Über-Tacky

GA and I went to our favorite little tacky seafood restaurant last night. They brought tacky to a whole new level.


The ad you can't quite see, just above the tattoo parlor ad, is for a DWI attorney.
I tell you, this is fine dining.

Cruise 2009 part 4 (Days at Sea)

As much fun as the ports of call are, the best part of a transatlantic cruise is the long stretch of sailing on the open seas with no land in sight, and nothing to get off the ship for.

And the best part of a typical day at sea is the formal or semi-formal dining - in this case, on deck three in the Romeo and Juliet dining room:


harB waits for the lovely hostess to come put the napkin in his lap. Photo by Wm.

It's a chance to be pampered, in a way that you cannot remotely expect back at home, no matter how attentive your spouse may try to be. After being seated, the lovely hostess comes by and places your napkin in your lap for you. That's the only reason for the first plate to be there - to hold that little napkin in place in anticipation of your arrival. The ladies are then presented with formal little menus, so they can choose an appetizer or two, and the main course as well. (Dessert comes later). Men get their menus soon after.

Appetizers can be anything from salads to cold fruit soups to escargot. Yes, I said snails, drenched in garlic butter. And yes, it's delicious - but kids, don't try this at home.

Anneline, our attentive and skilled server, made sure that every meal we had in that room was better than the one before. We made sure that harB took it easy at dessert time, but you know how hard it is for him to resist a good chocolate.



A triple chocolate dessert, with dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and white chocolate all on the same tray. Photo by GA.

Between meals, there are endless activities, scattered among the various rooms and decks on the ship. Here is harB, watching the fun from the arms of one of the decorations on the hallway into the Pyramid Lounge, where many of the best activities are held:


Photo by Wm

Some of my favorite activities are:

• Karaoke - this is done in a lounge set aside for just that, complete with its own bar, several TV monitors so you can see the words whichever way you want to face, and plenty of songs to choose from. On special occasions, they even have a live band to play behind you. Try that in a bowling alley.
• Trivia - I didn't even try to do that this cruise, because some of those players take it too seriously. They will argue and fight over the precise meaning of the question or answer in the attempt to score one more crappy keychain.
• Seminars - I mentioned before that they had a guy teaching about digital photography, but there was also a former Los Angeles District Attorney, who gave us the inside scoop on such cases as the Manson murders, the assassination of Robert Kennedy, the Marilyn Monroe case, and others. This was way interesting, and very informative, since he was able to show us evidence that he wasn't allowed to introduce into trials and press conferences. As a result of one of these seminars, I am now convinced that Norma Jean was not only murdered, but that it was done on behalf of the Kennedy family. Just my opinion, of course.
• Ice shows - Great skaters from all over the world show off on the ice rink in one of the lower decks. Jennifer from Russia was especially amazing. These shows were so popular that they had to issue tickets given out early in the morning.
• Theatre entertainment - these included Broadway style revues, singers, and a very good hypnotist. The broadway style shows were better than any I have ever seen, which may have something to do with the size of the ship and the number of passengers.

And I have to tell you about the hypnotist. Now, I'm not going to take a position on whether hypnotism is fake or just a show or if it's real. I don't know. But this guy was good. His main show was very entertaining, and he's billed as the world's fastest hypnotist. Apparently, he's well-known in England, though he was new to me.

He got about forty volunteers from the audience, started to work on them, and I suppose he was looking for some subtle sign telling him if they were going to go under faster or at all, or if they were going to try to fake him out. He got rid of any who had been drinking immediately, and then pulled those who weren't going to be fast enough, and kept the best eight or so. Other than the speed at which he got the show going, I guess it was pretty standard stuff... except that he arranged an unscheduled, midnight performance for those who were young enough to stay awake that late. This one was an "adult" performance, with no kids allowed. Now this one was definitely not your normal hypmotize show. I won't go into details, but it was bizarre and incredibly funny.

Now I find that I cannot remember his name. I wonder if he... no, surely not.

Bottom line: if you want the best value for your vacation dollar, I recommend a repositioning cruise with Royal Caribbean cruise lines, and extend the vacation with a couple of days in a hotel at the other end of the cruise. You can't go wrong with Spain or England.

Thank you for reading these blogs, assuming you stayed with me this far. Leave a comment and let me know if you liked it.

Cruise 2009 part 3 (Spain and Portugal)

The next two ports of call were in Vigo, Spain, and in Funchal, Portugal. We got geocaches in both of them.

Vigo

We had read on Cruise Critic that Vigo is such an "uninteresting place"... which cinched it for us. We knew without a doubt that this was going to be a great place to visit. We actually had three caches loaded into the GPS unit, but the map I printed for us had a somewhat larger scale than I realized, so we settled for just one of them, once we had climbed to the top of the hill (3/4 of a mile as the crow flies), scored the cache, and seen the beautiful historic castle with its lovely landscaping. I can see now why so few people from the cruise ships come up here, especially since they're mostly geriatrics, unlike GA and me. We're still young and spry.

Every once in a while you can get a really neat photo that just has that nice composition and subject matter. After logging the cache, we kept going up the hill and discovered this castle in Castro Park, which nobody had mentioned in the literature, but which made the climb worthwhile. As we got our first view, we saw this:


Man with dog overlooking the bay from the castle in Vigo. Photo by Wm

I don't care who you are or if you like the photo. Well, to be honest, I do care if you like the photo, because I like it. It's a nice photo. So if you don't like it, leave this blog right now and go watch your TV set, loser.

Now this one isn't quite as nice, because of the nasty graffiti, but I like the door, anyway. GA likes doors, and I think sometimes they make good pictures. We can pretend that the graffiti is historic, probably put there by the Spanish Inquisition.


Wm posing at a door in a Spanish castle in Vigo. Photo by GA.

You know, I'm reminded of one session of a seminar that I attended on the cruise. Some British guy was teaching us about digital photography, and he was trying to explain to us about the difference between photographs and art. Now, I will say that this guy took some very nice photos, and that I would consider them to be good art as well, but he was trying to tell us that a photograph is just a record of something you saw, while with art, you have to do something extra to it to make it art. But then he showed us a photo of a lake, which was beautiful, and he tried to claim that since he composed it with the reflection, that made it art - not realizing that he had just trashed his own definition. So I'm back with my original assumption about the subject: art is whatever the artist says it is, and it's entirely subjective, and entirely dependent on what the photographer intended.

This, for instance:


Bench overlooking pool, photo by Wm

That's a beautiful photograph. I didn't really intend it to be art, but I did intend to make it as pleasing as possible to the eye while capturing the reality of it all. But I could just as easily tell you that the empty bench is symbolic of the emptiness of the human condition, and it would be art. But who cares? It's both art and a nice photograph - unless I decide to enter it into a contest, in which case that bench holds the very meaning of life. Which, ahem, it does.

Now this, on the other hand, is indisputably art, because the stairs are a statement on man's climb toward greatness, safety, beauty, and spiritual renewal:

Stairs, photo (I mean art) by Wm

Part of the way back down to sea level, we stopped at Jackie's Cafetería. Here was yet another reason to strike out on our own, rather than follow the footsteps of other tourists from the ship. We were the only non-locals eating there, and with yours truly speaking only a little español, and our waiter speaking only a little inglés, we somehow managed to strike a deal as to lunch. GA had cabbage soup, as it turned out, and I had the hake platter. Both were delicious. For dessert, how could we not have flan con nata, washed down with espresso? Take my word for it that this was the best flan I have ever tasted in my short but eventful life.


After a lovely day of touring castles and practicing arty stuff, we eventually had to go back down to the lowlands, where we found this lovely sculpture, which is art, so that the photo is merely a record of existing art, and not art itself - except that I added something, so maybe it's art after all:


harB sitting in the lap of Jules Verne. Photo by Wm

Now why would Jules Verne be depicted here sitting on a giant squid? Because, dear readers, he favorably mentioned Vigo in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and is therefore beloved of all Vigans. The lesson is that if you ever write a book, mention some obscure little town somewhere, and they will make a statue of you, and hippos will climb on it some day.

Now this next one was absolutely intended to be art, as the sun set behind our cruise ship, and the sea life teemed:


The sun sets in Vigo. Photo by Wm


Funchal

In Funchal, we had three more possible geocaches, but really only intended to get two of them, the third requiring a cable car journey at some expense, and therefore to be used as backup in the event that we failed to find either of the first two. One of these was the Funchal Walkabout, which was very inefficient, strictly in terms of effort to get one little cache - but which was to serve as our tour guide, as it is a multi-cache, taking us to several interesting sites in Funchal, with puzzles to solve at each stage. And the other cache happened to be close to stage three of the multi-cache, so off we went.

Now most of these sites won't be listed on Wikipedia, but that's the point. When caching, you get to see things that are interesting, but which are not on an official tourist guide. Take this interesting little statue on a hidden street:


Statue hidden among buildings in Funchal, photo by Wm

All I can tell you is that each stage had something nice enough to visit. How about this door? I like doors, and they can make interesting photographs, or dare I say it... art? Yes, art. Why not?


Spanish door, behind which the Spanish Inquisition may have tortured a heretic centuries ago. Photo by Wm.

Or try this:


Wm on the Vagrant. Photo by GA.

Know what that is? That, my friends, is stage eight, with the final clue to the real cache. It is also the Vagrant, a yacht once owned by the Beatles. In this photo, I am standing on a spot on the yacht where it is virtually certain that all four of the Fab Four stepped at one time or another. I am therefore blessed among men, for I have trod where Ringo hath trod. (Cue choir music here).
Would I have found this historic vessel had I not been pursuing this cache? Possibly. Just possibly. But nobody else from the Independence knew about it. Pity them.

Still not convinced? OK, remember that second geocache I mentioned, that we picked up after the third stage of the multi-cache? It was placed near a restaurant. This restaurant, the Muralha (which means "the wall") had outdoor seating, and seemed to be as charming as anything you could want. So we ate there after completing the cache:


Wm holding his wine while gazing at his lady in admiration. Photo by GA

We enjoyed battered scabbard, with fried bananas, and it was the best nom noms you can imagine. It was such a sweet, exquisite fish, and it went so well with a local wine that I can't even describe the sheer gastronomic pleasure. I still feel a little faint, just trying to describe it.

Here is what the fish actually looks like:

Photo stolen from Wikipedia

OK, not so appetizing before cooking, but it sure tastes good on a plate.

And finally, here is a photo of the view from the final goal of that multi-cache, a lovely garden area overlooking our cruise ship, as it awaited our return:


The Independence of the Seas, docked in Funchal. Photo by Wm.

Next: the Days at Sea

Cruise 2009 part 2 (France)

We began the actual cruise on November 23rd. GA arranged for us to get to the ship from London by taking a limo service - well, actually a "private car service," using a van. This was actually cheaper than taking the cruise shuttle, because we shared it with three other cruisers, thus splitting it five ways. An added bonus was that the driver stopped at a grocery store on the way, so we could buy our liquid supplies, but mostly so we could buy me some McVities cookies, in the ginger nut and shortbread varieties.

Boarding wasn't bad at all, even with the fact that the Independence is a huge beast cramming 3800 passengers into its vast belly. The lines were long, but they moved quickly, and we were all processed efficiently.

We knew our cabin wouldn't be ready this early, but the Windjammer was open - that's the dining area where you can get just about anything from the buffet. On a previous cruise, we had made friends with some people on Cruise Critic, and it was great to see them in person. This time, for whatever reason, there were very few people we hit it off with on that discussion board. There were a few, mind you, but not so many - and they were hard to find on such a huge ship.

We made a brief tour of the ship, as best we could, bearing in mind that on a ship this size, you can't see everything with a brief stroll. There are three formal dining areas on the beast, on decks three through five, named "Romeo and Juliet," "MacBeth," and "King Lear" respectively. Of course, we were careful to refer to the one on deck four as the "Scottish Play dining room."


GA snickering at the name of the dining room on deck four. Photo by Wm

GA surprised me with a balcony on our cabin - a little more expensive, yes, but it certainly made the cruise even more pleasant, especially since a view of the sea is such a long hike from the inner cabins, and since they were usually crowded, with the chairs already taken most of the time.

The first full day of the cruise, we docked on the coast of France, and took the bus excursion to Paris. There, we saw the Eiffel Tower (of course) as well as dozens of sites in Paris seen from our bus windows, including the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the Champs Elyseese. At the tower, we were allowed to wander around on our own for a few hours, so we logged three geocaches, all within sight of the Eiffel Tower.


Wm, GA, and harB near the Eiffel Tower. Photo by unknown tourist.



The third of these caches was the Liberty Flame, a virtual cache, which means you get credit for it not by signing a physical log, but by taking a photo of yourself holding the GPS in front of it. This was not only the cache farthest from our home coordinates, but was also the farthest point we had ever been from our own front porch, since it was the farthest east of the bus waiting for us. 5,040 miles from home is a long way - this could be hard to beat. Everything after this on the cruise would be heading westward, toward home sweet home.


GA and harB at the Liberty Flame. Photo by Wm

While trying to discreetly log La passerelle avec une vue superbe, a woman came up to us to show us what appeared to be a gold ring which she had found. It was actually a brass ring, and she was trying to get us to accept it and then give her money as a reward. Several other folks on the bus later told us they had been approached with the same scam, but by different people.

The bus trip was a blast, partly because we were seated near that rare commodity, a British lady with a sense of humor. Our tour guide had been trying to tell us the history of France's involvement in WWII, and since we were a bus full of Americans and Brits, she was kind of stammering through it and trying to justify the fact that the French had given up without firing a shot and had simply let the Germans in to rule them. "Don't mention the war," said our British friend, reminding us all of that famous Fawlty Towers episode. Laughter broke out in the rear of the bus, and I'm sure the guide wondered what was so funny.

We had intended to find a little sidewalk café where we could have bread and wine and a rude waiter, but there weren't any cafés close enough to the tower to do that, so we had a delicious panini from a local vendor, and ate it while sitting on a park bench. Life is good.

Of course, life isn't perfect. Public toilets are not easy to find in Paris, but there was fortunately one placed very near the tower, but it was so busy that there was a traffic director stationed at the bottom of the stairs saying "one man," or "two women," whichever became available. Of course he said it in French, so it was "un homme" or some such. Hey, I don't speaka de French.

The architecture is beautiful in Paris, and the only problem I saw with it was that horrible, ugly glass pyramid in front of the Louvre. I cannot believe they have that eyesore in front of such a beautiful building.

The next day, the ship docked at another port in France, this time for our excursion to the American Cemetery, just above Omaha Beach. This was a solemn occasion. On the way back, our guide pointed out the cemetery where they buried the German soldiers. It was marked by a giant black cross, and we were told that the families of these soldiers were required to pay the burial expenses.

But the American Cemetery is treated with respect by the French, well cared for, and protected by French soldiers. It made me feel good.


Grave markers at the American Cemetery in France. Photo by Wm.


Next: Spain and Portugal

Cruise 2009 part 1 (England)

If you're going to take a cruise, you might as well make the most of it. I think we did.
We took the transatlantic repositioning cruise with Royal Caribbean, but this time we did it from east to west, flying in to Heathrow in London, three days early, so we could enjoy London as well as the cruise.

DAY ONE:
We arrived at noon in London, but remember that that's 6:00 am Texas time. One must find a way of dealing with jet lag when one is a jet setter, and our method was to check into the hotel, and take a four hour nap. That left us sleepy, so we could go to sleep properly by England time, yet not exhaust ourselves into a brain fried state. Once awake, we went down to the lobby to buy a Coke and a Dr Pepper - yes, they have those there, being at least semi-civilized. We returned to the room and our smuggled munchies and had a quiet dinner of almonds and soft drinks and crackers. Why didn't we go have a proper English meal downstairs? Because, dear friends, we hadn't taken the time to shower yet, and besides, the exchange rate is such that a six dollar meal in the USA is the equivalent of a ten dollar meal in England - not that I was going to worry about the exchange rate, since I intended to have a good time worthy of the expense of flying all the way to London.
So then we went to bed at the proper time - not sundown, because in England in the winter, the sun sets at about 4:00, or 1600 as they express it. We slept about ten hours, and in the morning we were all set for British time.

DAY TWO:
We skipped breakfast for some reason, mostly because we weren't really hungry, and we walked to The Plough after getting some advice on how to use public transport in London. The Plough is both a pub and a bus stop. It cost £2 (pounds sterling) for each of us to ride the bus to the nearest tube station, where we invested in two one-day passes for public transportation, which let us wave a little ticket around or feed it into a turnstile thingy whenever we wanted to ride a train or a bus (thus saving the £2 for the return trip on the bus). It took us a little figuring at first, but then it became sort of clear. So from the Plough, we took the 222 to Hounslough West, where we took the train to Piccadilly Circus - which isn't really a circus, with clowns and stuff, but kind of a neighborhood or shopping district. After climbing out of the tube station to the busy sidewalk above, we discovered that the GPS didn't work among the tall buildings in London, because it couldn't see the sky. Come to think of it, neither could we. We had meant to mark a waypoint on the GPS so we could find our way back, but we had to settle for breadcrumbs.
So we wandered down the street, dropping our bread crumbs, until we saw a promising looking alley, which contained a sandwich shop callled "Piggy's." It's a little different in London; you order, you eat, and then you pay, even in a sandwich shop. If you tip at all - and Brits are notoriously bad tippers - you tip no more than 10%, no matter how good the service. The sandwiches were delicious, but the salt and vinegar chips weren't really strong enough to suit me. In Texas, they almost blow your nose for you, but I guess in England they're more subtle.
It was fortuitously the first day of Christmas shopping in London. Imagine that: we didn't bump into Ebenezer Scrooge or any crippled orphans, but where else would you want to be when doing your Christmas shopping? Lights were strung over the streets, and the sidewalks were crowded to near-capacity. We weren't sure which side of the sidewalk was appropriate, because after all, they drive on the wrong side of the road in England, but then in America there is no set side of the sidewalk for directions of walking, either. It turned out that the direction of travel is entirely random. In fact, you can be walking with the crowd on the right side, and then after crossing the street, they will have reversed it so you have to walk on the left! If you don't think that makes for a lot of bumping and excuse-me-ing, think again.
We found ourselves shopping at Selfridge's, which apparently is mentioned in some Christmas movie or another, and which may have been GA's objective in the first place. In any case, they have a men's room on the second floor, and a women's room on the fourth, so it's a good thing we went shopping, if you know what I mean. We bought a nice little roll of orange candies for me, mostly because it was made with chiles, and I always love a good chile candy.
Getting back on the train was a little more interesting than coming downtown, because it was kind of like rush hour for people getting off work, and because it was, after all, the first day of the shopping season. So we got crammed into the train, and stood up until we got back to Hounslough West station, and then found a bus stop to catch good old 222.
The first 222 that came by was full. They let off a half dozen people, but didn't even open the doors for anybody to get on, which I guess made sense, as there really wasn't even standing room. No problem, we'll just wait for the next bus.
It was almost full, too, but they let on a few and then closed the doors before we could get on. OK... GA suggested that we needed to be a bit more aggressive about staying close to the front for boarding.
The third bus didn't even open its doors.
It started raining, and getting colder. We were sharing the stop with about two dozen folks, mostly Indians and Muslim women wearing burkhas.
The fourth bus was full, too. Now, the other routes all had room, and people were getting on them with no problem, but 222 seemed to be greatly under served. Then too, all the other routes had those cool British double deckers, with double capacity. Ours was your standard government issue one story buses.
Now, there is a lane reserved briefly for the bus stop as you drive by one. Only buses are allowed in it. But after the fourth bus left, here came a taxi who was in a hurry, and so he veered into the bus lane to get around the traffic which was stopped for about a block, waiting to get through the intersection. He wasn't there legally, so he had to make it fast, of course, so he wouldn't get caught - and as he flew by our little bus stop he hit the puddle which had formed as a result of the nice, new rain, thereby splashing most of us waiting for yet another 222 to come by. We almost saw it in slow motion, all of us gasping in unison, all of us knowing our world was about to get a lot colder and wetter, all of us knowing it was too late to get out of the way, because we were packed like little British sardines trying to stay dry under the shelter.
Nobody complained except us, so I guess they're used to it by now. In Texas, that taxi driver might have his taxi shoved up his street, if you get my drift.
The fifth bus had room, sort of, so GA and I were hanging onto the straps with one hand and our shopping bags with the other. The bus made a sudden halt (probably to avoid a taxi), and all of us standing were thrown forward into each other, almost into laps had it not been for the straps not breaking. I made the mistake of using humor to make things more comfortable, as I would have in Texas. "Well, I guess we're all good friends now!" No response at all. Brits are so stuffy, sometimes.
We made it back to the Plough, and then to the hotel, where we had "proper" fish and chips, which means that it wasn't wrapped in a newspaper, but served on an actual plate. This was explained to us by a British couple there, who suggested Boddingtons, a particular beer which was on tap, and which I bought, just in case maybe I might actually like it for a change - but I didn't, though I will admit it came closer to being drinkable than most American beers. So I had wine, and gave the beer to GA.

DAY THREE: Today, the plan was to go visit Kew Gardens. I particularly wanted to do that, since I so enjoy the Mary Hopkin song about it, but I also happen to like plants and gardens, especially British gardens. So we made the short hike back to the Plough, caught the 222, much less crowded this time, and this time made a different connection on the tube, and then another bus to Kew Gardens. That's pretty much the key to getting around in London - get that pass, and take a bus to the train, and then take the train to the next bus, which takes you where you want to be.
We bought our tickets in the rain, but we had our umbrellas, and the plan was to go straight for one of the snack shops, but immediately after we bought our tickets, a storm blew in, which means that the rain falls sideways and comes at you like wet little bullets. So we got to the nearest shelter, and spent the time letting GA decide what she was going to buy for Christmas presents before we went home. After a while the rain was only coming down at a sharp angle, rather than straight sideways, which we figured was good enough, so we began our little tour. It's a beautiful place, with one lane roads taking the visitor from one section to the next, so we aimed generally toward the White Peaks Café, where we enjoyed delicious ham sandwiches with butter and English mustard, washed down with fermented lemonade. I told GA that as soon as were finished with lunch, the rain would stop, the sun would come out, and we would have a perfect day. And since the day had started out wet and miserable, the crowds would be thin, too. As it happens, I was right. Actually, God had done that for us many times, such as at the panda exhibit at the Atlanta Zoo, and I have gotten used to the pattern. God is, after all, in charge of the weather, not Harry Potter, even in London.
Knowing we were going to Kew Gardens, we had already gotten the coordinates for a virtual cache in Kew Gardens, conveniently loaded into the GPS. This was going to be our next objective, and it would be our first cache in Europe, and for the time being the furthest from our home. All we had to do is either take a photo of ourselves with our GPS, or else answer two questions posted on the geocaching website.
We did both, just to make sure:

Photo by GA

When I turned on our new camera, which is a video camera that also takes still shots, I got a message about a low battery. I kind of panicked, and I took less video than I had planned, because I wanted to get at least the best stuff in the garden. Turns out later that it's a false alarm, and may be just part of the booting up process, because there was actually plenty of juice left in the battery. Later, I discovered that that false warning is an even greater annoyance than I at first understood, mainly because if you press the record button before that warning goes away, it doesn't count - which means you think you're recording some great, Oscar-winning video of a place you'll never see again, but you're actually about to get a two second clip of your scene after you think you've stopped the camera, just before you close the thing and then it stops - usually as you're saying something like "that's going to look great when we get home," as you swing down to a lovely view of the sidewalk and your shoes.
We saw some wonderful plants at Kew Gardens, including the Sago Palm specimens, which can be purchased at our local fruit stand for $15, Texan, though you have to plant it yourself.
Yes, I also took actual photographs, which did, in fact, turn out:


GA standing among the lovely flowers of Kew Gardens. Photo by Wm



Wm standing by a picturesque brick wall in Kew Gardens. Photo by GA.



harB admiring the lovely statuary in Kew Gardens. Photo by Wm.

Next: France, including Paris and the American Cemetery above Omaha Beach.

A Halloween Story

“Crap”

by William Payne.

© October, 2009

Lisa opened her browser, and clicked on the Facebook icon.

She sipped on the coffee on the coaster to her left. It wasn't a real coaster, just a failed CD, that didn't work when it had been burned, but it kept the hot coffee from discoloring the desk. It was a cheap desk, anyway, and a cheaper CD. The coffee was good – not as good as hazelnut cinnamon, but better than Folger's.

She scrolled quickly down the updates, reading some of them and ignoring others. There was Annie again, the person she had added to her friends list just so she could have a bigger Mafia in Mafia Wars, but she had never gotten around to “hiding” Annie's updates. Sometimes they were interesting, mostly crazy, and that always made things more fun. She wondered what it would be like to have a friend like Annie. Most of her real life friends were predictable. Fun, but predictable.

She added her own update, to replace the old one from yesterday.

“I think I'll go as a pimple for Halloween,” she wrote. “I'll paint myself red and hold a mouthful of mayonnaise.” That ought to entertain everyone, even if it is an old joke.

Next, she looked at the upper right corner, where there were three Mafia Wars gifts waiting, plus several invitations to apps – applications, in Facebook language – that she had no interest in.

But as she hit the ignore icons, one after the other, she saw one that sounded interesting.

Annie has sent you a free tombstone in the Real Life Horror game. [Accept], [Ignore].

Lisa had tried the Vampire game before, found it boring and a little silly, but she thought this sounded kind of fun. And after all, it was almost Halloween. And Annie's crazy, so this won't be some boring dog-walking game, or pie baking game, knowing her.

She accepted the tombstone, and then gave the app permission to install on her account.

Welcome to Real Life Horror. Select your character name and class.

“OK. I'll be Lisa, just because I like the name,” she said. She chose “female” from the simple menu, and considered whether to be mortal, vampire, ghost or monster. Mortal, she decided.

An instant message popped up on the lower right of her screen.

- Hey. It was Jan, a friend she had met in a class a few years back.

- Hey.Wassup?

- I got tickets to the haunted house the theatre is doing. Want to come? Tomorrow night.

- Sure.

- Gr8, TTYL.

Jan would be fun at a haunted house. She was always acting so fearless, but she screamed the loudest when something scary came out of the dark.

“OK, mortal I shall be, and we'll go with the default avatar. No, let's at least change the hair.” She took another sip of coffee, while the app did something that just seemed to waste time.

Level 1, said the message at the top of the screen, and then a graphic of a haunted house appeared. The house was surrounded by silhouettes of dead trees, and a yellow full moon was placed just behind the house. OK, let's see what we're supposed to do. She moved the mouse around the screen, looking for a link to click on. Maybe the door or window? She clicked on the door. Nothing. Must not be finished loading, she thought.

Someone knocked on the door, the real one on her real house, and Lisa jumped in her chair a little, and almost dropped the mouse on the floor.

“I don't know who you are, out there, but you're wrong, just wrong!” she muttered, and laughed, on her way to the door.

She opened the door, and there was nobody there. “Not funny,” she said, to whomever was probably hiding behind a bush, just out of sight. She closed the door. “At least they didn't leave a bag of flaming dog crap on the porch. Moron.”

She went back to her computer, and now the door to the house was open, and a small message box had appeared: Go in.

She clicked on the Go In box and the view zoomed up to the door and into the house. Now she was looking at a room in the house, with cobwebs and dusty furniture, and a new message box: Choose one: kitchen, dining room, pantry, basement, backyard. “This is going to work like those old text games, isn't it?” she asked no one in particular. Those used to be fun back in the day.

She chose kitchen. The scene changed to a clean, well-lit kitchen, with sharp knives lying around. A wooden cutting board was placed on the counter, next to two of the largest, shiniest knives. A pool of red liquid was dripping from the cutting board to the clean surface of the counter.

“Nice graphics, anyway. Now what?” she asked, and waited for another menu to appear. None came. “Maybe I'm supposed to find something to click on now,” she said, and moved the mouse around. Nothing again.

Another IM appeared in the lower right. It was Annie.

-You there?

-Yes.

-Did you install that app I invited you to?

-Yes.

She waited for a response, but none came.

-Do I need to do something? I don't really understand this thing.

Still no answer.

A menu appeared in the kitchen: Choose one: Pick up knife, Look under cutting board, or...

The kitchen became dark.

...find the fuse box and replace the fuse.

“Oh, this is going to be more fun than I thought,” she said, and considered her options. Whatever she did, she might be better off holding the knife, in case something jumped out at her. She selected pick up knife.

The knife lifted above the cutting board, as if held by a ghost. She selected look under cutting board.

The board tilted, and a large rat jumped out, as a scary shriek came from the speakers. The knife dropped to the floor immediately. As the sound of the knife clattering on the floor sounded, she heard a more realistic sound of something hitting the floor in her own, very real, kitchen.

A chill went down her spine. What in the world...?

She got up from her chair slowly. She stopped at the door to the hallway, and wondered if she should call somebody before going into the kitchen.

Silence from the rest of the house. Silence from the computer.

Instead of the kitchen, she went to the front door. Still locked. She wouldn't have left it unlocked. Not in this city. Good grief, she wasn't stupid.

She had to check the kitchen anyway, even if it was obvious that nobody... no, what are you thinking, girl? Anyone who came in could have locked the door behind them.

Brother. Check the kitchen.

Nobody in the kitchen. But there was a knife on the floor.

Crap!

And it wasn't one of hers. At least she didn't think so. She didn't exactly have a matched set.

Crap crap crap!

What now? Should she call 911? It's probably nothing. Probably. Should she call a friend? Yes, call a friend. Where's the phone? In her purse. Back in the study. Of course.

She looked around the kitchen quickly, to see if she could see any other signs of something being wrong. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. The pantry was way too small to hide in, way too shallow. She could barely fit her canned goods in, and some of the boxes – OK, keep your eyes open and get back to the study and get the phone. She listened carefully, maybe she could hear somebody breathing, but no, and now she could hear the wind blowing outside. Had it been blowing before? She got back to the study, opened her purse, and got the phone. It was turned off. I didn't turn it off, did I? What the freaking blazes...?Lisa, get a grip!

She turned it on, and it seemed to take forever to boot up. When it finally did, there were only two bars. There should have been four. No... now there was only one. She chose Chaston to call. He was big, and he was the type to be eager to come to a damsel's aid when needed. She scrolled to his name, and pressed the green “call” key.

Nothing.

There were no bars now. None.

Double crap!

What should she do? OK, first thing, stay rational. Don't panic. Think this out.

She didn't really know for sure that anyone was in the house. The thing to do is... Ah, cheese! What am I thinking? I have a by golly gee whiz bang loaded gun here!

...Except it's in the bedroom, down the hall the other way. OK. Get the gun, and then go around the house checking each room, one at a time. This could be nothing, just me getting jumpy the night before Halloween.

She listened. No sound but her own breathing. She went to the kitchen again, to make sure it was empty. OK... the knife. She should get the knife. Better than nothing. She picked it up, and walked silently down the hall, and opened the bedroom door. Nobody there. Nobody behind her in the hall, either. What about the closet?

No, back up a little. Check the utility room. Nowhere to hide in there, and this would make sure that nobody was following her and slipping past her. She opened the door, and it was empty. She closed the door again.

OK, into the bedroom, check the bathroom, then the closet.

Nothing was in the bathroom. So...it's the closet or nothing. If the closet is empty, I'm safe and I just imagined all this, and nobody has to know. Good thing I didn't call 911. Bad phone service can be a blessing. So... the closet. OK. The closet.

Not as easy as it sounds.

She held the knife firmly in her right hand, slowly and quietly gripped the closet door with her left. She held her breath. She yanked the door open.

Nobody in there either.

Oh, beans. Get a grip. See? Nothing to worry about here.

OK, where did the knife come from? She couldn't remember any recent guests bringing a knife. What was going on here? The knife wasn't familiar, but - she mostly had a collection of dishes and stuff, décor was Early Garage Sale.

She took several deep breaths and went back to her study, and looked at the screen again. The IM box had a conversation in it.

-You there?

-Yes.

-Did you install that app I invited you to?

-Yes.

-Do I need to do something? I don't really understand this thing.

-Don't.

-Don't what??

-Don't install it. It's bad.

-I already did. I'm enjoying it so far.

-Stop playing it. Delete the app. Now.

- Nah, I'm gonna play it.

She had not typed those words. Some hacker? She touched the keyboard, intending to ask Annie what was going on, what the blazes was going on, and...

Words appeared on the screen, but they weren't what she was typing.

- I'm not going to delete this. It's fun.

A new box appeared in the game window: Calm down, Lisa! You aren't hurt yet, are you? Choose: kill the rat, feed the rat, leave the kitchen.

As if her heart hadn't been pounding enough before, it beat faster. I don't like this. Should I play it? OK, it's just a silly game...

She chose Leave the kitchen. It seemed better than doing anything with the rat, which stared angrily at her from underneath the cutting board on the screen. Its eyes blinked from time to time, but otherwise it stayed still.

Go where, Lisa? Living room, bedroom, backyard?

Outside. She wanted to get on with it, get out of this stupid haunted house and finish this stupid game. The wind outside seemed to blow harder.

She clicked on the word backyard. And she immediately heard a loud shriek through the study window, out in the backyard. She swallowed. Nuts!This is nuts!

She checked the phone again. Still no bars. No signal at all. She tried to call anyway. Nothing.

A new message box appeared on the screen: You have to go outside now. It's the rules.

“Yeah? What if I don't?”

The screen said simply, the game gets worse if you don't.

Her chest hurt. Was the game listening to her? No. All these words made perfect sense without considering anything she had said. Why was she so jumpy? This comes from living alone too long.

She remembered the gun in the bedroom.

The next message was And don't bring your gun. If you do, you will lose the game because you cheated. It will be very bad if you lose. Don't lose.

It didn't say anything about the knife, though.

Oh, come on – it's just a game!

Well, yeah, but I guess it would be unsafe to carry a gun around when I'm this jumpy. I could end up shooting some cat, or even a kid. Or something.

With the knife firmly gripped, she went to the back door, which she always kept locked, and removed the deadbolt. She opened the door. The wind was blowing, and cold, and leaves were flying across the yard, it felt wrong. Something felt wrong. What?

Crap. Calm the blazes down, Lisa.

She stepped outside, and waited for something to happen. She didn't know if she would be able to actually stab anything if it attacked her, but she got ready to try, because what if....?

The porch light went out. Her world became dark and black for a moment, and when her eyes adjusted, she could see a completely different yard than she knew as her own. There were stones in rows. Gravestones. She looked behind her. Her house was gone. In its place was an old, two-story shack. A loose shutter was banging in the wind. She heard a noise, turned back to the yard, and saw the rat running to hide behind one of the stones. But now it wasn't a cartoon rat, it was a real one, a huge one. She heard another noise, and turned again, holding the knife in her shaking hands. Someone was coming out the door. She stepped back.

“Lisa?” said the figure in the dark.

Lisa wasn't sure if she wanted to see any better than she could in the dim moonlight. She wasn't sure if she should answer. She wasn't sure about anything at all.

“Come with me, Lisa. I know the way back. We have to go. Now.”

“Who are you? Who are you? Tell me now!”

“I'm Annie. Let's go.”

“Annie? From Facebook? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, but let's go.”

“Crap! What is going on here? Where are we?”

“We're in a very bad game. We have to go. Now.”

“Can I trust you?”

“Now! We have to go now!”

“OK! Crap!” And they ran back into the house.

A very tall, very angry looking man in tattered clothes stood at the other end of the kitchen, blocking the door. They stopped, but almost collided with him.

“Let us through,” said Annie. “You have to let us through. You know this.”

“Crap crap CRAP!” said Lisa.

The man, who smelled very, very bad, as Lisa could now tell, whispered, “Stop saying 'crap,' Lisa. It makes you sound childish.”

Oh, crap, he knows my name? How does he know my name?

“Don't think it, either,” said the man. “I can hear your thinking. You think very stupidly.”

“I said let us through!”

Instead of moving aside, he lifted a meat cleaver. He lifted it slowly. It reflected the moonlight. It was surprisingly clean, given the filthy clothes the man was wearing. Lisa could see a narrow edge of freshly sharpened steel.

“Let us through.” Annie was not as loud, and she was shaking now, though not as badly as Lisa.

The man hurled the cleaver at the floor between their feet. It sank into the board almost all the way to its handle with a thunk! It was loud. Much louder than Lisa thought it should sound, maybe as loud as those theater sound effects – amplified, almost. She could feel the shock of its impact through the floor, and felt the sound in her chest. Dust fell from the walls to her side. More dust drifted down from the ceiling. The dust felt more than just dirty.

“Let us through.” Annie said it again, but sounded weak now.

The man nodded, smiled, and stepped aside.

“Well, go ahead and go,” breathed the man, rasping voicelessly. “I won't lift a finger.” He pointed at the cleaver in the floor, and on one side of it were four fingers, bleeding from their severed ends. He lifted his other hand. It had small bloody stumps instead of fingers. He began laughing and wheezing. Annie ran through the door, with Lisa close behind.

The front door wouldn't open.

“Annie?”

Annie stared at the door. She didn't move.

“What do we do, Annie?”

Annie didn't move. Lisa listened carefully. Annie didn't breathe. There was no wind outside. The world seemed to have gone silent. It seemed to have gone completely still.

She reached to Annie, but her hand passed through as if Annie were less than smoke.

“Annie?” she whimpered. “Annie? What do I do now?”

She looked back to the kitchen.

No sound. But there was a faint glow, or maybe it was just the moonlight. But it seemed like an artificial light.

She stepped closer to the kitchen. The cleaver was still in the floor, next to the fingers. The man no longer had a smell. He was motionless. He didn't even breathe, but Annie had no intention of touching him to see if he would move.

The glow was coming from outside the open door to the back yard.

She looked back again at Annie. No motion.

If anything was going on, it would be at the backyard, where the glow was. She went to the door, looked outside. Maybe there was a way out.

And there it was. Silent. Motionless. Suspended in the air, glowing, perpetually marking time, busy and yet not really busy. An hourglass. A Microsoft Windows hourglass icon, in the middle of the sky, waiting for some event. Waiting for something to happen, locked in an eternal, digital loop.

She looked back at Annie. Motionless. Silent.

There was no escape key. There was no mouse to move.

There was no reset button.

There was no tomorrow.

There would never be Halloween again. Not for Lisa.

“Crap,” she said, and sat on the ground. “Crap, crap and double crap.” The silence was going to be deafening.

Rain

The rain falls softly here, sometimes. No thunder, no lightning, no hurricanes. Just a little wind comes to whisper through the trees on the other side of the wooden fence, in the thin forest between us and the highway.

It comes down hard enough for a while to run off the roof into the rain barrel, and the sound is pleasant, like a waterfall in a cave, but no echo. Then you can't hear it at all - just a silent settling of a mist, enough to make you turn your head if you wear glasses. The trees still sway, but very slowly.

You can hear a little brook sound across the street, where the street run off goes into the gutter. All the air conditioners go silent because the rain made it cool for the day.

My favorite days are those in the winter, with gray skies, and still air, and silence, if the dogs are quiet and nobody's fighting.

But this will do until then.

Washington state

I just had the most wonderful week visiting the state of Washington.
We made a point of finding a few caches on the way. This one was a virtual, at a historic gas station made to look like a teapot:



But the most fun was in Seattle, where I spent a lot of time at the Seattle Center, site of the World's Fair in 1962. Here is the Peace Garden:


This is situated almost directly under the Space Needle, and I suppose if it weren't for the glass windows preventing it, people could have spit on me down below. They might have hit me, or they might have hit the numerous homeless people. These homeless people are, as the name of the park implies, very peaceful. They peacefully ask for money because they just got their duffel bag stolen, or they need money for their father's spleen operation, or for a bus ticket home so they can escape their life of drugs/prostitution/whatnot.

Something you have to do in Seattle is go to the Pike street market, where they throw fish around and yell at each other. It was a little crowded the day we went - not because of the homeless people, which are actually entertaining at the market, but because we managed to coincide our visit with that of a cruise ship, but we still enjoyed the time we spent. We ate at a nice little Greek restaurant several levels below and off the obvious trails to avoid the crowds - very good lamb, plus some things I can't pronounce much less spell. Here are the fish being thrown:




Then, back to the Science center to pay admission to the Experimental Music Project and Science Fiction Museum, which is also under the shadow of the Space Needle. Paying admission is a good thing because it gets you clear of the homeless people plying their trade. Here's the Space Needle, in all its glory:



...and once inside, you can see things like the original costumes worn in Blade Runner, and the original Captain's station in the Starship Enterprise - not the Captain Picard one, but the one that William Shatner parked his butt in. I saw a First Edition of Have Space Suit Will Travel, which is the first Science Fiction novel I ever read. Use the provided link to see a picture of the cover of that first edition.

One fun thing to do is the Seattle Underground Tour. It takes about 90 minutes and 15 bucks, and the first half hour is a very cheesy history lesson given by (in our case) a relatively attractive young lady, before they turn you over to a somewhat less skilled and personable tour guide. It's worthwhile mostly because you finally understand why Seattle is built so funny. Apparently, it has to do with the fact that the sewage system was unworkable with the way the hills dumped the crap on the low lying areas next to the ocean, where the brothels and opium dens were.

But probably the biggest thrill was seeing the very guitar that Jimi Hendrix played at Woodstock - the white Fender Stratocaster used to produce the gentle, melodious sounds of the Star Spangled Banner on Yasger's farm, where only 30,000 or so of the former half million concert goers were left to see it, the rest having gone home to their jobs after taxing "the system" with their emergency disaster needs (while reveling in the idea that their lifestyle was sustainable in the real world because they had done it for three days). Here is that guitar, a bit blurry because the lights were reverently dim and I was using my cell phone:


By the way, they don't ask for "spare change" anymore. Now it's 14 bucks for something they need. Inflation has taken its toll.

Highway 287

Lately, highways have begun to fascinate me. I think it started with the realization that highway 6, just outside my HOA, is the same highway that goes through Copper Breaks State Park and Quanah, TX, and just past one of the first caves I ever entered without paying an admission fee and following a paid tour guide. Here, it has six lanes of slow, busy traffic, but in Quanah, it's a two-lane that doesn't pose much of a threat to the occasional armadillo.

I often make a trip to or from Houston and Wichita Falls. About half the trip is on Interstate 45, which some consider to be one of the worst in the nation, but which I find easy compared to certain stretches of I-35 south of Dallas. The other half is done on hwy 287, which goes right through Wichita Falls, and to the northwest, intersects with hwy 6... in Quanah.

Hwy 287 goes south from Wichita Falls through Fort Worth, Grapeville, Palestine, and Port Arthur. It goes north to Memphis (TX), through the Oklahoma panhandle, on to Denver, and then on into Wyoming, Montana... and eventually on to the Canadian border, though it keeps getting less and less important on the way, so that Google maps doesn't even bother with the number after it leaves Choteau, MT.

It never got the respect that Route 66 got - songs, TV shows, T shirts - but the original R66 was a two lane with no shoulders crossing that romantic desert west, while 287 was a mighty four lane divided highway almost every inch between the gulf coast and Denver.

The lesson is that if you're near the writers in LA or New York, you get attention out the wazoo. Everybody else gets nada, regardless of merit. That's why they call us "fly-over country." Yet, for some reason, we let those overpaid stuffed shirts tell us what we're supposed to think, and how to vote.

It's worth remembering.

Putting the Punk in Punctuality

There are many things I like about living in the Houston area. There are also things I don't like, such as the common practice of leaving shopping carts where you empty them, even when the cart rack is only ten feet away. One thing I don't like at all around here is the complete lack of punctuality. Whether you're dealing with the cable company, the refrigerator repairman, the plumber, or the pest control company, they never keep their appointments. If they make the appointment for "in the morning," you can expect them at 5:15 pm. If they say 9:30, the earliest they offer, you won't see them before noon.

Is my time worth nothing? ARS called me yesterday and offered me a discount if they could come out and service my air conditioning system. I don't need them, mind you, I just thought it would be a good idea to get it done, so I took them up on their offer and let them give me a time they could come out. They're over an hour late (so far), and they haven't even bothered to call. So I have to put my own errands on hold because I don't know when they're going to show up.

This is the way it's done down here in the Houston area. When my POS Whirlpool refrigerator required repeated servicing (a dozen times or so), they never once showed up on time - or even in the same half-day window.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should bother staying past the first hour. Just let them show up and wonder where I went.

Dialysis R Us

I'm used to finding all manner of paper and cardboard hanging from my doorknob. It's usually somebody trying to scrounge up business, for a lawn care company, or maybe a maid service.

Today, on my way out of the house to toss one more plastic bottle into the recycle tub out at the curb before the waste management people arrived to make my world a cleaner place, I saw a new one: a slick brown cardboard advertisement hanging from the knob. This one was for home dialysis.

Is this the best way to get new customers for dialysis? Are they trying to be the first to get to me when I suffer from renal failure? Is this kind of like ambulance chasing for your kidneys?

I can just see the dad in the household, coming home from work and pulling the card from the door, reading the ad, and calling up to everyone upstairs in the TV room: "Hey! Anybody up there need any dialysis? They got a special on this week."

"Not today, dear... but put it in the coupon drawer, in case something comes up."

"OK. My pee does smell a little strong lately."

"Want me to call a doctor?"

"Naw. Doctors don't know nothin'. If my eyes turn yeller, we'll know who to call."

I love this place.

Sea World and the greedy dolphin slavemasters

So we went to San Antonio this Saturday to meet the grandkids for a day of romping in the wet attractions, and to see Shamu.



Going on a Saturday in August is NOT a good idea. While I did enjoy seeing the kiddos, Sea World made me feel less like a customer or visitor than a cash cow.

Even on the best of days, you would have to say that this is a very expensive theme park to visit, but at least you'd have a good time. But they apparently make no effort to avoid over-selling the park. We were first greeted by the kid selling the parking permits: $15 a car, which is ridiculous. But it's their park, so we had to pay it.

We had already bought our tickets online, costing over a hundred bucks for the two of us. Once in the gate, though, we found it so crowded that we could barely turn around. For my part, I was able to ride two roller coasters once each, and I saw the 4D pirate film, and I saw Shamu Rocks Texas. To accomplish the Shamu admission, we had to stand in line in the sun for an hour before they even started letting people in - otherwise we couldn't even get standing room in the back. Georganne didn't even do the roller coasters or the pirate film.

Getting lunch required a wait in line for 45 minutes! And then we had to fight to get a place to sit down and eat.

To add insult to injury, Sea World has taken a hint from Disney and started selling Fast Passes, where you pay extra and you can jump the line ahead of the other people who have already been waiting for their hour, thus making their wait even longer, and Sea World's pockets even fuller. For the record, I find the whole concept of Fast Passes unfair and obscene. After waiting all that time, and finally getting to the ride, when I'm NEXT - oh, sorry sir, these people have a Fast Pass so you'll have to wait for them.

Again, it's their park, so they can run it as they please, but it seems to me that there should be a limit on admissions to prevent overcrowding. There were at least twice as many people in that park than there should have been.

On the plus side, and I always like to be an optimist, the Killer Whales (all of which are named Shamu) are magnificent, smart animals. And the Steel Eel is one screamer of a roller coaster.

And after the day ended, and the sun went down, we had a very pleasant stay at the Holiday Inn Express nearby, which had a Shamu mural on the elevator door.

Galveston

I guess I never realized how much fun Galveston could be.

The grandkids were here for a week - with their parents, of course, which makes it even more fun - but we saw this ad for Moody Gardens, which has recently reopened after getting drowned by Hurricane Ike.

I mostly wanted to go because of the dinosaur-related stuff. See, they have these pyramids - three of them - and one is an aquarium complex, where you can go down several floors and see replicas of several coral reefs in the world. They've figured out how to reproduce the corals so we can visit living specimens in their natural environment. Well, sort of natural. It's a fake natural, but it's real coral.

Another is kind of a general scientific interest pyramid, which has what I came to see, the dinosaur stuff. They have an Imax movie I've been wanting to see for years: Dinosaurs Alive, in 3D. You better believe I enjoyed that, even if the narrator did say stupid things like "Less than 2% of dinosaur species have been discovered," which is mathematical nonsense, since we're expressing a percentage of an unknown quantity by definition. I don't care - I just love seeing realistic 3D dinosaurs trying to bite me right in front of my face.



My favorite was the third pyramid (in no particular order), the rain forest. Here, you can follow a comfortable path and see specimens of plants from rain forests of the world, including coffee trees, cocoa bean trees, and vanilla orchids. Did you know that vanilla comes from orchids? I sure didn't.


Weird flowers in the rain forest pyramid. Photo by wm

There were colorful birds, turtles and fishies in the pools of the pyramid, and I want to go again so I can wander more slowly.


Birds in Moody Gardens rain-forest pyramid. Photo by wm

After spending the day at Moody Gardens, GA thought it would be a great idea to take the Bolivar ferry off the island. It was a good idea, since the grandkids had never been on one, and as far as I know had never been on the ocean except for the beach. So we went across to Bolivar, then turned right back around and came back to Galveston. It happened to be sunset as we made the crossing, which was perfect timing.


Sunset on the Bolivar ferry. Photo by wm

setting the clock in Midland

While staying in the Holiday Inn Express in Midland TX recently, we were unable to set the clock. It had a convenient label glued to the top of the clock, explaining in exciting detail how to set the alarm - good thing, too, because it was like finding the Easter Egg on a Sony DVD. You have to hold this button down while pressing the Alarm button, and you have to hold your tongue just right.

But it doesn't do much good to set the alarm if the clock is six and a half hours off. I suppose you could offset the alarm time by that same six and a half hours, but I didn't think of that, because we had already had too many margaritas at Summer Mummers. Besides, we were still shedding popcorn all over their carpet.

Turns out the trick is to find the power button and press it. I'm not sure it was turning it on or off, but it doesn't matter - you press it and the hidden clock button starts responding (it's under the clock). As far as I could tell, nothing was really being turned on or off by pressing the power button, but it somehow affected the clock button. So, to set that button:

1. Turn the clock over.
2. Press the power button.
3. Hold down the clock button and press the hour button. If nothing happens, press the power button again.
4. Still holding the clock button down, press the minutes button until the time is correct.
5. Now you can set the alarm, by following the instructions glued to the top of the clock - if they are still there.

As for setting the radio stations, that one is beyond me.