Big User Groaning to be an Investor
April 5: Wife, Carole, is flying to southern California today for eight days of much-needed and well-deserved fun and relaxation in the sun with her sister. I told her that I just could not tell her how happy I was for her. She said thank you. I asked her what for! I told her I needed her to stay home so that I could take care of her. She said she did not need a caretaker. I said I meant so that I could give her care. She said in that case, give her a hug, then go take care of myself.
April 6: Called Carole in California to be a hero last night to remind her that her cell phone will alarm three hours earlier in the middle of the night, also gave her the detailed 4-5 steps how she could change the settings, and reviewed them twice to be sure she got it. (She needs me in this way, you know!) Called this morning to ask if she worked it out with her phone. "Yeah, I did!" she said. "I turned it off."
April 7: Carole said people in California are beautiful. I asked if there were any people there who were unattractive. She said yes, the tourists.
April 8: Carole called to say she is impressed with upscale sourthern California's Huntington Beach, its sunny Mediterranean climate, quality of life and community services, and reputation as one of the cleanest and safest cities in America. (Residents, she says, don't walk their dogs on the beach; they ride them in a doggie stroller, sometimes even escort Fideau in a back pouch.)
Also, eight-mile scenic beachfront, ocean parks, riding stables, wildlife preserve, biking, jogging, and walking trails along the oceanpark, and one of the largest recreational piers in the world.
"And," she said, "the view driving the Pacific Coast Highway north between the ocean and the mountains is breath-taking."
Home alone, I asked her if it was as breath-taking as sitting in a San Antonio Burger King looking out a second floor window at the Alamo. She said it was at least, anyway.
April 9: Vacationing Carole calls the women in fashionable upscale southern California "chicks" and "chickies." She says "chicks" are the younger women and "chickies" are the older women who want to be "chicks." She's a hoot.
I asked her what her plans were for the day. She said she was going purse shopping to find her a "chickie bag."
April 10: Wife, California Carole, vacationing on the west coast with sister, Diva Dianne, calls every day on her morning 45-minute trail walk. She chirps, chatters, and laughs, most taken with the blue skies, clean white beaches, oceanpark trails, clear ocean water, warm temperatures, and low humidity, also tanned and toned senior citizens, smiling, relaxed, and friendly, and, of course, fine dining and cultural events.
"I could get use to this," she said.
"You really could stay longer, you know," I said.
"No, that's okay," she said. "I asked Sister if she would kiss my back so that I could go to sleep, but she said no."
April 11: Vacationing wife, Carole, was preparing last night to return home today. I asked her to tell the pilot that her husband said precious cargo was on board, to be careful, and that the wife he saved could be mine.
April 12: Wife, Carole, returned home from 8 days on the sunny west coast visiting with Sister. I met her at the airport, nearly missing her except for a chance glance at a strikingly beautiful woman who caught the corner of my eye. Tanned, toned, and chirpy, she seemed glad to be home. Although the past week seemed like forever to me, she said I had not changed a bit.
Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8D05-12