Stuff Happens

I dunno what's going on. I'm still not in the mood to dive into hard blogging. So, I thought I'd tell a few stories about what happened on my trip. After two days of driving, I got off the highway near Kewaunee, WI and punched "florist" into my navigator. It took me straight to a florist shop about a mile away. I then headed to the cemetery to place flowers on my mom's grave on what would have been her 76th birthday. It was the first time I saw her headstone and I started crying as soon as I laid eyes on it.

You can read the inscription by clicking on the picture. I put my baby sister in charge of getting a headstone and she designed it herself. It was absolutely perfect. Mom had a hard life. At our little family reunion dinner on the night before I left, we ate our prime rib and lobster and whatever else we desired and talked about how she always managed to put food on the table, even if it was just cereal for dinner. Mashed potatoes and ketchup is one of my childhood comfort foods. I tried my best for the last 15 years of her life to give her everything her heart desired -- or everything I thought her heart desired, since she'd never ask for anything. Oh, and if you're trying to figure out my secret identity, it is not Sukut. She remarried.

While at the cemetery, I spotted another headstone that interested me.

As you can see, Margaret Kubetz preceded her husband into the after life at the age of 60. If we look at the back of the headstone, perhaps we can get a hint as to why.

Once again, click on the image to see the inscription. This tells me one of two things. Either beer isn't all that good for you, or outliving your spouse is the ultimate revenge. If those two are reunited in Heaven, there will be hell to pay. From the cemetery, I went to the Historic Karsten Inn several blocks away. It's my favorite place to stay. You could film a 1930s gangster movie in Kewaunee by just changing the cars on the street. The Karsten is an old three-story brick building about a block from the lake shore. Nothing fancy. But get inside and you are standing in a turn of the century (20th century) lobby that takes you back a hundred years. I brought half a dozen roses for each of the two young ladies who work their butts off running the hotel without any help. You can bet I was treated like royalty during my stay. Not that I asked for much. I'm a pretty good guest. I used the towels that were in the room and put all my trash into one container. I also didn't use the Jacuzzi, so they didn't have to clean that. When I stop for meals during a long drive, I always hit a Cracker Barrel. Good food. As I pulled into one, I saw a retirement home bus parked outside. Always a bad sign. It must be a waitress's worst nightmares to see a tour bus pull up. The elderly (God bless 'em) were just leaving as I entered. Not a single one of them ambulated without the use of a cane, a walker or a wheelchair. An obviously frazzled 40-something waitress took my order and when I said, "Noooo grits," she responded in a split second with "No grits? I'll give you extra." I love funny women. $10 tip for a $6 meal. I always over-tip breakfast waitresses, but this was about double what I usually give. As I was driving from Kewaunee to Springfield (with the top down) I felt a hand go up my right arm and tap me on the shoulder. I almost broke my neck looking in the back seat to see who it was. It was the sleeve of my varsity jacket waving wildly in the wind. Adrenaline is better than power drinks. I wasn't drowsy for the rest of the trip. While in Springfield, I stayed at a Microtel Inn. I love those places. The rates -- and the rooms -- are small. My room was so small that I pretended it was a crewman's quarters on the Starship Enterprise. While there, I had breakfast at an IHop just across the street. I wasn't very hungry, so I ordered from the senior menu. "Small portions for a smaller price." The 20-something waitress informed me that only people 55 and older could order from the senior menu. In my deepest Lone Ranger voice I said, "I'll have you know young lady" (switching to old man's voice) "that I am 57 years old (wheeze)." She asked to see my driver's license! I've never bought alcohol, so this was the first time in my life that I've been carded. $10 tip. Oh, oh. Ginger is informing me that it's bedtime. And this post has gone long enough. Night, night, folks.