Beautiful spouse and I just got back from the tropics.

When driving on a small hilly Caribbean island it's probably best to avoid making too many assumptions. Assumptions like, if you drive all the way across the island in the dark to this year's "happening night spot" (Bamboo Bernie's, Ladies Drink Free) that the ladies might actually drink for free at Bamboo Bernie's. Because they might drink for free at the new spot next door, now called the Kota Bar. Except that they might not actually DRINK for free, they might only stand around Kota bar with drink in hand for free. Because the drink itself, a Mai Tai that tastes like our pediatrician's patented cold mix, goes down REAL SLOW.

Also don't assume that those things you were driving on at 9 pm were actual roads. Because they may be just strategically placed dry riverbeds that only need a "freak storm" to become torrents of flood water. The freak in the storm BTW, is me. Behind the wheel of our small island rental car, the Dihatsu "Gesundheit." This car only looks small on the outside. Once seated you realize it is actually miniature. It's a half-size replica that engineers call a 'concept car." The engineers' concept being: "I wonder if people will believe that this is an actual car."

"I'll bet they'll rent them in the islands."

"Let's try it!"

The Dihatsu would make a fine family car though. Assuming that your family consists of one 4 ft. tall Greek widow, whose husband died in "the war." And that you don't like her all that much.

That afternoon we had offered a ride home from the beach to a nice French-Canadian couple from Key-beck. The nice part was that the addition of another 300 pounds in our back "seat" improved our traction considerably. Suddenly our Dihatsu had what those in the automotive industry call "get up and go." Which turned out to be short for "Get up and go right back down" named for a subtle effect that the 300 pounds of optional Canucks had when driving over island speed bumps. These are sprinkled liberally in unexpected areas, like right in the middle of dry riverbeds.

There were a lot of girls at the Kota Bar. They may have been there for the free drinks. Or for the guys that show up when there are free drinks for the girls. (It's like the chicken and the egg. Yes, the guy is the chicken. I don't know why, that's just the way it is.) But once "we" decided it was time to leave our happening night spot, and were walking toward the parking lot I regretted our decision almost immediately. And not just because the five French girls from the Blue Martini the night before were just showing up.

We continued right past them toward the parking lot. We didn't have to actually enter the parking lot however, because the Dihatsu was parked along the chain link fence in an area reserved for dune buggies and other vehicles with tires the size of a riding mower's back home. Our Dihatsu was not well-equipped for stream crossings. We started out just fine, jumping puddles and negotiating deep spots with skill. But once we actually got into the vehicle and started the engine, things went downhill fast.

And uphill slow.

Turns out that using a lawn mower engine to power an amphibious vehicle doesn't leave a driver many options. One option I did have was to turn up the radio volume, because Radio Transat is a cool station mixing American oldies with French "hits" that never saw the light of day on American shores. At one point Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia" was playing and I turned to beautiful spouse and said, "Hey, that's cool. We're flying back home through Philly!"

Her smile said, "If we make it."

The rain was pretty steady. On the way over we had driven through heavy rain only to discover dry streets on the other side of the island. This gave us hope. We pulled into a closed Shell station, because it was reassuring to see something that looks like a little piece of home with covered pumps to take a break from the relentless rain. Odd debris was flowing by. Wrappers, beer bottles, UFO's (unidentified floating objects). And it was even worse outside the car.

And did I mention that we didn't know where we were?

Spouse was navigating, as is her wont. (My wont is, "Won't admit when he's wrong.") The funny thing is that she is a great navigator. She likes maps and enjoys figuring out how to get places. That is probably why as we pulled onto the main road she had said,"Let's go a new way."

"O.K.," I gamely answered. The game turned out to be "Chutes and Ladders" where you fight your way uphill through a swift flowing stream, circle around a roundabout a couple of times to get your bearings (several had fallen out of the wheels & were lying in the road), and then go right back down to the bottome of the hill again.

"I'm not sure where we are. I think we should go back."

"I think we just did."

"O.K., then let's do it again, but with more water."

Next: Do we make it out with our lives?

Or with someone else's lives? (which actually might be a good thing)

Just enough time for a quick post during morning coffee: helping a friend move today. It's a happy one. He's buying a house with fiance after a 20- year marriage ended (about 4-5 years ago). They're getting married in July.

Then packing for a super-early departure for the Caribbean. I am hoping they have the water warmed up for us.

Our plane leaves OHare at 6:00 a.m. Sunday, so we are planning on being up by 3. I know, I know, we might as well just go out Sat night, then go directly to the airport. Already thought of that, but not everyone agrees.

I am going to point you to a link, and if you click on it then you will meet someone who is making the world a better place.

You will see a photo of two very wonderful young people posing for a picture together. One you might recognize. She is holding a box of chocolate. The other person you will find out about.

Go ahead and click yourself away. If you start listening and watching and you don't even make it back here, well, I guess it's OK just for this once. The link is over in my Links that Work list on the left: Baskets Link

But if you come back then what I would like to say is this:

There are people who make the world a better place, bigger, including more, holding more hope, seeing things differently than most people see them. Two of them are in that picture.

I want to poll the readership on this one, so pay attention, and get ready to give this some careful thought.

(Write all your answers down, or just remember them pretty well, because there is a scoring system at the end)

If you went to an island for a vacation, and you found out that there are two halves to the island, then:

1. Would you favor the quieter side, . . . or the livelier side?

2. the side with foreign food, . . . or the side with American food?

3. a quiet restaurant meal, . . . or a lively casino?

4. miles of beaches with no development, . . . or miles of beaches with developments?

5. low-key, . . . or modern?

6. pommes frites, . . . or KFC?

7. banana rum, . . . or Heineken?

8. sailboats anchored offshore, . . . or cruise ships arrivng in port?

9. a blissful nighttime walk along the beach, . . . or nightclub Bliss, island hot spot?

10. small-scale somewhat-dated resort, . . . or large-scale brand-new time-shares?

11. best food in the Caribbean, . . . or pretty good food (for the Caribbean)?

12. warm sun and 80 degree water, . . . or 80 degree water and warm sun?

HOW TO SCORE YOUR ANSWERS:

For every answer that you picked the left-hand alternative, give yourself 10 points.

For every answer that you picked the right-hand alternative, give yourself 10 points.

How did you do? I got a perfect score!

That's because both alternatives are equally available on the same island, the left-hand alternative being somewhat more representative of the French north half, called St. Martin, while the right-hand choice is more in keeping with the Dutch south half, known as Sint Maarten.

If you want to see which half we like better, click on Grand Case Beach Club, SXM, over there on the left. We're flying Sunday.

I have to admit I am something of a St. Patrick's Day scrooge. I think it has to do with growing up in Chicago. And not being Irish. I am not saying that I dislike Irish people at all, of course. I consider myself as much of a Michael Flatley fan as the next guy. Well, the next non-Irish guy. But a giant celebration of a Catholic saint was not a big part of my childhood. Also I think snakes are sort of cool, so driving them out of Ireland would not have been a big plus to me. (And why is it always called "driving" the snakes out? How would anyone drive snakes anyway? I picture someone beating the ground with sticks like native jungle beaters in India during a royal tiger hunt. But I really do not think St Patrick would have been riding atop an elephant, do you?)

The sum total of our usual St. Patrick's Day celebration is watching a John Wayne movie called the Quiet Man, directed by John Ford. It's sort of a slice-of-life film about the Irish countryside. It's silly, but charming. And John Wayne gives a very good performance. Plus we drink Irish coffees, which are not Irish at all but invented in San Francisco I am told (by a bar in San Francisco, so, really, who knows?)

I imagine that this film has about as much to do with growing up in Ireland as . . . watching a World Series has to do with being a Cubs fan. Not that much. But the film has one of my all-time favorite movie shots of any Hollywood film. It is during the opening five minutes when Ford is introducing Maureen OHara's character, the local beauty that Wayne falls for. First, he shows her from a distance driving a bunch of sheep (not snakes) across a field, then there is a close-up shot of her, the camera below her shooting up with her hair against the sky. Then the camera pulls back and she simply walks out of the frame, but the camera angle produces the image of her descending through the bottom of the screen. It is a wonderful effect, sort of hinting that you have no idea what this girl is capable of. And she is a unique character. I can never figure out why he would fall for her, other than the fact that she is Maureen OHara and in John Ford films John Wayne was always falling for Maureen OHara.

I think yeterday completed the official gazelle-to-wildebeest transition in my running style. I am still running in impressive fashion, but what had been a lilting spring in my step has now become a wilting thing in my step. I think it's in my knees. Maybe my ankles and hips, too. The general leg area seems to be involved. My arms feel fine though, so that is good.

I also found out about the trail that will be used for the Half-Marathon. It is a former rail bed now a gravel trail for biking and hiking and jogging. I was worrying that there might be a subtle grade that would slowly work its magic and produce slow exhausting times. I did some extensive research. Which involved asking my son who used to run out there for high school cross country. No grade. Flat as the proverbial pancake.

Actually I am not sure that there is a proverbial pancake. Anyone know a proverb involving a pancake? When I was little there used to be a story of a little boy who wanted pancake syrup and he was chased by a tiger, round and round a tree until the tiger got so exhausted that he turned into syrup. Or maybe it was into butter. Something good for his pancakes. That was a good story, but I dont think it's really a proverb, and anyway, nobody tells it anymore, because it's not politically correct, because the little boy was African. Even though the tigers are in India, the little boy was African, or African-American, but he wasn't called "Little African-American clever child who outwits a tiger." So nobody can tell the story anymore. And I am stiil looking for an actual proverb that has pancakes it it.

At any rate, the trail is pretty flat. Which, of course, is very bad news. Because as the race date draws near and the training schedule picks up, you just naturally start looking for possible excuses for race day. You don't tell anybody yet of course, you just kind of start stockpiling them for later. Hole in my favorite training sock. Best training shirt fell onto the driveway when nobody was looking and got all dirty. Bad political developments in the Middle East interfered with my concentration. Baseball season off to a slow spring trainng. March Madness approaching. The weather. The lack of weather. Too rainy, not rainy enough. You get the idea. "Trail too steep" is a pretty good excuse. It's the type that nobody can argue with unless they've actually run the trail. "Frickin' mountains on that trail!" See that's hard to argue with. Now technically if it's less than a 2% grade it really should be called a hill. But nobody gets that technical when you're being hospitalized. You just need something to mumble to the EMTs when they get there with the stretcher on wheels.

Speaking of wildebeest transitions, if commitment is such a good thing, why is it that no body ever commits anything good. Everybody always commits something bad. You commit suicide. You commit heinous crimes. You commit hara-kari (he used to announce the Cubs games). You don't commit love. You don't commit charity. You don't commit faith. Or hope either.

So I'm not that sure commitment is such a good thining after all.

"Lost faith in the commitment to train." Now that's a good one. I'm going to write that one down.

Every March we have a big-deal convention at a large hotel. So I have been away from my usual routine. Hence the mysterious lack of any news and comment from Gord-Land. I tried to get my second DIY post up and running (see below) from the hotel, but I had trouble logging on, so I had to post it last night. Kind of defeated the purpose of having it ready to go.

When we walked out of the hotel Saturday morning, all of a sudden Spring is here! I arrived on Wednesday in winter, but I left on Saturday in Spring. Then last night we had to put the clocks ahead. Or actually this morning. I don't imagine anyone actually sets an alarm to get up in the night and change he clock.

Or do they?

Are they the same people who leave the tags on their furniture and mattresses?

And go through the open road toll lane at 5 mph? I live in fear of that, because i am moving with traffic and going through those things anywhere from 25 to 45 mph. But I always look at the little sign that usually says either 15 mph or 5 mph. Eventually someone is going to be going through the thing just fine, see the sign, slam the brakes on, and cause a huge accident behind them.

The hotel. Their regular coffeeshop type restaurant where you would stop for breakfast was closed for renovation. They only had the restaurant on the top floor open. That meant we had to order room service breakfast. Great prices. Pot of coffee for two people was $10.95. It was good coffee though. Coffee plus two Belgian waffles, plus the service charge and ERT (enormous ridiculous tax) came to almost $45 for breakfast. (I know, I was afraid that they would charge Euros, too. Cause, you know, those waffles are Belgian.) Expense accounts just means that when you get totaly ripped off that you don't care enough to complain.

Anyway I am planning on going around reading everyone today or tomorrow. So, if you all of a sudden start seeing numbered comments all over the place . . . well, you have been warned.

The following entry is actually just a continuation of the previous entry, which ended on Number 5. This therefore will begin on Number 6, so everyone can follow along easily. (Even a Do It Yourselfer.)

6. Putting a bar and pool table in the basement. Along with a dartboard.

Are you nuts? Do you really think that maturing boys need a bar? And a pool hall? Right in their own house? Why not put in a magazine stand too, and be done with it? And you can save a lot of trouble with that dartboard. Just give out hammers to take down the drywall panels quickly and easily. It’s a lot faster than darts and produces a crisper look than the 10,000 mini-holes.

7. Installing a water softener.

This is a TOTAL ploy by the industry. Water softeners were invented by salt salesmen, way back in the old days when they used to bring salt around to the houses. The salt salesmen used to envy the ice delivery guys and the milkmen, because they could deliver practically every day, whereas the doctors (who had wised up and stopped making house calls themselves) began warning everyone to cut back on salt. Do you really think that there is any way to make water any softer? Have you noticed it’s pretty soft to begin with? That’s why diving boards almost always use it to cushion the fall. Ever see Olympic divers checking the water to see if it’s soft enough? Didn’t think so. They just dive right in.

There is a sinister plot at work here. Other sales professionals actually use water softener sales figures to gauge how gullible the neighborhood is. Then they can decide if it’s worth it to send in the salesman for frozen meat products sold out of the back of trucks. In my neighborhood we are way too smart to fall for those. (However, Latvian summer-help selling educational materials proves remarkably successful. So go figure.)

8. Buying power tools.

Power tools are a necessity for any self-respecting DIY’er. But, (Duh!) you’re supposed to borrow them from your neighbors! If you’re a skilled DIY’er you’ll just take an extension cord with you when you go to borrow, plug it into their garage, and blow out their circuit breakers. It’s much safer, because obviously THEY must have the capacity for the amperage required, or they wouldn’t be buying the tools in the first place.

9. Borrowing inferior tools.

The best neighbor to borrow tools from is the guy with the bright fire-engine-red steel tool cabinets in his garage. Those tools will be all shiny, and the blades are still sharp. (On the other hand, the best neighbor to return them to is the guy whose garage door doesn’t close all the way. Then if there is any “wear and tear” the tool-box neighbor will blame the garage-door neighbor instead of you.) The second best neighbor to borrow from is “Good old Fred.” Every neighborhood has one. He has great tools, sometimes better ones than the tool-box guy, but the problem is that his tools are hanging on pegboard sheets all over his garage walls, so he’ll be able to tell that one’s missing right away. Plus, he talks your ear off. If you think your neighborhood doesn’t have a “Good old Fred,” guess what? That’s right, my friend, YOU’RE good old Fred.

10. And the top DIY mistake of all time is . . . (you will notice the distinct lack of a drumroll here . . . because Fred borrowed back his drumroller . . .) thinking that any stupid list on the Internet is going to be able to tell you the top mistakes to avoid, because you might as well admit right now that the next project you think up will be YOUR biggest mistake ever.

I recently read a brief report on the mistakes that Do It Yourself home repair guys make. The writers thought they had the top ten! Hah! NOT EVEN CLOSE! They were nowhere near even the top million or so. Which of course means that I will have to provide the ACTUAL top mistakes. See below:

1. Buying a house in the first place.

My latest idea is that I think we could all just live in shipping containers. Sure they’re square and ugly, but have you seen the typical new development? Miles of winding streets wide enough for a semi at rush hour, but not a tree over 8 feet tall? Shipping containers are those enormous steel rectangles that can be loaded onto a train or stacked in the hold of a cargo ship to be sent all over the world. Your house IS your camper! Just punch a couple of window holes into one of those giant rectangles and you’ve got a house that 99% of humanity would envy.

2. Putting in bathrooms.

They’re ugly, troublesome, and growing larger each year. Bathrooms are now larger than kitchens were when I was a kid. Pretty soon whole houses will just be bathrooms. You’ll just walk in the entryway and instead of a sweeping staircase leading the eye upward, there will be a huge walk-in tub with 47 shower nozzles, each one delivering exactly no water. (Showers didn’t used to need 47 nozzles. There was just one. But it had water coming out of it. Those wasted a lot of energy.) If you are wondering what to do about the bathroom problem, they pretty much had the right idea back in Abe Lincoln’s times. Throw an outhouse in the backyard. If it’s good enough for our greatest American it should be good enough for the rest of us.

3. Having children.

Children create what those in the industry call “wear and tear.” (If you are pronouncing that second word so it rhymes with “where,” then you’re making the same mistake that I used to make. Actually, it rhymes with “we’re,” as in, ”We’re crazy to even think about having kids.”) A good example of wear and tear is the hole in one upstairs bedroom door at my house. It was caused by violently banging the door with an object that is harder than door veneer. Think that was a moment of Rhett-Butler-like passion? Well, not quite. That hole was caused by a teen-aged outburst of angst (like our own little Civil War reenactment, it pitted brother against brother). Said angst is now frozen in time like a museum diorama of the pain and suffering of raising three boys in the same house. At the same time. While the parents are foolish enough to live there with them. Why not fix the door, you say? Thanks for asking, that brings us to the next item.

4. Believing that you should fix anything.

Because when it comes right down to it, you might as well just replace it. After all, you hate the doors anyway, so why would you go to the trouble of fixing one of them. You might as well just take the door off its hinges, go to the door store, and get a new one. Of course, then the door wouldn’t match the rest of the doors that open onto the upstairs hall. There are six of them, four bedrooms, a bath, (sorry, Abe), and a linen closet. (Which, of course, holds not a stitch of linen. Why not be honest and call it a terry-cloth closet?) Now, who is going to replace five perfectly good doors, along with their hinges and assorted door hardware just because the sixth one has a hole?

5. Moving to a golf course community instead of a Home Depot community.

See, in the town where we live there are these golf course communities. All these large-scale, luxury, two-story homes surround an extensive and luxurious golf course, so that all you have to do is step right out your back door and you’re on the links. I am not personally a golfer (though I do enjoy a good pork sausage), but I know a few people over in the golf course communities. Some of them even protested when a large orange Home Depot was going in right on the edge of their golf course community. It was visible across their links. Protesting a Home Depot? Bad move! I think the company actually made it taller. And they would have made it oranger, if their attorneys hadn’t blocked their attempt by pointing out that oranger is not actually a word. My idea was just to replace the golf course with a Home Depot. Why not circle the homes around that bright orange monstrosity in the first place? You know you’re going to be spending your weekends over there anyway. If you really can’t give up the dream entirely, go ahead and put a small putting green out in the parking lot. The store can use it as a display for the new style Astroturf, which is now available in Aisle 86.

Next: the next ones

Obviously shirking my duties of giving everyone a heads-up for moon phases I hope you all noticed the FULL MOON WITH TOTAL LUNAR ECLIPSE that just occurred. If you missed it there’s another in August this year. I should have been all over this several days ago, but it’s been so cloudy that I didn’t really think anyone would be seeing the moon anyway, at not least around here. Then I was driving this evening and THERE IT WAS! Right up there in the sky, in the east right where it belongs.

It's the Worm Moon, by the way, which means it's supposed to be warm enough to get some rain, and the earthworms come out to play on the wet grass, on paved surfaces, anywhere it's nice and wet and they can slip around and find each other.