We Got To The Portland Airport Safely

After our flight from SLC, we found ourselves at the Portland airport for much longer than we had anticipated. We were surprised at how chilly it was as we patiently waited in the line for a taxi to our hotel. Now, remember we were already nearly 4 hours late getting to Portland because our flight had been delayed a number of times in SLC. We were only sixth in the taxi line, but almost forty-five windy, freezing minutes later, we were still still standing there and still sixth in the line. Where the bleep were the taxis? My butt was frozen and my dentures chattered. Eventually, we finally scored a taxi without pulling any dirty tricks. It was early evening and we simply wanted to get to our room and vegetate for a bit, then go out to eat.

What we did not know at that point is that the Portland area was experiencing an unusual snow and ice storm, especially for this time of year. Honestly, it didn’t seem nearly as gnarly as most of the freakish Utah storms I’ve driven in. But for Portland, this storm was a bigly deal. Once we were on the road to the city, it was a ride of inches. We were going nowhere slowly. On the bright side , we were warm. It took us probably an hour to drive maybe 2 miles. We were at a 4-way intersection at the foot of a hill and we were undeniably stuck. Cars were stuck all around us. Our taxi driver tried valiantly to dig us out of the predicament, but he was also part of the problem because he didn’t seem to know any of the tricks for getting unstuck in snow. He didn’t understand the art of rocking the car as you lightly give it gas. And, yup, he was a desperate pedal-to-the-metal wheel-spinner. The snow was flying high and wildly from our taxi tires. Because of insurance concerns, we couldn’t offer to try to drive us out of snow and ice. We waited. We didn’t move for at least another hour. You can see the taxi fare meter at $100.06 in one of these photos: we went nowhere, and the fare kept adding up. But we were warm. This is the place in the story where I must admit I had to strategically get the lower half of my body far enough out of the stuck taxi at one point to relieve myself in the darkness. Our driver had called his friend to bring another taxi with bulkier winter-driving muscles to come rescue Suzanne and me. We waited some more, and the second taxi dude eventually showed up—unstuck and warm—a ways down the block. (FYI When we switched into the second taxi, the first taxi driver said we owed him nothing. But he had worked so hard for so long to get us unstuck that we couldn’t not give him a robust tip.) We transferred ourselves and our bags to the heavy-duty taxi, hoping our hotel hadn’t given our room away already because we were long past our check-in time. Suzanne had called the hotel earlier to let them know we would be very late. Even so, messages don’t always get to the right people, so you don’t know for sure until you show up. The second taxi delivered us to our hotel safely and without problem. For exactly $100.

At the Hotel Lucia, our room was waiting for us exactly as reserved. We knew our hotel did not have its own restaurant, so as we checked in, we asked if any restaurants nearby were still open. We needed to grab some dinner. They were not. Everything had closed down earlier than usual because of the storm—in order for workers to get home before the weather situation got worse. Our hotel clerk told us the Hotel Lucia had agreed to give rooms for the night to some restaurant workers who couldn’t get home in the storm. In return, the restaurant manager sent trays of the day’s leftovers to the Hotel Lucia. Our hotel clerk told us we were welcome to some of the gourmet food the hotel had been given. We jumped at the generosity, and a clerk brought up two overflowing trays of a variety of yummy foods right to our room. Everything was lukewarm, but we did not complain. In fact, I ate at least four slices of some of the best prime rib I have ever tasted. All in all, we had a rather bumpy day getting from SLC to our destination, but it ended with a prime rib cherry of generosity on top.🍒

Leaving for Portland

We hadn’t flown anywhere for three years, and then I had the brilliant idea to buy Bruce Springsteen tickets for his concert in Portland, OR, which was scheduled for February 25th. Since Bruce wasn’t coming to SLC, the closest places we could catch him were Denver or Portland. We talked about it and realized the safer “weather” choice for flying in late February was Portland. Statistically, that’s true. Unfortunately for us, we were flying in a plane, and not in a statistic. To be fair, during the week of our flight, it wouldn’t have mattered what city we had chosen for our destination: most of the country was pelted with freakish snowy weather. When I woke up on the day we were scheduled to fly and checked the status of the flight we would be taking later that morning, I saw we had a slight delay of thirty minutes. So far, so good. Bow Tie o’ the Day was ready to go.

At the SLC airport, we sat down in the boarding area at our gate with plenty of time to spare, and then we began our normal airport routine. We people-watch, which is the best free entertainment there is, because people are, well, so peopley. Then we take turns wandering through the airport shops while one of us stays planted with our bags at our seats. I buy us a bunch of airport-priced Diet Cokes and snacks to see us through our waiting and our flight. To be completely honest, I bought a couple of “just in case” of books, which is also a traditional part of our waiting-in-an-airport routine. And finally, we take turns making one last pit stop in the ladies room before boarding. We were ready to board the plane when we we were hit with another flight delay, and another, and another. That’s right: 4 delays. It was a long day in the belly of SLC International Airport. I must admit there was music to entertain us—since we were sitting close to a newly minted sister missionary who just happened to be nervously humming LDS hymns for hours on end. Bless her little heart. Yay for her. Hours later, as we at finally boarded the plane for our journey, I kept my eye out for the humming young missionary—saying my own little prayer that our seats were nowhere within earshot of her anxious humming. We lucked out on that wish. The flight to Portland—to see Bruce—was on.

A Visit With Mom, During Bruce Week: Part Two

Whenever we get inside the front doors of Millard Care and Rehab, Skitter prances her way to Mom’s room. She doesn’t dilly-dally. She makes a beeline for Mom. When Mom notices us at her door, she is quick to say, “Hi, Skitter! What are you doing here?” (To heck with me or Suzanne. Skitter is Mom’s favorite by a mile. I don’t blame her.) Skitter then leaps up on Mom’s bed, and snuggles as close to Mom as she can get—where she remains for the duration of our visits. During our last couple of visits, Mom has sort of forgotten Skitter was by her side. In fact, she almost ignored Skitter once Skitter got up on her bed—to the point that Suzanne and I have been extra worried about Mom’s state of mind. But when we visited Mom a few days ago, Mom was back to her old Skitter-petting self. They were inseparable. Whew! When it was time for us to leave, Skitter would not get off the bed, even when Mom did. Suzanne had to physically remove The Skit from Mom’s space.

Suzanne’s leg is a focal point of one of these photos for a real reason. I thought I should document Suzanne elevating her leg on Mom’s bed because her foot was swollen. She and Mom had a dandy time commiserating about the woes of their swollen feet. What a couple of exciting broads I was hanging out with! For the record, my feet don’t swell. Except for that time when I was 16 and discovered I was suddenly allergic to bee stings—and at the old Delta hospital, the nurses had to cut my new Nikes off my feet because all my appendages were swollen up like I was auditioning to be the Hulk in a movie. Or Popeye with his spinach-ed arms.

During our visit with Mom, we laughed so much that I can’t remember what silly thing Mom was laughing about so hard she covered her mouth as if pretending she didn’t say something irreverent. But isn’t that a great picture of Mom looking like the mischievous dame she is? She can say anything she wants, and she gets away with everything she says because she’s so Old Gangsta Old Lady about it. And also because what she says is usually both funny and dead-on about the topic being discussed. BTW Check out how Mom is not wearing her purple housecoat for the first time in a long while. And note her bigly flower ring and brooch. She was stylin.’ She says she couldn’t get her earrings on that day.

For my part, I wore my pig earrings for the visit because Mom likes to see them so much. I wore my bee socks for her, too. She mentioned many times how much she liked my brand spankin’ new bejeweled Bow Tie o’ the Day. Mom does love to see the bling! We took her some shrimp and some sugary treats, too. It was all for Mom. It always is.

FYI The weather is not looking good for our scheduled flight from SLC to Portland in the morning. To that news, I say, ” &*+($^#@!*^~#^@$#^^&!!!” That mess o’ symbols was my silent swearing. Rest assured, those words are not silent in my head! 😡

A Visit With Mom, During Bruce Week: Part One

I wanted to spend a few hours with Mom before we left on our quick trip to Portland this week, so we jumped in Abra the Maverick over the weekend and drove to my beloved Deltabama. (To be honest, I think I love my hometown more than it loves me.) Mom is not just a cool person—she is a wonders-of-the-world vacation destination. Spending even a tiny amount of time with her is a rejuvenating experience, even though her mind is not as steady or accurate as it once was. She has one of those rare spirits that remains optimistic at all times. Her compassion and fun spills over onto those around her. It doesn’t matter who you are—Mom loves the real you. Mom has always been a come-as-you-are kind of woman. Oh, don’t be fooled: she sees your mistakes and imperfections. But she sees that you are so much more than your worst qualities. She loves you even when you struggle to be better. She loves you because you try to do better. I’ll write more about our visit in this afternoon’s post.

I’m busy getting ready for our Portland trip to see Bruce Springsteen in concert on Saturday. We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow, but SLC is about to be hit by a major snowstorm later today and tomorrow, and I’m betting our morning flight is going to be delayed or canceled. I’ll keep you updated. Must. Not. Miss. Bruce!

Finally Gonna See The Boss

This photo of me and Rowan was taken when we were still living in Ogden, about 15 years ago. We were both growing out our hair, which we eventually chopped off and donated to Locks of Love—to be made into wigs for kids with cancer who’ve lost their hair because of chemo treatments. I re-post the pictures because I have always referred to them as “my Bruce pics with Rowan” since they’re vaguely reminiscent of the cover of Bruce Springsteen’s album, BORN IN THE USA.In less than a week, Suzanne and I will be belted in our seats on a plane headed to Portland, OR. We are going there so I can finally see my longtime songwriter-throb, Bruce Springsteen, in concert. His band, The E Street Band, will be backing him, too, minus The Big Man, the late Clarence Clemons—whose masterfully played saxophone made the 14-year-old me hold my breath more than once when I first listened to the BORN TO RUN cassette tape I found abandoned in the kitchen junk drawer of my kidhood. As far as concerts go, I have seen them all. At least, all the bands I’ve wanted to see—except Bruce. When we are in Portland, that will finally change. In terms of music, my unofficial Concert Bucket List will be completed. Oh, I certainly won’t be done attending concerts. There just won’t be any more music artists I’ve gotta see in concert so I can die in peace—with my life’s spectacular soundtrack stuck in my head.💿

Breakfast O’ Champions?

Tie o’ the Day joined me for breakfast this morning. Eggs didn’t sound good. Even bacon didn’t get my vote. Nope, I started off my day by eating some “spotted dick”—which is apparently a bready pudding, dotted with raisins. I am here to tell you this: trying something once is more than sufficient for some things. The spotted dick wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t really my cup of tea. It did taste much better after I spooned a bigly dollop of vanilla ice cream on top.🍽🤡

Out On The Town For Valentine’s Day

I found the perfect Valentine’s Day Tie o’ the Day for me: a Nicole Miller necktie full of paisley hearts. We left Skitter home while we went to dinner last night. The poor thing sat around the house all by herself, wearing her very own lipstick-and-lips Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. Meanwhile, Suzanne and I went to dinner at the Oasis Cafe in downtown SLC. We had a groove-tastic conversation—as we always do. (The food rated only a “meh” review from me, so I doubt we’ll revisit the place.) I, of course, wore my heart-covered, Suzanne-made cape on our evening outing. I did manage to see someone else sporting a different type of eye-catching cape at the restaurant, as well. I had to be low-key to take this photo of the other cape, and I apologize for not being able to get close enough to it to find out what it was made of. But believe me, its feather-like, petal-like look was stunning. However, I still prefer my own cape, to be sure. It flies me around the sky oh-so very well.

Because Mom

I sat down this morning to write a TIE O’ THE DAY post about our evening out for Valentine’s Day, when this photo from 10 years ago popped up in my Facebook Memories. Because it stars the fabulous and fashionable cola-drinking dame otherwise known as my mother, there is no way in heck I’m not re-posting it here for her fans to see. In these incomprehensible times of division and daily lunatic conspiracy theories, I think we could all benefit from a Big Helen ambiance whenever we can get it. She’s just so darn content with who she is. Chill out like Mom, folks. 🥤🍪🌻👑😎

FYI That’s the late Araby, the dog of my life, swooning at Mom’s feet. Even dogs worship Mom.

A ValenTIE, A Poem

Heart-breaker Tie o’ the Day is a reminder that love has its pains. This poem, written by the American poet, Jane Kenyon, is a love poem about an ordinary day filled with ordinary events—and how these simple things become extraordinary when spent in the company of one’s beloved, especially when time is running out. Kenyon wrote the poem while she was fighting a losing battle with cancer almost thirty years ago. The poem speaks to me. I hope it speaks to you. Love on, my friends.💝💝💘