Hugs

May 3, 2013

... evening falls ... as seen from a balcony ...

We lose an hour every day.

 Of course, we are going to gain it all May 7th, when we wake up the next day and have May 7th again. I wish it were May 8th.

Then I would have two parties instead of one, making me the only 73 year old who has had 74 legitimate birthdays.

But no, crossing the dateline will not by the day of my birthday.

... sightseeers at a port waving good-bye ...
... as seen from a balcony ...

In search of having more birthdays, I returned to a regular exercise schedule, having really been on holidays for the last 3 weeks – holidays from everything. I think those vacation days started the time I dropped my pedometer in a washroom. “I must bend over and pick that up,” I remember thinking. But at the end of the day, -- lost, my brand new pedometer and I only got three weeks of 10,000 steps a day out of it.

Last night I got over my grief about the loss of a potential birthday and started walking again. This time, from aft where I live, to forward ... on the seventh floor. I hurry there and then down the elevator when I got to the theatre on the fourth floor. Now I decided to clock myself going down that hall – at full speed – not a lope, but moving right along, it takes me three minutes from door 7000 to 7298 and then I return for another three minutes walk down the odd numbers of the 7000’s circling down to my room.

Our room.

I am wanting to book it for the next cruise as well.

There isn’t that much call for a balcony when people know they are going up through Russian waters and over to Alaska. It has been too cold to go stand out there.

... night lights on the water ... as seen from a balcony ...

Hearing the captain’s 10 am announcement that it was 2 celsius on the deck this morning sent me scrambling for my black woollen hat and knit gloves – and my new three-quarter wool coat Two rounds and I knew that the sweater underneath and the velour scarf was too much and I began to shed layers.

 By the time I came back to the cabin, I was carrying everything, too much heat from the exercise.

In the elevator, I stood next to the captain rubbing into his palms, the hand cleanser that is at every junction on the ship. I wondered if he were just riding the elevator up and down, rubbing his hands, trying to get the message to his passengers that cleanliness is next to godliness, and if not that, at least it is the final word on how to stay away from the noro virus that he warns us is increasing on the ship. “A bit nippy today,” he said, tugging on the short sleeves of the white shirt of his uniform, bringing it down a few inches. “Here, take my gloves,” I said.

He gave me a big hug, gave a hearty laugh and left the elevator at the next floor.

I thought his instructions to us were that we were supposed to avoid contact with each other.

... good bye Kobe, Japan ... as seen from a balcony ...

We invited some friends in for lunch on our balcony.

They declined. It doesn’t get to zero where they live in Australia, and the balcony is cold.  We are having 6 foot high swells and winds up to 40 miles an hour as well, besides the factor of the ship’s speed. Still sounds like fun on the balcony to Canadians – but obviously, not to Byrn and Jean Sands.

Arta