The Tree Frog mating saga continues!…An unbelievable sighting…Videos…Photos…Please scroll to the end…

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Yesterday morning, after getting comfortably situated on the veranda, coffee in hand, we were stunned as we noticed a new white foam ball on the tree above the pool, a few limbs from the now dissipating former white foam ball, that apparently failed to produce live offspring, much to our disappointment.

The following photos are shown in progression as they occurred beginning at 7:58 am, Saturday morning.

Look carefully to see the first foam nest on the left, and the new foam nest on the right.

Excited to see this again, (click here to see our prior post on December 20th when we discovered the first white foam ball) I grabbed the camera trying to get as close as possible as we positioned ourselves on the edges of the pool. Before our eyes, the foam nest was being made as we watched it grow, totally in awe of this miracle of life. 

This must have been one of the Tree Frogs that fell off of the small branch supporting the white foam nest into the pool, quickly working his way up the pool and then the tree, seemingly in a hurry to join in on the mating activities.


“Give me a minute to catch my breath!  I’m on my way!”


“Almost there!”

At the same time, we’d noticed a frog on the edge of the pool, making its way up out of the water, jumping in the tree, and quickly climbing to the nest. Within a matter of a few minutes, the nest was covered with Tree Frogs, no less than five males participating! It could have been more than the five, but their camouflage like appearance makes it difficult to see.

“Hey, you guys, let me get my spot!”
 
“Now we’re talking! Foam me up, Scotty!”
From what we’ve read, multiple males participate in the fertilization of the one female after she “manufactures” the white foam nest. The female lays the eggs inside the nest to protect them. At that point, the males climb on and the mating began, during which time we made these videos as we’ve shown here today.
An hour later, they started climbing off the foam nest, which appeared to have been well fertilized!

With the mating process of the African Tree Frog lasting only a matter of minutes, it is indeed miraculous that we happened to be outside at precisely the correct time to witness the entire event from the veranda.  

Another amazing video of the tree frogs fertilizing the foam nest.


Good grief.  May I say this yet another time?  “Safari luck” once again kicked in. Will this batch of tadpoles survive? We don’t know. Most likely they won’t, with the chlorine in the pool plus the use of the pool filter, which we can’t turn off for the week it will take for them to mature. The pool could turn to green slime in a week’s time. After all, this isn’t “our” house.

So, we’ll wait and see what transpires once again and of course, report any results here. And, if we get lucky and mama tree frog gets lucky, her babies will survive, and her two attempts will not have been in vain.

Ah, nature, what a treasure! Keep it comin‘!

Sights and sounds of our neighborhood…Photos…

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The Indian Ocean from the rooftop of Hans’ house next door.  Soon we’ll make the walk to the beach, further than we’d originally anticipated.
Mornings are noisy. The melodic sounds of birds chirping in unison as the sun rises, the goats in the walled area in the rear yard of this two home property, bantering amongst one another with their sheep-like “baaaa,” the roosters in the neighborhood welcoming the day with their familiar “cock-a-doodle-do” are all music to our ears.
The goats in the rear yard of this property posed for us when Hans‘ two small dogs, Gucci and Jessie, chased them into their goat house.

The muffler challenged rickety trucks roaring along the nearby two lane road as local workers begin the rush to work at 6:00 am, the voices of security staff winding down from the night watch, the wind wafting through the palms and massive fronds of the tropical trees and bushes, only add to the magic of a Kenya morning.

The kingpin goat nuzzled up to Hans when we entered the gate remembering his early days when Hans fed him with a baby bottle.

By 5:55 this morning, after a totally undisturbed night of sleep, I awoke ready to tackle the day.  Not wanting to disturb Tom, I pulled my phone from under my pillow to read a few more chapters of my book. I knew I could lay quietly for an hour but no more.

To entertain us, two of the goats jumped up on the stone wall.

At 7:00 am, I pulled aside the thick mosquito netting, gingerly stepping into my awaiting shoes to quickly pad to the entryway to flick on the switch for the hot water. In 15 minutes, the water would be hot for my shower as I was anxious to wash off the sand, the soot and the repellent from another day and night in Africa.

The colors are so pleasing to the senses.

No sooner than I’d dried off and dressed, I lathered on another layer of the repellent, in the hopes that I’d have another mosquito bite free day. Other than a few nips at my ankles, I’ve skated free so far.

As we lounged in the thick cushioned chaises yesterday for a scorching 45 minutes, we positioned our Africa BugsAway pants under our towels. The Permethrin embedded into the fabric deterring any flying (or walking) insects from bothering us. 

In 2009 a fire destroyed 18 homes in this neighborhood, this property next door, yet to be renovated after a new owner took over a few years ago. Hans, a builder, wasted no time in rebuilding these two houses.

It was the heat that drew us back to our outdoor living room that without screens welcomes birds and bugs inside. Although we’re getting used to living outdoors, Tom was startled yesterday when a large bird swooped his head while sitting on the sofa. 

Yesterday, I reminded Tom, that every time we put a foot into a shoe that we must flip it upside down, bang it fiercely several times on the stone floor, looking inside to ensure that no creature is living therein. “Good point,” Tom muttered as he vigorously shook his head in agreement.

Overlooking the stone wall from the goat’s yard.  To avoid cutting grass, Hans preferred to go the natural way…having goats eat the grass.  Much to our delight, he doesn’t slaughter the goats, as is the practice of many local residents.

Yesterday, we received an email from XCOM Global that our data usage had exceeded the “fair use policy” to which they must strictly adhere  If we exceed the allowable amount of 150 mg per day, their providers could possible cut us off entirely. No fault of theirs. Scary for us. 

A private water tower for the house next door.  Water is at a premium in this part of the world.  We take special care with our usage.

This morning, I downloaded an app (more data used to download it) that provides an ongoing data counter, visible throughout the day. No more videos to watch on Facebook or email. No more YouTube. No more Skype video calls although voice only is fine. No more downloading TV shows and movies on Graboid. No TV at our house in Kenya. Oh.

No more madly researching the web reviewing hundreds of possible safaris, comparing prices, freely checking reviews, airfares, browsing photos and more. Tom will no longer be able to watch the Vikings Games using the MiFi. We’re looking into additional options which we’ll report on as we learn. 

Our house from Hans’ rooftop.

Kenya doesn’t have basic broadband service to residences or we’d gladly purchase it for our 3 months period. When booking this house, we’d thought when Internet service was provided, it would be the same type of broadband service we’d used in all the other countries we’ve lived in thus far. Nope. Not here.  As I said, we’ll let you know tomorrow as we madly search for a solution.

Fortunately, this doesn’t effect our ability to post the blog and photos which actually won’t use more than 25% of our daily allotment. For now, we’ll manage until we find a solution. Hans, the helpful owner of the house, will assist us later today.

View of our house as we basked in the chaise lounges in the hot sun, lasting only 45 minutes due to the close proximity to the equator.

Next time we grocery shop, most likely on Monday, not Tuesday since we’re running out of bottled water, we’ll visit the safari booking agency Hans recommended down the road from the grocery store. It will most likely save us considerable data usage, giving us an opportunity to talk to a knowledgeable live person, at this point a inviting concept. 

So far, we’ve discovered that the airfare alone to go to the Massai Mara is over $1000 for the two of us with the more deluxe safaris running from US $400 to US $600 per person per day. Ouch. Most likely, we won’t stay for more than three or four days. 

The blending of colors in the yard creates an enticing backdrop.

Yes, there are budget safaris, sleeping in rough tents on the plains. That’s not us. The food alone would be a problem for me and let’s face it, we never claimed to be “backpacking,” “living in hostels,” or “roughing it” travelers. 

The more deluxe safaris are able to accommodate my diet, have comfortable tents with regular beds, private baths, and overall more conveniences.  We’ll gladly pay for those luxuries. 

Spending most of our data yesterday researching many possible scenarios allowed us to discover the differences between “budget” and “deluxe,” easily making up our minds.

Each time we move to a new location, we experience a period of adapting and learning as we strive to settle into a comfortable and familiar pattern.  ts no different now as we find “workarounds” for any challenges we stumble upon in the process.

This, my friends, is all a part of the decision, none of which we regret for a moment, that we made over 18 months ago to leave everyone we love, everything we owned and our familiar surroundings in order to stretch ourselves to the limit while exploring the world when we can, before old age creeps around the edges, anymore than it already has.

Spring is in the air, here in Kenya, seasons being opposite from the US and Europe.  With the close proximity to the equator, the weather is tropical year round.

Dreams of Africa…Now a reality…22 hours later…

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This is the view I’m facing as I’m sitting on the veranda writing now.  More house  photos will follow tomorrow after we get all of our un packing done and out of the way.
 It’s hard for us to believe we’re finally in Diani Beach, Kenya for the next three months, the longest of any of our stays thus far in our worldwide travels. Planning this leg of our journey over 18 months ago, it’s surprising we’re finally here.
Sorry this is blurry but there was a sign posted saying “no photos from the ramp” of the ferry boat necessary to get from Mombasa to Diana Beach.  The number of people on this ferry was astounding. Quickly, I took a shot with no time to focus. The government doesn’t charge people for using the ferry boats, only for cars.

After only a few hours of uncomfortable sleep on the plane, I should be napping with Tom right now, who never dozed off once during the many hours in the air. Soon, I’ll awaken him to take his shower so we can go grocery shopping in our new village.  Hans, the next door neighbor and owner of our house, kindly offered to take us grocery shopping in a few hours. 

With no decent food (or within my guidelines) during our 3 flights, we’re looking forward to a homemade dinner tonight. Turkish Air, although a very safe feeling airline with newer aircraft, free food and drinks with exemplary customer service was lacking in the food department.  I’d carefully requested my special meals only the have them bring me all the wrong items.  Hopefully tonight, I can drag myself into the small galley kitchen to tackle some chopping and dicing.

Animals are seen walking along the busy roads, much to our delight. Taking photos while moving fast through crazy traffic this morning, made photo taking a challenge.  I did the best I could as our shuttle driver, Peter, who’d waited for us at the airport for almost 3 hours in the middle of the night, made his way through morning rush hour traffic.

Although from Germany, Hans speaks fluent English. How odd that we can finally speak to someone other than each other who knows what we’re saying!

Tomorrow, I’ll write more about the house itself and our immediate surroundings adding a number of photos. For now, all I will say is that I’ve never heard so many sounds of different varieties of birds singing at once. Will that be a treat to wake up to tomorrow morning after a good night’s sleep! 

Locals walking along the unpaved roads to get to work.  This photo was between 6:00 and 7:00 am this morning, as were the other street photos.

Flying long distances simply isn’t fun, although we tried to make it fun. With a four hour layover in the packed Istanbul airport that eventually turned into seven hours with delays occurring on the upcoming 6 1/2 hour flight, our 3:15 am arrival, turned into 6:00 am. I must say, we never were grumpy and we never complained. That, in itself makes the experience tolerable.

Many locals rode motorcycles and bike, weaving between the fast moving cars and trucks on the two lane narrow road.  Animals are everywhere.

Going through security three times was seamless this time around. A security officer in Istanbul questioned my carry on bag of our one year of prescriptions but let us go through when I pulled out the prescriptions. She never looked further into the bag. 

This type of little shacks, some homes, some shops, lined the highway before we reached the Diani Beach area where suddenly the landscaped changed into row after row of oceanfront resorts, high end homes and condos.

Not surprisingly, even after all we gave away, one again we had to pay a hefty sum for our overweight luggage, not a result of too many bags but due to the weight of the bags. 

Goats, a common source of food among the locals, littered the highway as we zoomed by.

In Venice, before boarding the plane, Istanbul Airlines charged us Euros $1000, US $1324 (after negotiating) after they required that I dump 3 kg (over 6 pounds) of stuff from my bag. I had packed all of those vitamin bottles we’d hauled in a separate duffel bag many months ago into my solitary clothing bag. Of course, I’d be overweight.  We’re contemplating a future course of action, which will be easier to think about after we’re rested.

Hesborn, our delightful houseman, has been running around the house, ensuring everything is in order to our liking. Each day, he’ll go back and forth between ours and the owner’s house tending to all household tasks. He’ll do all of our laundry, make the bed and do all the housecleaning.  Wow! That sure will spoil me!

So, folks, off we go to buy groceries and to create a semblance of order in our new home. Its a totally different life from that which we’ve known so far in our travels and we look forward to embracing it’s differences, its culture and it people.

Back tomorrow with more photos.

Part 2…A day to remember…Petra…Aqaba Jordan…photos, photos and more photos…Plus pirate drill!

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Part 2.  Our experiences in Petra, the lost city.  Part 1 was posted yesterday on May 15, 2013.
For the detailed history of Petra, please click here.

Yesterday morning, after posting our Part 1 of our expedition to Petra, everyone aboard ship was to participate in a mandatory drill in preparation for our upcoming passage into the Gulf of Aden.

All passengers in the inside cabins would be required to stay in their cabins in the event pirates boarded the ship. Passengers in balcony cabin (us) and suites were to move to the hallways after locking their cabin doors staying in place until directed otherwise. 

The drill lasted 30 minutes as security maintained their stations to ensure all complied. The quiet was unsettling. 

As described to us, most often, pirates attack larger ships during the night. Thus, we’ve been instructed that tonight and over the next three nights, beginning at sunset and ending at sunrise, to keep our curtains closed and all outdoor lights off.  Also, all outdoor nighttime activities will be suspended during this four day period.  Walking along the decks at night will also be prohibited.

After speaking with a ship’s officer a short time ago, he explained upon my polite pressing, that an escort convoy of naval ship from multiple countries will be accompanying us over the next four days as we navigate toward and through the Gulf of Aden.

Are we frightened?  Not at all. The likelihood of pirates boarding a cruise ship at full speed with naval escorts is slim to none.  Although, we must admit that the excitement of it all adds to our varied experiences as we travel the world.

Who we are as individuals is comprised of all of our life experiences, good and bad.  Every step of our journey, now almost seven months since leaving Minnesota, has changed us in subtle ways, has changed our view of the world and, our view of our world.  These discoveries continue each and every day as new opportunities and challenges are presented to us, such as the visit to Petra.

__________________________________

Now, back to where we left off yesterday in Part 1 ending with this photo as we inched closer and closer to the Treasury at the lost city of Petra, Jordan:

This was the photo we posted at the end of yesterday’s Part 1 of our trip to Petra.
This was the next scene as we entered “the city” to see the world renowned “Treasury.”
We couldn’t stop shooting.  It was breathtaking!
In Jordan, the camel owners proudly let us take photos.  In Egypt at the Great Pyramids, either they’d grab your camera and smash it or demand $50 to get it back.
More of the Treasury, illustrating the rose hue to the daunting structure.
Actually, Tom was much happier than he looks in this photo!
Imagine, they said tourism is down.  What would it have been like if that wasn’t the case!
Check out the intrigue detail of Treasury performed by craftsmen over 2000 years ago. The twelve pillars represent the twelve months of the year.
The seven cups along the border illustrate the seven days of the week
After the long walk, sitting down for this not so smiley photo was a huge relief. The grates behind me at the front of the Treasury are protecting more intricate design.
Much to our surprise, vendors were set up by the Treasury but in Jordan, they weren’t “pushy” as they were in Egypt at the Pyramids.
We continued on past the Treasury to yet another area full of wonders.
This camel posing for us preferred his side view!
Visitors aren’t allowed to enter the various tombs and chamber.

The ride back was nerve racking, the bus bobbing along on the rough roads. Luckily, the day was cool which made a huge difference in our three hour walk. But when we got onto the bus, the driver put the heat on full blast. It was so hot, it felt as if it was burning our feet as it blasted out down below. No one on the bus said a word.

This donkey, high above us was standing on the rocks, waiting to be beckoned for his next passenger.
Tom, sitting on the aisle jumped up and approached the driver, kindly asking that he turn off the heat and put on the AC.  He agreed and the people on the bus cheered as the cool air came on.
Our tour guide positioned himself in an advantageous spot in order to take photos of passengers in our group using each of our own cameras.  He took the photo of us at the top of this page.

The ride continued on until about five miles from our ship.  Suddenly, a warning sound on the bus blared, startling all of us.  The driver stopped the bus, turning off all of the lights, as he pulled toward the curb.  Moaning ensued by the passengers. 

Wouldn’t it be interesting to crawl into these openings?

We heard one person say, “Oh, I knew this day was too good to be true.”

The open area by the Treasury make me wonder what it would have been like 2000 years ago filled with townspeople, animals and vendors, typical of the era.

My mind was spinning. It was already 7:30 pm. We could be stuck on this road for hours waiting for another bus, a hazard on the road with no taillights turned on.  Both the driver and the tour guide were speaking in Arabic on their cell phones trying to figure out what to do. Fifteen minutes passed.

More interesting formations.

Tom looked angry. I was worried. Soon, they both got back on the bus and the driver started it up. It sounded alright. We could see our ship at the far distance, its lights twinkling in the dark. Much to our delight, we were on our way once again, the driver mumbling something about a “bad sensor.”

More interesting entrances.

We didn’t get back to the ship until 8:00 pm. We were hungry, exhausted and anxious to move about. Rather than spend time showering and dressing for dinner, knowing the main dining room closed at 9:30, we dropped off our heavy bag, changed into clean clothes and headed to dinner.

Imagine the hard labor for the artists who crafted these stones.
Falling into bed by 10:30, we had smiles on our faces over an overall enriching day that neither of us will ever forget.
A doorway to…
Thank you, Jordan, a peaceful country rich in history and treasures they have gifted to the world to see.  We’re grateful, once again.

Twenty one days…

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“They” say it may take 21 days to break a habit.   Yesterday, armed with this assumption, I began the process of changing the familiar routines that so shaped my days over the past two years of my own retirement, over the past 26 years of life here on the peninsula.  

Awakening at 4 am with a rare and unexpected head cold, I rationalized my stuffy nose and sore throat as the Universe’s way of reminding me to slow down, to breathe more deeply, to choke my organized and purposeful actions into a much gentler pace.  

In 21 days these daily habits, entrenched in our lives all these years, will be reshaped into new and unfamiliar patterns; brewing my usual morning tea in a strange teapot, pouring it into a different cup while tasting a slight variance from using bottled water. 

As always, the first sip will be accompanied by my gaze out the window in the near future at the vast expanse of the sea, mysterious and foreboding, as opposed to the cozy comfort of gazing at the lake for all these years, a shoreline in the not too distant horizon, predictable even on the windiest of days.  Not so the sea.

Stuffy head, I welcomed the cold, crisp air on the early morning walk, especially chilly at 32 degrees, fingers numb and tightly tucked into my pockets, having failed to wear gloves.  

Wiggling my toes in my tennis shoes hoping to ward off the cold, I picked up the pace walking almost an hour, stopping periodically to look up at a noisy flock of geese honking their way south or to blow my nose into the soft paper towels I had stuffed into my jacket before walking out the door.

When will I be so cold again?  In Belize, at the little oceanfront house, when the average daily temperature is 83 degrees in the winter months?  In Tuscany, next summer?  Doubtful. In Africa next fall, again a house on the sea, in a time in which it will actually be their spring? Unlikely. Or, in the prime season in Kauai in 2015, the ocean at our doorstep, the warm breezes in our faces? No, it won’t be cold.

The colorful leaves, crispy under my feet, a part of my expectations in any fall season yet to come, will forever be embedded into my memories of seasons so clearly defined.  We’ve enthusiastically welcomed and sadly bid adieu to the seasons, ready to move on to the next, often too cold with record breaking temperatures and snowfalls or, too hot with record breaking heat.

Twenty one days to break the habit of that which we have known and loved, at times bemoaned and begrudged, to begin anew in a strange land, finding our way with a touch of trepidation, with an abundance of wonder and with a never-ending desire to become familiar once again. 

X-Ray views of our travel jackets…

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It would be no exaggeration to say that I have spent no less than 20 hours searching online for travel jackets for both Tom and me.  Our goals were simple: functional, all weather, comfortable, affordable and attractive. 

After the first 10 hours, I threw “affordable” and possibly “attractive” out the window.  When buying coats and jackets for us over the years, I’ve always relished in the search for the $500 jacket on sale for $195, throwing a 20% coupon in the mix for a great jacket purchased for a grand total of $156. 
With no sales tax on clothing in Minnesota, we’d be thrilled with the total acquisition cost, wearing the jacket over several years.  As a good “laundress” I’d be able to wash and dry them each year in order for them to look like new for the following year.  

Tiring of our jacket years later, long before they’d wear out, we’d donate them pleased to know that the recipient could enjoy many more years of wear. On occasion, a treasured well-fitting, good looking jacket would remain in the closet for years to come. We struggled to let it go. Would we ever wear it again? Probably not. But the attachment remained.

In frigid Minnesota, one becomes particularly attracted to warm, comfortable, functional jackets that when donned, provide us with a feeling of who we really are, or in some cases, who we’d really like to be.  Funny how an article of clothing, an inanimate object, can do that.
When the search for jackets began months ago, I took it quite seriously.  Tom poo pooed jacket after jacket that I had sent to his inbox.  At night after work, as he’d peruse upwards of 100 email jokes that had filtered in throughout the day, he’d see a subject line from me, reading, “Honey, I found your jacket! Look at this one!”

My heart sank each time he shook his head saying, “Naw, not this one.”  After awhile, I gave up asking why he didn’t like my most recent find. His answer never brought me one step closer to finding what he would like.  

I suppose it’s not unlike falling in love we just do. It’s the way that wispy chunk of silky hair falls over their right eye, the flash of white teeth in a winsome smile, or the laugh, so frequent, so sincere, that makes us fall in love. Over time, the wisp of hair becomes dull and gray, the teeth yellowed but that laugh endures, and we stay in love. I speak from experience.

Finding him a jacket he’d love “matters” to me, as he “matters” to me. Patiently the search continued.  Somehow I felt that once I found a jacket for Tom, one for me would naturally follow.   
Early on in the search, I discovered Scottevest, a travel wear company dedicated to quality and function, offering jackets with “zillions” of hidden pockets.  This concept appealed to both of us, especially during the times we have no alternative but to fly. 

With multiple pockets suited to technological gear, there are hidden plackets for headsets, chargers and devices. Very interesting!
Tom didn’t like the “look” of the available lightweight options for him, although I was drawn to The Molly in black. From time to time I’d send him information about the Standard Jacket to no response. 

Signing up at the Scottevest website to receive daily email on discounted items, last month he reluctantly agreed to the Windbreaker. I purchased a size large for him in olive along with a size small for me in blue.  With the then 20% off discount, these unisex 17 pocket jackets would serve us well most of the time, at only $60 each.  

Folding inside themselves for easy packing was an appealing feature that unfortunately requires an engineering degree. At this point we haven’t taken the time to figure this out.  Other fish to fry.  
Thus remained the task of finding a slightly heavier jacket for those cool days at sea and chilly mornings in Africa on safari.

As the search continued off and on, often days in between, an email popped into my inbox last week, offering a number of jackets at 40% off. (If interested in this sale click this link which was extended until midnight tonight but doesn’t allow for returns. BTW, we have nothing to do with the promotion or marketing of this company or their products).

And wouldn’t you know, The Molly and the Standard Jacket were both included in the sale. At last, Tom relented, finally realizing that the look may not be perfect, but the function of this 20 pocket jacket would serve him well in many ways. I ordered black for both of us in each of our chosen styles.  

Fearful they wouldn’t fit, resulting in having to resell them on eBay, I anxiously awaited their arrival.  Two days later, the package arrived.  Tom, exhausted from work and distracted, didn’t try his on until Friday night when I did the same. His recent weight loss made the size consideration tricky as this was a more fitted jacket than the Windbreaker that we had previously purchased.

Alas!  We were both thrilled with the perfect fit in each of our jackets and at last, Tom seemed content with this decision, partially due to price, partly due to practicality, partly due to the 20 pockets and perhaps, a tiny piece, to end my relentless search freeing me to attend to other tasks, only one month and six days from departure.

In anticipation of goodbye…

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Tom and I have four adult children between us; his son is 37 and his daughter turns 42 tomorrow (Happy birthday, darling!).  I have two sons, one turning 43 today (Happy Birthday, honey!) and the eldest 45, living in Henderson, Nevada for the past 25 years. We will surely miss them.

Three of our four kids live here in Minnesota and between them, we have been gifted with six grandchildren, the eldest and the youngest sharing the same birthdays on September 21st, ages ranging from three to twelve.  We will surely miss them.

With their significant others, we’ll be leaving behind here in Minnesota 12 immediate family members as we venture out into the world for the next 5-10 years, moving from country to country, for as little as one month to as long as five. 
Tom has lived in Minnesota all of his life, leaving behind his family of four generations totaling well over 100 unique individuals.  Inviting his family for dinner is comparable to planning a major event!  We will surely miss them.

Living in Minnesota for the past 42 years and coming from a small family, I also leave behind my younger sister, a TV producer in Los Angeles, an older sister living in Boulder City, Nevada, two nieces and their families and a dear cousin from Boston along with her two adult daughters. We will surely miss them.

And the friends that visit more frequently now than ever with offers of help, some confused by our decision to leave, others to travel along with us in spirit, following our every destination.  Some promise to visit us along the way.  We will surely miss them.

And the neighbors… so close for the often daily interactions, the lazy walks in the neighborhood, the hilarious happy hours, the happy hour boat rides, the outdoor parties on the lawn, the helping one another when snowed in during the long winters, the playful little dogs, (many now passed on) and the recent loss of one we loved so much, as written in my post of June 1.  

As they plan a neighborhood party for us for October 13th we are reminded of the 26 years together and how hard it will be to drive away 18 days later on Halloween.  We will surely miss them, too.
No, its not all joyful anticipation of one long “vacation,” kicking back, relaxing in a hammock overlooking the sea or trekking through the plains in search of the “Big 5” while on safari in Africa.  

Its “life” with noisy disorganized airports, congestion at the buffet line on the cruises, lost luggage, bug bites, uncomfortable lumpy mattresses, bad Internet connections, no TV, no food processor, customs curious as to why we have so many bottles of vitamins, no air conditioning, bad weather with no escape to a basement, stomach distress, a burned out hair dryer, running out of contact lens solution and on and on. 

Why?  Why put ourselves through this?  Why not settle down into a “senior living” condo in a warm, humid-less climate, coming back to Minnesota twice a year to visit those we love, freely traveling by car to visit the others?  Why?

As we said before, because we can, because we want to. Because, we both feel we have one last hurrah deep within us.  Did we hunger for this adventure all of our lives? No. I’ve always dreamed of going to Africa, but the world? Not so much. As written in our prior posts, we only gave birth to this idea early in 2012.  

The timing is right. The downturn in the economy has affected the availability and phenomenal pricing of the homes we’ll be renting around the world; Tom’s pension after 42 years; the timing of the sale and ultimate unloading of our house (a painful loss); our improved health due to our diet change a year ago. The stars were aligned. 

As we travel from location to location, ensuring that Skype will work, we’ll make the online call, see their smiling faces, hear their sweet voices, jittery from afar. We’ll revel in the connection, grateful for technology all the while talking, laughing and sharing, no doubt with tears in our eyes. Yes, we will surely miss them.

Jewelry sale day results…strange visitor

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This worm or caterpillar was atop Tom’s blue Croc as the last shopper as the jewelry sale walked out the door and screamed.

We live on a peninsula, a narrow “road to nowhere.” We are the second house from the end. With water on both sides of us, there is no sidewalk, no curb, no gutter and little parking room. We’ve always considered this a small price to pay to be surrounded by water.

As a result of this parking dilemma, in 26 years in this house, we’ve never had a garage sale.  The idea of strangers coming to our home, parking on the lawn when the few space run out, made us cringe.

Alas, our estate sale guy Jim Anderson suggested I sell my costume jewelry rather than leave it for the estate sale where it becomes difficult to control with many shoppers hovering about.  

As I wrote in last week’s post, I sold my loose gold and silver while awaiting an offer on my wedding ring, hopefully to hear soon.  A sale at our home was the most practical solution, albeit our concerns about the parking.

My dear friend and next door neighbor offered to be “the guard,” helping me put up the signs and keeping me company, making the event less dreadful.  

I hoped for rain so I could cancel it, watching the weather report every few hours.  Why put off the inevitable?  Then, I looked up “jewelry lots” on eBay, hoping to find that I’d get a good price for the entire batch. Not the case.

The signs I made on neon pink poster paper with a huge black marker, all purchased at the Dollar Store for less than $5, easily glued to the sign bases Tom made for me last weekend using four $1.69 wooden stakes, nailed to four pieces of particle board the hardware store cut for me for $9.00.  Total sign cost was around $20.  

The signs read:

Fashion Jewelry Sale
Today 2-6
Nothing Over $21
Gorgeous!
With the signs in the ground appropriately scattered throughout the neighborhood, my dear neighbor and I sat in my kitchen sipping frosty glasses of iced tea, viewing the pleasing display of the 200+ pieces patiently awaiting the first customer. We were tentatively optimistic.

As it turned out 2:00 pm was a poor time to start a sale.  We were hoping to catch the “on their way home from work” crowd, which we did to a degree. But the first three hours were a bust.  A kindly, experienced garage sale enthusiast suggested we try in the early morning when the serious shoppers are frantically driving around.  

The end result of the sale was $152, not what I’d expected.  I looked up “jewelry lots” on eBay again.  My dear neighbor pushed me, “Let’s do it again next Thursday. I’ll help!”  Grudgingly, I agreed.
Next Thursday at 8 am we’ll be ready to roll again.  I’ll change the time on the signs with the purchase of one neon pink poster for $.69, cut into small squares to tape over the old times with the new times.  

As the last shopper walked out the door, her plastic bag of jewelry in hand, her daughter let out a gasp.  This is what she saw, atop Tom’s Croc, outside our kitchen door:
Anyone know what this is?  Or what this will be someday soon?  Is it a worm or a larvae?  I don’t have time to look it up online.  Good thing this critter wasn’t inside his Croc when Tom slipped his foot inside.  

I guess Africa will have bigger, scarier such things.  I didn’t scream. Instead, I took a photo.

Scorpions?…Boots, please!…

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Scorpions in Africa may be from 6″-8″

After reading numerous articles about appropriate clothing to wear while on safari, it only took a few sentences for me to be convinced that proper boots are a must in the bush.

Some websites recommended a short boot and others suggested a taller boot. Although only slightly concerned about creatures crawling up our pant legs, I have opted for the “long BugsAway pants tucked into the boot concept” with a lace up boot. 

This will allow me to tighten the boot at the top to prevent Mr. Scorpion from running up the boot and slithering down the inside of the boot. Oh, please, no.

Tom, who’s used to heavy steel toe boot required by his 42 year railroad job, doesn’t like the idea of boots at all, hoping to toss them out with his watch on retirement day, this upcoming Halloween.  With Mr. Scorpion in mind, I’ll continue to get him on board.  Perhaps, he’ll come around when he sees this photo!

Over the past several weeks while enthusiastically researching boots I had a litany of requirements in mind:

Functional:  Must keep creatures out.  Must be sturdy, providing sure footing.
Must have a thick sole to prevent puncture by thorny brush or snake bite.  
Water resistant: Waterproof, not necessary, but they must be able to withstand a rainy day, subsequently drying without damage.
Comfortable:  My feet are picky.  My feet insist on comfortable shoes.  There is nothing wrong with my feet.  I don’t have bunions or protrusions. I have a high instep which is manageable. For some goofy reason, shoes hurt my feet.  Most of the shoes I’ll be selling at the estate sale will be newer shoes I’ve worn only once, blistering my feet, never to be worn again.  The remainder will be comfortable, overly worn shoes, for which no one would want to pay $1. 
Proper fit:  Comfortable could cover this aspect, but boots may be somewhat comfortable in the foot with a poor fit around the ankle and particularly, the calf.  I have skinny calves.  Yes, I have skinny, muscular calves after years of working out and running around doing my 10,000 steps a day for most of my adult life.  My calves are small, measuring only 12″.  Most boots have a shaft circumference of 14″-15″ leaving me with a huge gap, large enough to fit my hand.  A  lace-up boot may compensate for this anomaly.
Attractive, stylish:  Yea, yea, yea, I know. Cute boots are not necessary.  If all of the above can be accomplished and, the boots are stylish, I will consider it a bonus.  After we leave Africa, the boots, if stylish will be worn and enjoyed for years to come.  
Lightweight: The pair of boots I purchased last night, weight 1.4 pounds.  This is the nature of the beast (no pun intended).  Boots take up vital space in the suitcase.  Solution: wear the boots while traveling by air when weight is an issue. (All bags, regardless of the number are acceptable on cruises, provided any one bag doesn’t exceed 70 pounds.)  If the boots are comfortable, wearing them for long periods will be possible.  Wearing socks, I can remove them on the plane if necessary. Yes, I know, the security check at airports requires the removal of boots.  OK, let’s see.  Scorpion?  Boots?  Scorpion?  Boots? Boots win!!!
Price:  This was tough.  How does one find all the above at a great price?  Well made boots are expensive.  For weeks, I watched boot sales on eBay to no avail. I checked out endless boot resellers, discount wholesale stores and sales at major retailers. On eBay most were offered at BUY IT NOW prices resulting in little opportunity to negotiate, although I did contact a few sellers with lower offers, with no results.  

Last night, I decided to return to my normal process; find the product I like, then price shop.  The Olympics on TV in the background, Tom at my side, contentedly in his comfy chair, playing with Ancestry.com, his favorite pastime activity, I finally found the perfect boot from a manufacturer I know is comfortable and fits me well.  

Excited by this find, the price and size search began.  Two hours later, frustrated with little results, I wandered over to Amazon.com, my favorite online store where I often buy everyday products at great prices, with free shipping, avoiding a trip to a store.  

When I had searched for the boots on Google, a link to Amazon came up on the 2nd page indicating a “weak reference” to the product which drove me away. Usually an item comes up if the search includes the brand, the model and the size.  In this case, it did not.  

Although not hopeful, I pulled up the Amazon.com link to find my boots!!  My size, to boot (no pun intended)!  Yeah!

The total price with shipping was $161.98. Of course, I would have loved to buy these boots for less. Originally, they were offered for $174.98 + shipping. The $25 savings provided a small consolation, but then again, Mr. Scorpion definitely provided the final motivation.

Clark’s Women’s Orinoco Jump Boot

 


Clark’s Women’s Orinoco Jump Boot

 

5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (1 customer review) | Like(3)
Suggested price: $175.00
Price: $149.98 
Size:
Color: Stone Leather
Leather
Rubber sole
Shaft measures approximately 16″ from arch
Heel measures approximately 1.25″
Supple Leather Upper
OrthoLite Footbed
Full Inside Zip Entry
Rubber Sole
Steel Shank