was a trifle difficult because Jellirabbit the black/white cat kept climbing into Jan’s suitcase, and refused to get out. He likes to travel.

Waiting for a flight in Medford, there were overlapping announcements from airlines. Difficult to comprehend what was being said. And one announcer must have taken a speed-talking course. Quite difficult to understand. We missed our planned flight because it was full, and we fly space-available/stand-by. While we waited I amused myself by wandering, and picked up 36-cents in change on the carpet.

Also while waiting I had the misfortune of glancing periodically at the TV in the boarding area. Saw hunks of The Hung & The Breathless, As the Stomach Churns, and The Bulled & The Bountiful. Everyone in the soaps is perfect; hair, teeth, faces, clothing. Unreal.

We got out of MFR eventually, and landed in Portland, where we had a kind-of-long lay-over, which went fairly fast, as we ate lunch (34 bucks for me, Jan and granddaughter Kim) and meandered through a bunch of the shops. Got some discount-used paperbacks that way, which made me feel better about the price of lunch. Made our flight to Santa Ana, getting the last three seats, beating out seven other “stand-bys.” At John Wayne Airport got into our rented car (a stripped-down 2008 Dodge Caliber that served us well), and arrived at the new home of Vicki, Matt, Natalie and Ella shortly before midnight. We found our sleeping spots and hit the hay. I was going to sleep late (ha-ha), but awoke at 6:30 and began the day.

A departure here about a topic with which some disagree: the clothing people wear on flights. OK, I know that you can wear anything you want, but how about a little class, just a little. Showing my bias here, I will say that wearing a tank top (attire which no man should ever wear), baggy shorts and flip-flops just seems inappropriate. And women who look as though they just pulled their clothing from a rag bag need lessons too. My bias.

On the flight to SNA from PDX we were surrounded by a group of teen-agers. They were a bit noisy, but cute; and it was interesting that they could all speak simultaneously and still understand each other. Our captain told us we were at 39,000 feet (the only way to get high) and that we would arrive 15 minutes earlier than schedule. She was right too.

I was impressed with the huge area over which we flew that was covered with smoke. Those Northern California and high Southern Cal fires were blazing. I was seated next to a little girl, maybe 10 or 12. She was silent for most of the trip, but once we began talking, it was like opening a floodgate. Actually, she did nearly all the talking, nonstop, just like our flight. Jan says that kids can always tell a grandpa.

I can already see that I’m going to need another issue to talk about our Short Escape from Work. So let me just say that I was stunned and amazed at ordering ribs at a Black Angus Steakhouse in Carlsbad. I ordered barbecued beef ribs; I talked to the order-taker about beef ribs; I told her that I was going to be a hero when I got to the house because of finding beef ribs. When Jan opened the food container at Matt & Vicki’s, there they were: Pork ribs! I phoned the restaurant, and was told by the supervisor on duty that Black Angus doesn’t serve beef ribs, only pork. Now I’ve got a bone to pick with them.

Next week: The editor bowls a 112; Natalie gets $4.84 at a recycling center; and we view the Wall-E movie.