New Friends and a New Life

 I'm home. I've been home since the 14th. Being home is nice and a little scary. 

Janet picked me up and brought me home on Sunday, Dec 14th. Before leaving the hospital though, I got a fancy new boot and a cane to help me around in my house. 

Meet Harvey the Cane and Klause the Boot. Yes, I named them. I can't help myself. 

The boot is a "wedge" boot which has nothing under the toes. The wedge is in the back to keep all the pressure off the toes. It's been a challenge learning how to walk on it. But if learning to walk on it meant I can go home, then I'm all for it.

The cane and boot came with a PT specialist in the hospital who taught me how to walk on them and especially how to go up and down stairs. Who knew there was a right and wrong way to do that? 

I was still a little unsteady on them when I left the hospital and was sure glad to have Harvey around once I got home. 

The cat greeted me at the door then promptly ignored me for about an hour. I'm not sure he was sure I was sticking around. The poor guy had to spend a week alone with only Sherrie stopping by to feed and hug on him. Eventually he ended up in my lap as if life was back to normal. It wasn't yet, but we were on our way. 

I went right back to work on Monday. Happy for the distraction. Work peeps were amazing. The PMs picked up anything I had left, and took on all the new stuff. The boss was super understanding and willing to help me out where I needed it. They sent me some beautiful flowers while in the hospital too. It was unexpected and so very welcoming. I needed a little color in the dull hospital room. 

I have a Home Health Nurse coming in twice a week to take my INR (blood thinner number) and clean my wound. We're down to cleaning it every other day. For the days the nurse isn't here, Sherrie has stepped in to do it. (Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have such a good BFF?) There has been some talk of me doing it on my own, but I can't see it very well and am a bit uncomfortable with that. If I had to, I would, and I may have to. 

I have learned some new tricks this last week. I learned about Amazon Fresh. I can't shop you see so I had to get groceries into the house and Amazon Fresh was the answer. I miss grocery shopping. But for the next month this will do just fine. In fact, it's a little too easy. 

Now, here I sit on Christmas even wondering, yet again, how I got here. I've reached the acceptance stage of this adventure that this isn't a quick fix. It's a long game of healing. Healing takes time and patience and is SO VERY exhausting. Still, I've come to grips with the fact that I'll be down for the count at least through the end of January. Can't drive until the wound is completely healed over, and based on the look of it, it'll be weeks, if not months. 

One of the promises to the universe I made was that if I didn't have to do IV antibiotics at home, I would start paying attention to what I was eating. It hasn't been easy since I can't really cook much, but I'm making a plan and changing where I can. I'm sure the universe understands that I'm a slow learner and has given me a grace period to get used to this new reality. 

I bought myself a book to read to really, truly start understanding what being a diabetic means. I've been ignoring what this means and assuming that there weren't any real changes I need to make. I know that's wrong now and promised myself I'd learn more about this disease and how I can best management. 

I have weekly doc appointments now with the Infectious Disease doc. He'll be the main one I check in with now. Doc M, the podiatrist, wants me to visit him in a couple of weeks. I'd love to if I could get an appt. 

And so on this day before Christmas, I've stopped feeling sorry for myself. I'm learning to be patient and accept that this will take some time to heal and I'll be back on my feet in now time (pun not intended). I'm so very grateful for all the friends and family who have helped out either by driving me somewhere, bring me food and conversation, or just checking in. My tribe is very special to me and I've learned that they are here for me. It does take a village it seems. 

Bored and Anxious

We last left off with me sitting in hospital room wondering what the hell had just happened. I was ultimately in the hospital for 7 days. Seven LONG days. Let me give you a quick run down of what happened.

On Monday, Dec 8, Doc M, the podiatrist, came in to see me. He filled me in on the significant infection. They took cultures and needed to determine what bacteria was involved so they can focus the antibiotics. Until that time I’d be on three different, hard hitting antibiotics. I could expect some nausea and diarrhea for my troubles too. Yipee.

He also informed me that I’d be going into surgery Tuesday evening. They needed to get ride of the “dead” skin and what not and see just how far the infection went. He suspected it was into the joint and was hoping it wasn’t as far as the bone. If it was in the bone, I’d lose my pinky toe. If it was in the joint, it’d still be bad, but not as bad.

I met two additional doctors that night as well. The “hospitalist” doc who is the doc on the floor for several days; Doc E2 (not to be confused with the first Doc E I saw way back when). And the Infectious Disease Doc – Doc V – who was amusing and serious all in one. His specialty, besides infections, was wearing ugly Christmas sweaters every day of December. Hearing I was being seen by an infectious disease doc kinda freaked me out a little more. As if I didn’t realize how serious this was, THAT made it more serious to me.

He repeated what Doc M said and scolded me a little about how I should have come in sooner. He said the cultures could take 2-3 days to grow for them to know what it was. That’s about when I realized I wasn’t going home anytime soon.

If I’m being totally honest with myself, I didn’t have a CLUE what an infection looked like or signs of infection. I had always thought a fever meant you had an infection. I never had a fever. The Saturday before I had bad chills and was exhausted. It turns out that should have been my sign. I know that now.

 I slept like crap those first two nights. I had anxiety running through my veins and I just couldn’t turn off my brain.

Speaking of veins, by this time, I still have the two IVs in my arms, one on the left side and one on the right side. They are pumping me full of any and every antibiotic known to man. They took cultures, but don’t know what they are yet and so are hitting it as hard as they can with the hard stuff.

Surgery was scheduled for that Tuesday which meant I had to hang out all day Monday and anxiously wait for Tuesday. And not just Tuesday but Tuesday at 5 PM.

Because of the surgery the last time I could eat on Monday was by 9 AM. I was sure I was going to be starving by the time they took me back for surgery. Turns out anxiety tends to take away your appetite. I spent the day wondering what the heck was gonna happen. What was I going to do? What was the plan? How was I going to do this living by myself? I knew all these answers would be answered eventually but as you know, I’m a very impatient person. Guess this is another lesson I need to learn.

Surgery day came and went. The surgery was a success in that they were able to confirm it wasn't in the bone (Thank God) but it was in part of the joint. They "cleaned house" and feel like they got all the bad stuff out. Now it was the waiting game. More antibiotics, more waiting. That was going to be my next several days. 

The cultures were still not done so I waited. Daily visits from all three doctors. I lost count of how many different nurses and CNAs came in and out of my room. 

On Thursday, Infectious Disease doc closed down my bathroom because I had diarrhea and that meant I had to use the commode. Oh goody. As if the hospital stay wasn't bad enough. 

Finally on Thursday though, they had an idea of one of the bacterias was. I couldn't tell you what it was. All I know is it had a LONG name that was rattled off as if I was to know what it was. It's probably good then I couldn't Google it and freak myself out more. 

It wasn't all bad. Really, the only bad part was the boredom. Not a lot of interesting TV. Didn't want to read. I spent a lot of time contemplating my life choices and making promises out to the universe. 

I did have some visitors though, so that broke up the boredom. K&R stopped by and got to witness the cleaning of the wound. They brought me the most frustrating game ever...which kept my mind off things. F stopped by with hot chocolate and conversation. Janet stopped by twice. Once to get Wroamin to take him home and once to bring me clam chowder. Sherrie was constantly there too. She got to learn how to care for the wound for once I was home. She's a trooper that one. I really don't deserve her. I will be forever grateful for her though. 

Finally the day came when I was going home. Now the hard work would begin. I had some learning to do and it wasn't going to be fun. 

The silver lining here, if there was one, is I have zero pain. The curse and the blessing of neuropathy is you can't feel your feet. After watching all the poking, scraping, cleaning that went on with the wound I'm VERY glad I can't feel it. But, now I have to be extra diligent it seems. Another lesson has been learned. 

The Unexpected Hospital Stay

It could never be said that I am not the queen of learning life’s lessons the hard way. Why is that? Is it human nature? Or just my nature? I often soften the fall by saying we learn more from our mistakes, and I do believe that, but I could have gone a lifetime without this lesson.

It was a gray overcast Sunday, typical of the PNW this time of year, when I decided that perhaps I take myself off to urgent care to have them take a look at my poor foot that was looking worse by the minute. Maybe I should back up to tell the story of how I got here.

This adventure all started when I discovered what I thought was a blood blister on the bottom of my right foot after we got back from Greece. I’m sure it happened in Greece because there’s no other reason for me to have a blood blister that size other than for the miles and miles that we walked on our trip. Perhaps my shoes weren’t as great as I thought they were.

Once I showed the family, they immediately said to get to the doctor. Well, getting to a doctor these days takes an act of congress I swear. I was fortunate to beg and plead enough that they were able to get me into a doc to look at my foot. It wouldn’t have been so hard if, while in Greece, I hadn’t received a letter saying my primary care doc left Evergreen hospital. So, without a primary care it’s almost impossible to get an appointment.  

The appointment was a week out so I monitored and photographed the sore to have something to share with the doc. The doc I got was AMAZING. He was an older doc who was the kindest, understanding, and gentle. I wanted him to be my new primary doc – sadly he was retiring in 6 months.

Doc E took a look at my foot and he thought it best to send me to a podiatrist who specializes in diabetic foot ulcer.

Yep. I said what I said. He diagnosed it as a diabetic foot ulcer. I wouldn’t google that if I were you. It still looked more like a blood blister to me, than a foot ulcer. He said any wound on the foot of a diabetic can turn into a foot ulcer. Oh goody.

So off to Doc M a week later. I was sitting in his office starting to really worry about what it was and what it meant to me. Doc M took a look at it, cleaned it up, wrapped it and gave me strict instructions to care for it. And to set up a mtg for a couple of weeks out. Off I went.

I swear I followed his instructions as best I could. I did not walk around the house barefooted. I put gauze on it twice a day. I covered it. I didn’t get it wet. I didn’t walk around without shoes. I was doing all the things. Or so I thought. In hindsight now, I can see where I didn’t follow these instructions perfectly. I took a shower one day without covering it – I forgot. I had to run to the bathroom one day without it being covered. So maybe these small missteps got me to where I am. No matter. I’m here, now we deal with it.

Then the first week of December, my boss came to town and we all met at a coffee shop to work and then go to a Christmas dinner. Being out of the house and sitting instead of lying back with my foot up on the recliner, cause the foot to swell a little bit. I thought. Thursday night it was swollen and a little red. By Friday, it was MORE swollen and MORE red. Saturday I was contemplating going to Urgent Care, but I thought I’d just watch and see. By Sunday, it was getting even worse. So, I put on my big girl pants and went off to urgent care.

Urgent care sent me to the ER. While there, the nurse on duty got me all hooked up to IVs for fluids. By this time, I’m panicking a little. I’m picking up on the serious expressions and concern with each nurse/doc that comes in. The on call doc, Doc David, casually comes in, takes a look at my poor pinky toe and foot for like 15 seconds, then states matter of factly that “we’ll probably have to amputate” and walked out.

WHAT? Amputate! Amputate what? My foot? My pinky? What? Now real panic is setting in.  

Honestly, I just don’t think you should drop that kind of word on someone who’s already in a fragile mental state of being admitted into ER. 

Within a matter of 2 hours of leaving my house, I’m admitted into the hospital with a whole lot of questions, 2 IVs dumping massing antibiotics and a stunned woman who is trying to figure out what just happened.

They took some cultures. They did some other tests but really didn’t tell me much other than it’s a significant infection. I felt judged and scared. And in that room, I sat now for six straight days, staring at the walls, staring at the TV, staring at my foot, and doom scrolling like nobody’s business. All the while wondering what the hell this meant.

Revisiting Greece...scrapbook style

It's done! I finished the Greece scrapbook this week. Took me just about a month - give or take. My process served me well. It's efficient and it allows me to be creative and get shit done. 

I had to change things up a bit this year because my scrapbook computer is having issues and won't allow me to open a windows explorer window and then it stopped connecting to the internet when I updated my router. No biggy, I was able to work around it. 

My process always starts with organizing my photos. Over the years, and so many scrapbooks later, I know what I'll scrap and what I won't. I organize the photos by day then by event of that day. I always have a "Misc" folder because there's always random photos I take that don't really belong anywhere, but may have a story I might want to tell. For example this photo. 

I couldn't tell you what day it was, but it amused me and so I'll scrapbook it. 

Once I have the photos organized, I go through each folder and decide which photos I want to use. I create a "Do Not Use" folder and drop any photo that isn't something I want to scrap or a duplicate of a photo. I try to narrow it down to as few of photos as I can, but will still display our trip and tell my story. 

From there I go searching for a layout. 90% of my layouts are scraplifted (basically taking a page someone else did and trying to duplicate it). Most of the time they never come out looking the same. It's something a lot of scrapbookers do. The manufacturers post pages using their paper and what not hoping you will buy it. And we do. Here's an example:

This is the layout I was working with.

This was my layout. Close, but different.

Once I have the layout figured out, now it's time to scrap. This is when my scrapbook room becomes a complete disaster. I get all my travel collections out and put them on a table so they are within reach. This year I had organized them into these 12x12 plastic containers and it worked perfect. It made it easy to get the collection out and clean up after I was done. 

I'm really happy with how this scrapbook turned out. It's so much fun to look through the photos and relive the event. Sometimes when you're on a cruise/tour it has to go so fast that you don't really have time to reflect on what you're seeing or doing. Creating the scrapbook gives me a chance to do that. I look up things and document the photos as best I can. 

I have a few favorite pages this year. All were scraplifted, but with my own twist. 

This one required a lot of stamping. All those words are stamped. I saw this done and knew I had to give it a try. I love how it turned out. 

I always love a good grid. I had several layouts that are in the format of a grid. 

I used a kit from Paige Evans called "Adventurous". I'm not a huge Paige Evans fan in general, but this kit was just different enough of what I normally would use that I felt I had to challenge myself. 

This page required some painting. I don't have any paints, but I have stamping ink. I used a paint brush and the ink and I feel like it really turned out looking good. 

So now I'm done! It was fun to scrap in a 12x12 layout and be able to use all the embellishments. Scrapping in a smaller format often doesn't allow me to use all the embellishments as they are often too large. I felt my creating juices really flowing this year and am happy with each page. The full book is here in case you want to see it all. 

The Almost DUI

My friend KA is a fantastic storyteller. She thought she wanted to be a standup comic at one point in her life and the way she told stories she would have been quite successful. 

KA was arrested YEARS ago for a DUI. To hear her tell the story, you'd be in stitches over something that isn't very funny.  She used her experience to make people laugh AND to make you aware of the consequences. [Side note: the DUI changed her life - she went from drinking - over drinking - daily, to not drinking at all. To this day, she still doesn't drink and it's been at least 15-20 years.]

The news this morning had a story about how during the holidays DUIs go up. Not too surprising considering the amount of celebrations that go on this time of year. And let's face it, we celebrate with food and drink. There's something about this time of year though, where some tend to let themselves celebrate a little too much. 

I was one of those people in the early 2000's. 

I was working for a company that I loved (at the time) and it knew how to celebrate. For Christmas one year we all gathered at a bar in downtown Seattle and it was an open bar. 

We drank, we ate, we laughed, we drank some more and we watched some folks lose everything they ate. To say we were all hammered would be putting it lightly. 

Some folks took cabs home. Some walked home or walked it off. Some fell asleep in their car. Some of us drove home. 

I very vividly remember making the decision to drive. This was before Uber and cell phones. I really had no idea how I would get home if I didn't drive. I had convinced myself that I was fine. I wasn't as drunk as the others. I could hold my liquor. 

After convincing myself, I turned the key and drove home. 

I remember focusing so hard to "stay in my lane". I tried real hard to watch my speed. I stayed in the right hand lane. I focused and focused and focused. I was driving from downtown Seattle to the East side (about 10 miles by freeway) and it was a drive I did every day for years. I felt I knew it by heart. 

All the way home, I was saying to myself that I was being an idiot. That I shouldn't be driving and that if I made it home, I'd never EVER do this again.

I made it home. Safely. I didn't hurt myself, my car, or - thank goodness - no one else. 

I fell into bed and didn't think about it again that night. 

The next day I was riddled with guilt. I couldn't believe I had done that. I couldn't believe how easy it was to convince myself that I could do it. I wasn't that drunk, I'd be fine.

I was lucky that day. Very lucky. And I kept my promise. I have not gotten behind the wheel of a car after drinking more than a glass of wine or a beer or two. Though now that I type that there was this one wine tasting day that we had to have some food before we drove home because we may have been too tipsy to drive. In this case, I really was fine. We took the precaution to have Mexican food to soak up anything left in our system.

If I think about that night, I break out in cold sweats. I was very, very lucky! I know that. I appreciate the fact that I "got away with it". It could have been so much worse. I could have been my friend KA. I could have gotten arrested, spend a night in jail, paid THOUSANDS in fines and attorney's fees, I could have ruined my life or someone else's. 

The moral of the story should be pretty clear. Don't drink and drive. You are NOT ok to drive. If you have to ask yourself that question, you are not ok to drive. You can call me and I will come and get you. No matter the time of day or night. 

Be safe everyone and have a brilliant holiday season with or without alcohol. 

RIP Uncle Johnny

He was the last. The last of that generation. He's now gone. My mom's brother, Johnny passed Oct 11, 2025. His passing was quicker than we expected, but he's at peace now and that's what he needed. 

Uncle Johnny was my favorite uncle. I don’t have a ton of memories of him—partly because I was so young when we lived near him, and partly because we didn’t spend much time around Mom’s side of the family in later years. But every memory I do have of him makes me smile.

He was such a goofball—always cracking jokes, laughing, or doing something silly just to make everyone else laugh. He was that kind of person who could light up a room with his humor.

My fondest memory of him is from the summers we spent at Grandma and Grandpa Spaid’s house in Azusa. He worked a late shift and wouldn’t get home until after 10 p.m., but my sister Melanie and I would always stay up waiting for him. As soon as we heard his car pull up, we’d race into the living room—he slept on the pull-out sofa when we were there—and jump on his bed to wait for him.

Without fail, he’d come in carrying a bag from In-N-Out Burger. We’d sit cross-legged on the bed, sharing his dinner and watching The Three Stooges—his favorite. He could impersonate them perfectly, and before long we’d be in tears from laughing so hard.

Most of my other memories of him are with my mom. The two of them together were pure chaos—in the best way. They’d get each other going, laughing nonstop, and you couldn’t help but join in.

When mom was dying, he and his family were there to support and say their goodbyes. Even in a sad time, he tried to lighten the mood. I was in Mom's room with him as he was retelling her stories of their childhood. And apologizing to her for all the "grief" he caused as a little brother. 

He struggled later in life. After he retired, I think he just got lost and had demons he was dealing with. He and my aunt split and he just seemed really unhappy. He'll be missed regardless. 

Here's his obituary my Aunt posted. 

Johnny Gordon Spaid, Born November 28, 1952, to Louise M. Spaid and Ward. A Spaid in Grants Pass Oregon. His older sister, JoEllen Spaid, also welcomed the new arrival. They did not stay in Oregon for very long, around 6 years or so, because Johnny was allergic to the saw dust from the lumber mills.

Ward, Louise, JoEllen and Johnny headed down south to Azusa California. He was surrounded mostly by his Mother's family the Emery's. His childhood was filled with sports, music, laughter and friendships. Johnny attended local schools graduating from Gladstone High School in 1970.

The Vietnam War was in full scale and Johnny decided to voluntarily enlist into the United States Air Force in December of 1970. He was headed to Lackland Air Force Base in Texas. After completing basic training he was assigned to a unit of the Strategic Air Command at Seymour Johnson Air force Base in North Carolina. From there, Johnny was headed to Hahn Air Force Base in Germany. Boy did he love Germany!!!

One year, while stationed at Hahn, he picked grapes at a local vineyard. He saved a bottle of wine, from that vineyard, for a special occasion, we opened it on our honeymoon. He traveled, while in the service, to Morocco and Greece, picking up a few mementos. He and I talked about returning to Germany, Morocco and Greece while looking at pictures and slides of his adventures.

He was released from active duty on August 19, 1975. While attending Citrus College, he and I met in September of 1976 in an Economics class. We began dating in December of 1976, were engaged by March of 1977 and were married on August 27, 1977.

The next four years we dedicated ourselves to each other and getting acquainted, lots of fun and hard work setting up our home and continuing our education. Our first child, Steven Emery Spaid was born on October 27, 1981, followed by Taryn Brittany Spaid, born November 15, 1984 and last, but not least, Michael Justin Spaid, born April 1, 1987.

John worked for Monrovia Nursery for approximately 4 years as one of their Sales Representatives. He even met Gregory Peck while working at Monrovia Nursery, it was special.

We purchased our first home, a townhouse, in San Dimas. This is where we started our little family. We lived in San Dimas 3 years and purchased our first home in Glendora. The family continued to grow, we both changed jobs and ended up working for Kaiser Permanente. He worked as a Radiology Clerk until he retired at age 65.

We were married for 42 years, raised three beautiful children. Johnny began to decline rapidly and we eventually lost him on October 11, 2025. We will miss him dearly, but have very fond memories which can never be taken away. Rest in Peace my Love.

Day 10: Homeward bound

Never in all my years of traveling have I counted down when it's time to go home. 

Sherrie and I both were just done. We were ready to leave it all behind us. 

Saturday we got up and had a late disembarkation time (9:15) so we just lounged around coughing and hacking and sneezing and blowing our drippy noses. 

We weren't headed to the airport to leave, but rather to the airport to get to a hotel to stay for a night before heading home. I couldn't get a flight out of Rome in time for us to get there so we had to stay an extra night. Not something we really wanted to do at this point, but so be it. We had a hotel and by God we'd survive this nightmare of a cold.

We took the Norwegian shuttle to the airport and promptly found a taxi to take us to our hotel Fuimincino that was supposed to be "close" to the airport. A 15 minute taxi ride around winding streets that made no sense and at least a dozen round-a-bouts. 

Side note: Rome drivers are scary. I thought we were going to die at least a dozen times in that 15 minute trip. 

The taxi driver eventually found Suite Fuimincino hotel and dropped us off. The hotel was a B&B and was locked up tight by a gate. We had no idea how to get in. I ultimately had to call the woman I was chatting with in WhatsApp to find out how we get in. She buzzed us in a gate just down from where we were dropped off. 

After all the paper work, she walked us to our room and showed us how to use the fancy key. She opened the door to what I can only describe as the most basic room I've ever seen. 

Have you ever seen a nunnery in a movie and it shows their rooms? There's a bed and maybe a side table and maybe a lamp on that side table. That. That's what this room was like.

Frankly, I didn't care. I just needed a clean bed to sleep in. 

We dropped our bags and went out in search of lunch. Neither of us overly hungry, but we knew we had to eat. 

We found the beach and a little seafood restaurant that appeared to be opened. Sherrie got her salad and I got gnocci that was absolutely disgusting. But the best part...we got our Fantas.

On our way back from lunch we both agreed we weren't going out for dinner, but we'd need something. We found a small grocery store and bought some items for dinner. I bought a premade sandwich, what looked like BBQ chips and some cough drops. I had a feeling it was going to be a terrible dinner, but I'd survive. 

I was right. I wish I had taken a photo of the sandwich because it really was pathetic. 

The next morning we were up bright and early to get to the airport by 6am. We got our bags checked and headed through security. 

We found the duty free and bought some more chocolate to bring home with us and then found some breakfast and coffee. 

I'd say the flight home was uneventful, but I was having some tummy problems and TWICE almost didn't make the bathroom. 

Alas, we made it home. I walked in the door about 8pm. Hugged the cat. Drug my suitcase upstairs and then took a shower to get all the travel gunk off me. I fell into bed by 9am and woke bright and early at 3:30 am. 

It feels good to be home. Linus is happy and clearly missed all the attention he's used to. He hasn't left my side. 

Day 8 & 9 Greece Trip: Pompeii and Florence/Pisa - or should I say..."the ship cabin"

 So....we spent a couple of days in the cabin. Not the most fun that's for sure. 

Sherrie came back from Messina a lot in pain and sporting a helluva cold all of a sudden. Her head was stuffed and full of sinus pressure. All I could think was "Crap, now I'm gonna get sick too." 

And sure enough, Thursday morning I woke with a sore throat. I could have suffered through Pompeii if Sherrie wanted to go. She was having none of it. By the time she woke up on Thursday it was full on sinus pressure. She was one unhappy cruiser.

Our port today was Salerno. Our plan was to go to Pompeii. It was one of the stops Sherrie was really looking forward to. She's not seen Pompeii and really wanted to. I choose to not go alone. I've seen Pompeii and I knew I was getting the cold Sherrie brought home from Messina. 

We sat in the room most the day. Leaving only to get dinner or, in my case, Starbucks. 

The next day we were scheduled to go to Florence. I had already cancelled my excursion because they added a 45 minute walk back to the bus at the end of the day and I knew I wouldn't be able to do that after a 10 hour excursion. Sherrie decided on Thursday that there was no way she'd make it easy. We went to the excursion desk and, thankfully, we were able to get her money back for it. Cuz it was an expensive one. 

Friday we did much of the same we did on Thursday. We sat in the room, stuffy and coughy. We watched some movies. We left only for food and spent a good part of the day sleeping.

Those two days were both boring as hell and a complete blur. I remember sitting in the room thinking I was going to die of boredom, but the next thing I know it's time to pack our bags and put them out for us to disembark on Saturday. 

This should be a fun trip home. Nothing like traveling when you feel like crap. 

Day 7 Greece Trip: Messina, Sicily

Sooo….I stayed on the boat again today. It wasn’t originally planned, but after yesterdays walk about my back started acting up.

It kept cramping yesterday during our walk, then again several times that night. Slept like crap and had to keep getting up to stretch the back. Plus the right shin started cramping about 2am. I felt like I was one big ball of cramps.

When I got up, the back didn’t feel much better. I knew then I wasn’t going to go. I debated back and forth but since tomorrow is Pompeii I really wanted to be ready for that. So I stayed behind. I’ve been to Messina, in fact, the excursion we had today was the one we did last year, so I figured I wasn’t missing much. Sherrie went though.

I definitely made the right call. I stayed and iced and stretched and iced and stretched. It feels immensely better tonight.

Sherrie went and had a good time, but came back pretty sore. Her neck has been outta whack for several days and today put her over the edge. When she got back she ate lunch and then we went straight to the spa to see if she could get a massage. They took her right away. She feels way better now, so it was worth it. She also decided to cancel the Florence and Pisa excursion on Friday. It’s a 10 hour excursion and she just didn’t think she could with her neck being like it is. So we’ll both spend the day on the boat doing nothing. It sounds glorious!

My day was rather boring really. I shuffled up to breakfast and then stopped at Starbucks on the way back to the room. Then I just lazed around the room. I turned on the TV in time to watch The Nickel Boys. What a terrible movie. The book was fantastic, the movie was terrible.

  

Tomorrow, as I said, is Pompeii. I’m a bit anxious about getting there on time to make our tour, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just me being paranoid again.

Day 6 Greece Trip: Malta (Valletta and Mdina)

Oh my goodness! Malta is BY FAR my most favorite port yet. Coming into the port you see the walled city immediately. It’s beautiful. The water is beautiful. It’s just…well…beautiful.

Our excursion today was a walking tour of Valletta and Mdina. We started at Valletta and saw some pretty cool things. The tour guide was a funny little man. He was a slow stroller and stopped every now and then and would tell us some history. I, personally, loved this over using the whispers because I hate having those damn things in my ear.

Anyhow, there’s a bunch of history around Valletta but none can I remember to tell you. If you want to know you can go look it up.

We strolled up to the Barrakka Gardens. It overlooks the harbor and has these amazing arches up there.

From there we walked over to St. John’s church. We were given a whole 15 minutes of free time before we had to meet back up at a spot that was about a 15 minute walk away.

After hiking back to the bus we headed to the walled city of Mdina.

You might recognize the gate into Mdina if you’re a Game of Thrones fan.

Inside had these narrow alleyways that were a ton of fun to photograph.

And of course we had to do our crab picture as we got back on the boat, but before that, we ran through a gift shop and I bought a Christmas tree ornament. 

Day 5 Greece Trip: Olympia

Today started out wet…very wet. We had a thunderstorm as we came into port and the clouds just opened up and dumped. We wondered for a bit if they’d cancel the excursions for thunderstorms. They did not.

I can’t say we were looking forward to walking around the Olympic archeological site in a downpour, but we would because we were here. Turns out the clouds parted and it was decent. Not overly sunny but overcast and not raining.

We drove 30 minutes to get to the archeological site and were promptly greeted by a cat.

The Olympic archeological site is where the Olympics were born in 2 AD. We saw the ruins of the training facility, the baths, the stadium itself, and so many temples. Zeus of course had the biggest, though it’s no longer standing. It still has the altar where the first Olympic flame was lit. To this day, every time there's an Olympics, they light it from this altar. There's a big ceremony and all. 

The entrance into the Olympic stadium

The Olympic Stadium

The altar the olympic flame is ignited from

Interesting fact, the Olympics were held naked. All the athletes were naked, the spectators were naked too. Who knew?

After the archeological site we went to a local, family-owned winery. Their family have been making wine for 150 years. We were greeted by their family dogs. All three were adorable, two followed us on the tour.

I can’t say their wine was good. It wasn’t to my taste. The snacks they gave us though were delicious. They also make olive oil so we had bread with some spreads on it and some with olive oil along with salami and cheese. It was delicious.

After we headed out and the two “guard dogs” were sleeping right in front of the door. Not a soul disturbed them, we all walked around them. Then to my enjoyment another cat showed up. I’ve lost count of how many photos I’ve taken by now.

We’re back on the boat for lunch and a nap. I took this picture of the port and then two minutes later turned around, and it was socked in with fog, rain pouring as if it hasn’t rained in decades. Wind howling, rain sideways kinda thing. Weird.

Now as we pull out of port, it’s just overcast.

Tomorrow we’re in Malta. Can’t wait to see how many cats they have.