BLOG, THE EIGHTH

November 18, 2018

We went ashore on St. Maarten for a couple of hours today.  My traveling companion was still not up to snuff, but she took an antibiotic pill, in addition to an OTC, and this evening she is doing much better.  We dodged all of the locals trying to sell us tours and taxi rides and give us free jewelry (I did get a free coin in Milano) and went to the Yoda Museum where I did a selfie with the Jedi Master.  Then Mom bought a large stuffed turtle to go with her medium size stuffed turtle who travels with us.  We picked up a couple of souvenirs and then caught the water taxi back to the ship.  A nice outing.

Back on board we found a spot on the Lido Deck and finished a game of rummy.  Yours truly is ahead 3-0 for this cruise, trying to pitch a shut-out.  Speaking of shut-outs, or near shut-outs, How ‘bout dem Steelers?  I look forward to seeing some of those plays on YouTube when we are back at 233.  Anyway, back to the Lido Deck, we each had a salad for lunch and then we settled back and read for about 90 minutes before heading to R15 for a nap.  Bonnie said she didn’t nap and that I snored, but she has no witness and no recorded proof of me making noises in my sleep.

We both had stir fried beef with very overdone broccoli for supper, and it was good in spite of the broccoli.  Tonight’s show was a soul singer we’ve heard before and don’t particularly enjoy, but there was nothing else doing.  She is a fantastic singer, but she spends too much time talking and playing games with the audience.  In 45 minutes she only did 6 songs.  Just sing, girl, and cut out the goofiness.  Oh well, it’s her way.

The people beside of us at supper tonight are from Buchanan, West Virginia (not sure if that is speeled right) but it is reasonably close to 117 Shenandoah Avenue (an hour or two).  She is a dental hygienist, he is a public school math teacher and a lay preacher for the UMC, serving a 4 point charge.  Good conversation (and he got the beef and broccoli, too).

Buchanan was the home of EvanBreth Acres, the summer camp for the Evangelical United Brethren Church, of which the Bro and I were members before the EUBs merged with the Methodists in 1968 to form the Untied Methodist Church (and coming more untied every day).  I went to camp one summer – one summer only, Vasily – and it was the worst week of my entire life in all of my 71 years.  I was miserably home sick and when I called Mom and Dad to come get me, they told me it would only be two more days and I would be home.  Oh the trauma!

And, now it’s back in the room to send you a few notes (do ra me fa so la ti do) before bed time and then ashore in San Juan tomorrow.  I forgot my Roberto Clemente shirt, but we are coming back in January, so I can redeem myself.  Our plans are to walk out to the big fort and just enjoy the stroll.

Well, da zaftra (until tomorrow).

TTFN