Mexican Tales – More Stories, Observances, and Outings

Welcome back to more Mexican Tales from my winter vacation in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. As I’ve shared in earlier posts, I have quite a few wonderful friends in PV, and I had numerous outings with all of them – some group outings and some with smaller crowds. I love that I introduced all the friends I made to each other and we became a group of friends.

I did a few shopping trips with the girls. Usually, other than Mexican artifacts, beach coverups, and silver jewellry stores, and tequila, of course, there isn’t much to shop for there. I was never one to do any real clothes shopping while there. But last year I discovered a wonderful island cotton store, and then Patty introduced me to another she’d found. All the clothing is made in Mexico, and there’s an array of styles and colors from pants to tops to dresses and more. I happen to love real cotton, and it seems harder and harder to find here at home, and more expensive. Not to mention, the price of island cotton if bought in the islands, can be quite expensive. But we found some great and reasonable stores.

One day, Lucie and I went downtown to shop at Maria of Guadalajara’s cotton store. We both bought the same dress (in different colors) and Lucie did some power shopping. Another time, Shelley and I went down there and decided to walk all the way downtown and grab some dinner. On our way we discovered another cotton store that caught both of our eyes. Luisa’s was a smaller store, but packed with beautiful things. And the best part was if she didn’t have your size, she’d have one for you in a few days. Needless to say, I went to Luisa’s a few times, and the other girls were probably there more than me, for other orders and a few alterations. Yes! No charge for the alterations, and seamstress on site while you wait. Let’s just say, my summer wardrobe is topped up.


After cotton shopping, Pat, Shelley, me and Lucie walked up to one of our favorite pitstops, El Patron, a great stop for before or after shopping. You have to walk up a lot of narrow stairs, but you can’t beat the view and the breeze in this section. And the Margs are always good there. It was about 2pm and we were surprisingly, the only ones there. It’s always busy later, especially at sunset.

The first weekend I arrived, it was the last NFL playoff game of the season before the Superbowl. Brenda and Saul had a nice big 2 bedroom condo on the ground floor with a comfy patio and a small backyard. Everyone’s internet and cable seemed different. Some people could only get the game in Spanish. Some like me didn’t have any cable, but with my VPN I could watch most anything on my laptop. Saul had the game on his huge TV but only in Spanish. I brought my laptop and we used the sound from my computer. It worked. Oh, and we also had many drinks. I think that was when I took a break from Margs to Bloody Caesars. Shelley and John came over and we had a ton of fun. We of course, repeated the even two weeks later for Superbowl.

Me with Brenda and Shelley

The clan came out for a sun break. It didn’t last long because it was hottt!!! But we were always laughing.

Valentine’s Day came while my girlfriend Alyson was down visiting me. We spent a lot of time gabbing with Brenda. The three of us decided to go downtown the day before Valentine’s Day, before it was over-crowded and over-priced, and make that ‘Galentine’s Day’. We laughed a lot. As usual, we began at a bar and we walked much further downtown and had dinner in a little charming Mexican place Brenda had suggested. The place was tiny, on the second floor of crickety stairs; the drinks were cheap and the balcony view was fun. After, we walked back to the top of the boardwalk and grabbed a cab back. We’d left around 3pm and it was 945pm when simultaneously, the taxi was pulling into our complex, and Saul texted me asking if we’re okay because he’s worried about us not being home yet. “Brenda isn’t used to staying out that late,” Saul texted me. I showed Bren the text and we burst out laughing. Of course Brenda asked him if she had a curfew. The jokes about that one went on for awhile. Saul is a sweetie and a good sport.


Brenda, Alyson and me at first bar pitstop, La Terraza di Roma


Brenda gave me a plastic flower on Valentines Day. There was a little cub below the flower.

One late afternoon, Lucie and I headed downtown to Luisa’s to pick up some things we’d asked her to order for us. Then we walked downtown to one of my favorite restaurants, La Dolce Vita down in the Romantic Zone. We finished our delicious drinks and meals after getting there early enough to get a good table outside without a reservation. It was only after 7pm and still early, so we crossed the street to go for a drink or two at the Margarita Grill – a popular outdoor bar downtown. We were surprised it wasn’t crazy packed, but not surprised being near end of March and many tourists had left. We decided to sit at the bar instead of a table. We ordered the ‘small’ chalice sized Marg and Daquiri. We had the sweetest young bartender who graciously offered to take a selfie of the three of us (and my shopping bag from Luisa’s). The house band is really good there, especially when they play oldies hits of some of the best bands.


We laughed there for hours. We met some interesting people as the bar filled up. We talked to a few people, drank, and sang to the band. It was getting loud in there – even though the place is open air. A new young French/Canadian couple sat down beside Lucie. The band played ‘Take on Me’ by Aha. Lucie and I were singing along, pretty loud, when the guy beside her got up and switched seats with his wife. Luce and I burst out laughing. She asked the guy if her singing chased him away and he said his wife was singing too in his other ear so he thought it best if she sat beside us. LOL.


The Sunday before I returned home, Shelley and I spent the day and most of the evening together. She came over to my pool then we got changed and went back downtown. We thought we may pop our heads into the cotton store again then go for dinner. When we got downtown it wasn’t so busy, especially for a Mexican long weekend. We also noticed none of our favorite stores were open. That was fine. We’d already done enough damage, lol. So we walked down to the Dolce Vita and sat in the bar with the open patio doors and had a few drinks. Had we known how crazy downtown traffic got and that the restaurant we specifically wanted to eat dinner at, was also closed, we wouldn’t have gone that day. We decided to keep walking down the main beach street and ended up where Brenda, me and Alyson ate on Galentine’s Day. We had another drink and Mexican food. After we finished we walked up the mid of the malecon to grab a cab, when we saw so much traffic and cabs weren’t stopping – or moving. This I’d never experienced. Sunday night around 730pm. The main drag that runs parallel in front of the malecon/boardwalk and ocean is a one way south street. You’d have to go over a block to catch the northbound street. I told Shel we’ll walk over to the next one since we’re going north anyway. It was gridlock! WTH? We couldn’t figure out why the streets were jammed, blocked off, and a parade coming down could be heard. It was exceedingly hot that particular day, and still at 730pm. Shelley was sweating up a storm. I told her we’ll take our time but we had to just keep walking till we got out of the Malecon zones. Along the way I must have approached seven cabs, stuck in gridlock, not even taking passengers. We kept walking, and about half hour later of walking north, we FINALLY got a cab when we were literally a twenty minute more walk to home if we’d kept walking. That journey that’s usually a ten minute cab ride took us over two hours to get back. It was a Sunday night on President’s Day long weekend. Who knew?


I’d be remiss if I left out my venture back to my wonderful Mexican denist duo, mom and daughter Lourdes and Lourdes Flores. For those who didn’t read last year’s adventure, my friends Jerry and Wendy (who weren’t in PV this vacation) recommended their dentist to me. I went for a cleaning last year and paid $40 Canadian dollars for the best cleaning I ever had, instead of the $280 I pay at home. I’d also had a nightguard made for $90 CAD dollars, which was way better than the $500 one I have from my dentist at home. And I’d made instant friends with mamma and daughter. Mamma is the dentist and daughter is the surgeon.

This year I went back for another great cleaning, plus I wanted advice about my bite that seemed to shift. We had a fun half hour visit with the three of us before I even sat in the chair. Daughter said she wanted xray to see what was going on below the gumline. These were special xrays that weren’t done in her office. She gave me a slip of paper to take over to the xray building, which was a five minute walk down the street. I was taken within five minutes of arriving and taken in a room with high-tech gadgetry. Five minutes after I finished, they handed me a large manilla envelope with the xray film to take home to my dentist, and told me they’d send one to my dentist duo. The cost? Fifteen little Canadian dollars (equivalent to pesos). I also ordered another new nightguard for my bottom teeth while I was there. When I went back to pick it up three days later, daughter looked at the xrays and reminded me how important it is I wear it at night and gave me a prescription for some fancy toothpaste and mouthwash, made in Spain, to use for my gums. Both coming in at the hefty price of $25 CAD for a tube of toothpaste and $30 for a small bottle of mouthwash. When I saw the prices I decided not to stock up. I bought one of each. Once again I didn’t get to go for a drink with those women because they were taking vacays soon after – mamma was going home to visit back to her second home in Vancouver, Canada, and daughter to her other home in Guadalajara.



The Marina area is a five minute cab ride north of where I stayed. Every Thursday night there is a big market there set up along the Marina, about a mile long. Restaurants and bars are very busy by 7pm those nights, and the sidewalks are crowded. For me, once a vacation is enough to visit that market. I went with Patty and Jamie, who invited a few more of their friends, and Shelley, John and Brenda. We ate early to avoid the big crowds, at Route 66, usually a good burger and Marg place, but it was a bad night in the kitchen as all orders were mixed up. The Marina has some great restaurants, but much quieter when not on a Thursday Market night. I went back another night with Alyson, Brenda and Saul and their daughter and son-in-law who’d come to visit for a week. We went to Bacha’s, Mexican Seafood. As usual we had lots of laughs and I snapped a very short video there so I can give you a glimpse of part of the Marina, the noisy restaurant, and the musicians who travel around to your tables.

Shelley, John, Brenda, me, the others at another table at Route 66


Here’s a few seconds of video of Bacha’s at the Marina with Alyson, Brenda, and her family.

I hope you enjoyed snippets of my Mexican tales and outings. Next episode I’ll share my day at La Cruz Sunday Market and Punta Mita in part 2 after last year’s visit there with the same crew, Jamie, Patty, Shelley, John, and this year Lucie joined us.


My Book Review – Have Bags, Will Travel by D.G. Kaye | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

My Book Review – Have Bags, Will Travel by D.G. Kaye

By Sally G. Cronin


I was thrilled to receive this wonderful review from the talented Sally Cronin!




There was a time when it felt that I spent more time in airports than at home. Travelling used to be very much more relaxed and I find myself these days fretting beforehand. It used to be that you chucked all your makeup and items you might need if your suitcase when missing into your carry on, but now even that is heavily censored. There is nothing sadder than desperately measuring 100mls of essential face de-wrinkler into a little plastic bottle and then into a ziplock plastic bag.  Then having to explain what it is to a stone faced inquisitor (just doing their job.. I know and appreciate why.)”


My Review for Have Bags, Will Travel.. Five perfectly packed suitcases.


“This is a not a long book but you will find D.G. Kaye packed it the same way that she does her suitcases when on one of her frequent trips. Overflowing with hilarious encounters with custom officers and bemused check-in agents, crammed with memories of travelling companions and skillfully closed with an in-depth look at one of her favourite destinations; Las Vegas.

International travel is no longer straightforward; so a little humour goes a very long way. D.G. Kaye relives those halcyon days when passengers were welcomed with open arms, allowed some leeway on number of bags and their weight instead of being herded through various lines to be interrogated. But if you are going to travel, then take advice from an expert; relieve some of the stress. . .” CONTINUE READING 


Source: My Book Review – Have Bags, Will Travel by D.G. Kaye | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life 





I was pleasantly surprised when I visited author Carol Balawyder’s blog to get my weekly dose of reading, when I found that she had read, reviewed and featured my latest book, Have Bags, Will Travel, on her blog. Needless to say, I was elated that she not only posted about my book, but that she enjoyed it and took the time to share it on her page.

Thank you Carol!

Have Bags amazon image


“D.G. Kaye’s recent memoir Have Bags, Will Travel reminded me how much I’d neglected the travel section of my blog.

Be prepared to have your heart chuckling and your lips smiling as you read through D.G. Kaye’s amusing travel adventures. Although the main theme of the book is on her affection for shopping it’s also a memoir like no other as she holds your hand and guides you  through her unforgettable trips to Paris, London, Greece, Venezuela and Vegas.  You meet her friends who are almost as zany as she is and she ponders on the good old days of travelling and her sadness to see the old charm of her beloved Vegas fade away.” . . . Read more on Carol’s blog

Source: HAVE BAGS WILL TRAVEL | Carol Balawyder

A Penny’s Worth

My two cents

Things that make me go hmmm?


While strolling the Miracle Mile Mall underneath the hotel I stayed at in Las Vegas, Planet Hollywood, I passed a little kiosk which sold little charms and baubles. My eye caught a silver bracelet, which had engraved in it, Live Laugh Love. Being that the saying is part of my mantra and website header, I had to have it.

When I went to pay the petite blond woman, with the thick Slavic accent, she quoted me the price. The dollar value was irrelevant, but the cents came to sixty-two.

I scrambled in my wallet for the two pennies, and found one. I asked her if that was good enough and she sternly said, “No, it’s two cents.” I chuckled at her and asked her if she was serious.

I also wondered if she was going to let go of a nice sale for a lousy penny. And then I said to her, “In my country, Canada, we don’t even use pennies anymore; we round off to the nearest nickel.”

The woman replied, “Well, this is America. Our pennies are still worth money.” I found her tone and lecture to be quite aggressive and unfriendly. If I didn’t love everything that bracelet signified to me, I’d have left it there.

Now, I know things aren’t as cheap in the States as they once were. And I know you can’t really buy anything for a dollar there either; just as in Canada. So I found her defense for her ‘not natural born American attitude’ a bit over the top.

Still, I suppose she had the right to state her opinion about a country that gave her citizenship. But in this day and age to make a big deal over a penny seems so insignificant.

I found another penny at the bottom of my purse. She got her two cents from me.

DGKaye  ©July 2015

Leaving Las Vegas

nevada-932708_640 (2)

It is always nice to go on vacation and always good to come home. In case some of you hadn’t noticed, it has been kind of quiet here on my site and my social media this week while I was on vacay.

I took a little break just before getting things ready to publish my book, Conflicted Hearts, with my galpal, Cindy. We jaunted off to Vegas for four days.  The two redheads went to paint the town ‘red’ and shop ’til we drop, and we did just that.DSC01866

Our venture began very early Tuesday morning to catch our flight. The usually quite comfortable WestJet seats had somehow became like sitting in a sardine can. This was an unpleasant and uncomfortable surprise to me, being that I had just flown WestJet only a few months ago and many times before and I always applauded them for being a comfortable flight.

Cindy nor I are big people and we both have short legs and trying to cross them was a feat in itself.  We couldn’t even slide into our seats without pivoting around on one leg to plop into our seat.

The unusually extra long flight (due to no tail winds) only fuelled my claustrophobia as we both complained to one other most of the way there, as though it was going to change anything……not, but it felt better if we could bitch about it. We did laugh though and reminisced about the days when travelling was fun.

In those days past, they didn’t fit as many seats as they could on the plane so humans actually had leg room (we pitied those who were taller than us…..that would be anyone taller than five foot three), food was real and included in the price, drinks were free, there was more than one washroom on each end and you didn’t have to undress publicly to get through security and get a dose of radiation in the process. I beefed about tossing your water at security so you can re-purchase more only feet away from security for just four dollars more.

Yes, we were flying to sunny Las Vegas where the temps had been rising to close to 80 degrees daily….until we got there, it was around 50 degrees. As we shivered getting into the limo we looked on the bright side and decided it was still warmer than where we were coming from, leaving our early winter behind.

Gambling was not a friend to me as I donated to the casinos and pointed to a chandelier to Cindy and told her it was mine because I thought I had helped pay for it. We ate at some fine restaurants and put a lot of miles on our feet, which never seemed to stop hurting no matter how many shoes we brought or bought. But that didn’t deter us from spending almost a whole day at the mall, walking, shopping and carrying the many bags that crooked our necks and shoulders. Sometimes a girl has to sacrifice to get some power shopping done.

Sleeping had become a lost luxury as we hit the sheets long after midnight and found ourselves waking at 5am, lucky if it was 7am. Neither of us are drinkers but I decided one night at dinner that we should have a martini…..just because. They were so yummy that we had another. I will only say that these were VEGAS SIZED drinks.DSC01878

As we happily jaunted over to the casino after our late dinner, I decided that I should have just one more martini. I felt fine….real fine. A few hours later, after my nightly donation to the slot machines, I decided to call it a night and left Cindy, who never seemed to have a problem lasting hours on twenty dollars at a machine, where my twenties lasted about three minutes.

I walked the long, what seemed like half mile walk back to our room, seemingly fine and glad I was numb to the pain in my high heeled feet. I got into the room….and suddenly it hit me. Boom! The room started spinning and I instantly passed out flat, half on Cindy’s bed and the rest of me hanging off the chaise at the end of the bed. This scene was not unlike a Roadrunner cartoon when something hits him and he lays flattened.

When Cindy finally came up and saw me posed, sprawled out like a rag doll, fully clothed, she got concerned. She shook me and I raised my head in a spinning stupor and somehow managed to make a run for the porcelain. It was a rough night for me and an even rougher, next, long day. That was the beginning and end of my drinking binge.

Yup, three drinks and I was down for the count. Note to myself……I am not twenty-five anymore. Well we laughed a lot about it after and I was grateful she didn’t have her ever trusty camera on hand to catch that Kodak moment.

Alas, our time in Vegas was coming to an end. It was time to pack and get creative about fitting our new purchases in our bags and not being overweight in luggage fees. Happily I got my bag weighed in at only one pound under the fifty pound allowance…….yes, I know it was only four days!

It was time to wheel our luggage, bags and purses through the long, long corridor to the elevators then through the half mile long casino to the front lobby to our awaiting limo to go to the airport to catch our delayed flight back to Toronto. It was beautiful weather, hot in the mid seventies. Of course it was, we were leaving.

We got on the plane finally and found that there was no cabin space for my overstuffed heavy carryon bag.  When I spotted an available spot two rows down from us I tried with all my might to lift that bag in the air into that cabin to no avail. Finally a kind man in row 8 (who I later named him Row 8), offered assistance and got it up for me.  After Cindy and I sat down in our tiny crawlspace and I turned back to the helpful man and said, “Hi man in row 8, would you please be kind enough to get my bag back down when we land?” He kindly offered to do so and Cindy and I laughed and reminisced over the days we just spent together and some of the characters we met along the way, then we happily ate our left over dinners from Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant the night before.

Cindy and I share the same passion for Vegas.  We have both been there many, many times and we often reminisce together about ‘the old’ days of Vegas, when Vegas was Vegas.  As we took off in flight and rose over the beautiful Sierra mountains and the Grand Canyon, we chatted about the next time we will be back there. When we landed “Man in Row 8” kindly took my bag down and handed it to me.  As we walked on the long, long walk to customs with our bags in tow we approached the escalator down which was broken. With my purse weighing at least twenty pounds and my carryon not far from thirty-five pounds, I could barely make it down the escalator when lo and behold behind me approached, Man in Row 8. He once again kindly offered to tote my bag down the non functioning escalator. As we sailed through customs and got our bags we were on our way back home. Note to myself…..Upgrade seats to Florida for winter vacation!


My Three Day Vacation…Or Was It?


Every year at this time, my husband and I go south of the border for three days for a little Christmas shopping and some casino fun.  This time it was a little different, as we seemed to have an extra passenger with us; an unwelcomed passenger, in fact this little guy had been hanging around me for well over two weeks now.  I’ve given him a name over the years, as he always shows up at the most inopportune times.  Nobody can see him, as he is not human.  But, nonetheless, I know very well when he is around.  His name is ‘Murphy’, in fact, only me and my best friend Zan are aware of his presence and we named him together.

Why Murphy?  As in……’Murphy’s law’… know….. whatever can go wrong, will go wrong?  Yup, that’s him.  Murphy has taken quite a shining to me lately and I can’t seem to shake him.  Now I’m a girl who loves a good challenge, but this guy has been wearing me thin for weeks now.  When Murphy’s around, things break, communications get complicated, my computer gets possessed, things get lost.  There are delays and obstacles in everything I do it seems.  So just to give you a sampling, I’m going to share my mini holiday here.

While I looked forward to my little escape, I was apprehensive about leaving my work behind as my little world had become, just that, for many months, writing and working on my upcoming book, Conflicted Hearts.  So I took my laptop with me so I could stay in the loop.

autumnThe weather was gorgeous, beautiful autumn temperatures at 68 degrees and the beautiful red leaves in full colour.  After a day of power shopping, my legs didn’t seem to have the same stamina of yesteryear.  My legs were aching and comfortable shoes, were no longer.  Of course that didn’t stop me from fulfilling my addiction for high-heeled shoes and boots.

After dinner and an unsuccessful attempt to win any money, I went up to my room, turned on my computer and felt back in my element when I was connected back into cyber world.  It was all in all a good day, considering the bumpy two weeks at home that I seemed to be fighting Murphy off at every turn.  As I turned in for the night, I assured myself that things were looking up and Murphy had not followed me to the U.S.A.

The next day I woke up and when I got out of bed, my legs felt as though they had trudged 100 miles and didn’t want to move as fast as my brain wanted them to.  My husband went down to bring me up a Tim Horton’s coffee, black, so that I could eat my usual travel breakfast in my room.  Because I am gluten and dairy-free, it makes things a bit challenging to eat breakfast out, so I always bring along some gluten-free muffins, almond butter (for protein) and soy creamer for my coffee because I don’t like it black.  As I anxiously awaited the arrival of my coffee, I dragged my slow azz over to the mini fridge to take out my food.  Usually those little fridges never really get things very cold.  My husband returned with the coffee and I eagerly went to pour in the cream which wouldn’t pour because it had froze, along with my baseball-like muffin and block of almond butter.  Oh ya, I got that old familiar feeling that my buddy Murphy hadn’t gone too far.  As always, I needed to overcome his antics and find a solution to my frozen breakfast.

It was a lovely sunny day and the warmth of the sun had heated the room considerably.  I placed the muffin and almond butter on the window sill to try and thaw them, even a tad.  As I smelled my delicious coffee aroma, I was determined to find a way to get me some cream.  Light bulb idea.  I took my cream into the bathroom, placed a Kleenex over the spout to filter it as I blasted the blowdryer on high for a good ten minutes directly on the spout.  Oh ya, that’s right!  Nobody was going to come between me and my morning coffee.  I finally got to drink my cream laden coffee and I ate my semi-frozen muffin with some almost thawed almond butter and got ready for another shopping venture.  I had made a list of things to get for gifts and that day wasn’t too successful as it seemed as though anything I was after was either sold out, out of the size I needed or okay, whatever.

After a long day of shopping, I was now in my stocking feet because my feet were killing me.  While puttering around my room, I was wishing that out of the three pair of shoes I brought and the five new pair of shoes and boots I bought, I could find something that didn’t hurt while I wore them.  But no such luck.  So I forced myself to walk down to the casino at a senior pace and play some slots before dinner.  No luck.  After dinner, I decided that I didn’t want to go back to the casino, I would just go back to my laptop and catch up in my world and watch the Thursday night NFL game.  When I washed my face and got into my night shirt, I propped up some pillows, some for my head and two for my legs to elevate, I got out my laptop…….and it wouldn’t turn on.  I tried all my usual arsenal of tricks for this sometimes recurring incident that Dell insisted was fixed.  Again……not happening.  I resolved myself to just take the day off from cyber world and watch the football game.  As I flicked through the channels, I found, college football, baseball, tennis…..But No NFL.  Par for the course, I thought.  At least I found my Grey’s Anatomy and after that I passed out anyway.

The next day we headed home with all my shopping bags and weary bones in tow.  When I arrived home, I was eager to get on the computer and catch up on the 176 emails I had piling up in my account.  I sat myself down and opened my laptop, only to discover, it still wouldn’t turn on. I gasped.  I knew what was to follow and I didn’t want to go through the drill but I had no choice but to call Dell support.  I knew from the many calls in the past that this call was going to cut into my evening work time…..three hours worth!  While the tech did all the hocus pocus on my computer to no avail, I was flustered and counting down the passing hours that I would once again have to make up after.  They told me it was the LCD on my screen that needed replacing.  As I felt displeasure at the deduction, I made it clear that I’ve had so many issues that never seem to be resolved regarding this, and that I was a writer who had no time for this or to be sending out my laptop yet again, especially while I was on a deadline for my editor.  As she empathized with me she offered to send a tech to me later next week and in the meantime offered to assist me in connecting my old desktop computer’s monitor to my laptop.  I sighed heavily as I knew what that was going to entail.  She guided me through disconnecting it from my dinosaur desktop.  This procedure involved me moving furniture to get access to the back of the desk, leaving me a tiny crawl space and sorting through what seemed 150 wire connections all tangled up.  Finally I connected the two and voila, I had a screen.  After getting off the phone three hours later,  I proceeded to the basement to look for an extension cord.  That monitor from upstairs had to be taken downstairs to the family room where all my work was scattered all over the room in piles.  So I got an extension and went to the family room, I had to move the couch and the carpet to get behind to the plug.  My husband carried down the heavy monitor and placed it on the coffee table, perfectly blocking the view of the television and I went to connect it, except the cord I had found didn’t have a three-prong hole.  Duh, ya, perhaps I should have looked at the plug’s connection first.  By this time I was ranting with expressed volume as I used some ‘choice’ words.  My husband offered to bring in his industrial extension cord from the garage.  I was hesitant as I was afraid it may have had too much power and may have blown out the power in the computer, but at that point, I threw my hands up in surrender.  He brought in the dirty cord, which I wasn’t about to start cleaning, nor did I want it laying on my carpet.  So I plugged it into, yes, the hallway leading to the family room and let it lay across the tiles, coiled looking like an industrial site with the added cyclonic effect of papers all over the floor.  Now into the fourth hour, I began working.  It was weird and uncomfortable, as I typed on my laptop with the top half closed over the keyboard so I could see the too far away monitor with my not so great vision, but I plowed on through my emails and my follow-up comments to my wonderful blogging followers.

It was about midnight while I was surfing around when I noticed that my laptop had miraculously been showing what I was also seeing in front on the big monitor.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Once again, my possessed computer had shown new life.  What happened to the ‘LCD is gone’?  Why did I go through all this?  Was this yet another temporary appearance of my screen?  Should I cancel the tech service call to replace it?  Did Murphy leave, or is he playing games?

I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I do know the clock is ticking and I have to get back to revisions!