Sirens in Sussex County

Just got back from our Daily Ride.  Every day I try to take Bill out of the house for his daily ride.  

This morning we stopped at the Post Office.  I had more books to mail to my blogger friend Jon.  By the way, Jon writes a very interesting blog called "Lone Wolf Concerto."  Check it out here.

We took our usual ride down Oyster Rocks Road to the Broadkill River.  Then on the way back I drove us through the Osprey Landing development and the Oyster Rocks development, which adjoins our housing development.  We have to check the progress of the new houses.  We're the unofficial housing inspectors.

The temperature and the humidity is climbing today.  On days like this the birds in our backyard make good use of our eight bird baths.  While I was out replenishing the bird baths I heard the wail of multiple sirens and the "WHAP! WHAP!" of an overhead helicopter.  

WHAT IS GOING ON?

The last time we had this much excitement down here in Lower Slower  (LSD) was when Joan Rivers majestically graced the Great Unwashed down here with her presence by arriving in a ridiculously long, black stretch limo with triple darkened windows.  But alas, Joan is no longer with us so what could all this cacophony be about?

Vice President Biden?  Uncle Joe frequently visits but his visits aren't usually accompanied with all that racket. 

Maybe a memorial service for the first of the
 five slain Dallas Police officers?  Probably. 

Tell you what, I'll let you know when I find out. 

This kind of activity keeps up folks, we'll lose our reputation as Lower Slower.

Note:  Just got an update.  All this activity was a gathering of firefighters from across the state to honor the memory of a local firefighter who fell to his death from a helicopter during a training exercise. 

Successful Saturday!

Dressed and ready to go!

Yesterday morning dawned bright and sunny.  I woke up mentally and physically prepared to assault my adjoining residential development of Oyster Rocks.  Yes, your intrepid neighborhood volunteer for the Democratic party was going to take advantage of their neighborhood yard sale and introduce myself.  

I have to admit it was with some trepidation as I dressed in my non-threatening, user friendly outfit of blue pull over sweater, pale yellow shirt, and clean jeans and headed out on foot with my clipboard, name badge and Democrat pin.  Ready to go Ron!

The roads in Oyster Rocks that I walked yesterday - lots of exercise!

I walked from my development which adjoins Oyster Rocks.  Checking my list of names and addresses, I stopped at the first house on my list.  I knock on the door and middle aged gentleman answered the door. I asked if his wife was in.  He said she was but she was busy.  I then identified myself as "Hi!  I'm your neighbor from Covington Chase and I'm the neighborhood volunteer for the Democratic party.  I want to let you know that we're active in the neighborhood and urging all registered Democrats to vote in this year, the off year elections.  Here's my card if you have any questions." 

He took my card and told me they had recently moved into the neighborhood from Maryland.  I told him that I had moved from Pennsylvania to Delaware in 2006.  We thus began a pleasant conversation that lasted about a half an hour.  He took me on a tour of his backyard.  As I was talking with him and going on his tour I noticed more cars and activity around me, as more people were coming into the Oyster Rocks development for the yard sales. I thanked him and excused myself and was on my way.

Oyster Rocks neighborhood yard sale yesterday

Well folks, I won't go through everyone that I saw but I did see a LOT of folks!  I think about twenty-five.  I made a good dent in my list of contacting registered Democrats.  Some just answered the door and I gave them my card.  Some others, like Patty W., was also a passionate Democrat who saw the need for a change and we had long conversations.  So, from 8 am to about 11:30 am I had an extremely productive time introducing my wonderful self to said registered Democrats.  

I was apprehensive about knocking on doors of strangers but it appears my fears were unfounded.  My friend Pat told me that I would more likely make more friends than have a door slammed in my face.  The only negative I had was when I knocked on a door of an older house out on Oyster Rocks Road.  An older lady (older than me so you know that is OLD) answered.  She was reluctant to open the door but I motioned for her to open it so I could give her my card.  After I introduced myself she said, with a scowl on her face, "I hate all politicians! They're all liars!" Hmmm, actually I couldn't totally disagree with her and told her so.  Apparently that broke the ice because we also had a long conversation about local politics, the neighborhood and her family which has been in Sussex County for generations (her daughter and son-in-law lived in the house next to hers).  We ended our meeting with her saying to me "God bless you!"  So what do you think folks?  Could I be one of those lying politicians? Nah, I don't have the temperament.  First, I couldn't and wouldn't lie.  Secondly, I have very little patience with some of the more extreme right wing views and I would vociferously voice my views.

One of the hidden houses on Route One (behind that clump of trees) - I couldn't figure out how to get in

After a very successful morning in Oyster Rocks, I returned home and had lunch and took my daily nap.  Awaking from my nap I was all energized again and decided to stop out on the highway (Route One) and knock on those doors. Well folks, that was a completely different demographic out there.  Registered Democrats for sure but not the "imports" that I was so successfully talking to in the morning in Oyster Rocks.  These folks are the original Sussex County residents, lower on the economic scale and houses not quite so grand as mine and my fellow neighbors in Oysters Rocks.  All the houses except one I didn't get anyone to come to the door.  I know they were there because I saw the pickup trucks their driveway.  Again, just another reminder of how lucky I am to have a nice home among nice friendly folks.  There is definitely a cultural divide down here folks, even among us Democrats. 

Yes Paul Ryan, we Dems are a diverse bunch

Is It Wednesday Already?

Chickens on their way to their doom - a common everyday sight here in southern Delaware

Time flies when you're having fun.  

Back to work again folks.  I'm beginning to feel like a full-time employee with all the extra hours I'm working at the hotel this month.  Hopefully I can get back on my regular schedule of two nights a week.  And that folks begins tonight, Wednesday night.  Then tomorrow night then I'm off to do my "other" work which at this time of year is my backyard work.  And of course I have new duties this year since I've been volunteered for local Democratic volunteer.  

Ron - neighborhood Democratic volunteer

This morning I will enter all the information of the 76 registered Democrats and 46 houses in my Address book.  I was given sheaves of paper with all this information but I find that unwieldy to handle whilst I'm looking for the domiciles of said registered Democrats who are my neighbors.  My goal is to make my in person visits this Saturday.  Hopefully to catch the unsuspecting unawares when I pounce on them and say "Hi! My name is Ron Tipton and I'm one of your nearby neighbors and a volunteer for the local Democratic party………and so on."  Yet another avenue of experience for your intrepid 72 year old formerly life long registered Republican who was radicalized by the extreme right wing fanatic crazy assed turn of what used to be the Republican Party (yes, I voted for Goldwater - my first ever vote in 1964 and Nixon - yes I did).  Well, enough about my newest non-paid venture.  I can hear the snores of some of you already.

First time out - I voted for one of the biggest losers ever

The past two days have been very uncomfortable for me.  The pain of the broken skin on my back at times is excruciating.  I find it very interesting at this time of my life I am experiencing all these new levels of pain.  Avenues of pain I've never trod down before. Not fun folks.  Yesterday I got some relief when I asked Bill to rub some of his hydro cortisone on the damaged areas on my back. 

Is this what my life's going to be like as I enter into Old Age?  Over the weekend I woke up in the middle of the night with severe leg cramps in my calves.  You know what they're like?  Charley Horses that you can't straighten out.  I had to get up and tromp around my bedroom before they finally went away. 

Just this morning I my right hand froze up with a minor attack of arthritis.  Those arthritic freeze ups have been going on for several years now.  I can handle them, probably because I'm used to them. However, they are becoming more frequent, not less.

So far all negative info this morning folks.  Sorry about that.  I do have some good information. Even though I'm on the outs with my brothers (because of my temerity) and former good friend Bill B., it is a relief not to hear the one brothers' paranoid crazy assed right wing accusatory rants against me.  Oh sure, I do have to occasionally hear my neighbors "I hate Obama!" rants but like my arthritic hand attacks, I'm sort of used to that.  I like her and if it makes her feel good to vent her anger, I'm okay with that…..I guess.  Would be nice to have a conversation for once though without the rant though.

The "Peace and Love" guys from Duck Dynasty - here's my question - if these "good Christian men" are the only ones going to Heaven, is this where I want to go?  Hey, maybe I really am going to Hell or…..maybe they're Hell. Just saying.

This is the first year in four years that Bill and I haven't take a trip South.  Seeing the buds out on the trees reminds me of our trips south and does give me a feeling of melancholy.  But those trips are not to be.  For one thing they're very stressful, traveling over 600 miles and 12 hours one way. 

Pigeon Roost North Carolina, probably my last visit to where my father was born and lived until he was ten years old at which time his family moved to southern Pennsylvania where he met my Mother and I happened

 Then all the unloading and loading at all those scruffy hotels, sleeping on hotel beds God knows who was sleeping there before, and then the expense.  I stopped counting when the bucks passed $2,000.  Bill always liked to visit his hometown in Georgia but we'll probably never do it again.  I think the "event" that sealed our decision never to travel again was when a homophobic cousin of mine threatened us last year when I attempted to visit his parents.

Glenn Renfro and his wife Wanda (my cousin) standing on the porch of his house which was built by my great grandfather Isaac Lewis (my father's mother's father and for whom my father was named). I am no longer welcomed because I "practice the gay lifestyle." So much for southern hospitality.  

 
The South is pretty and most of the people are friendly on the surface but God help you if you have come out of the closet, your life is literally in danger traveling in those isolated mountains.  Too many guns up there and low information voters willing to use them on anyone who is different from them.  No thank you, we'll stay here in Delaware where the state recognizes equality for ALL of it's citizens, gay and straight.

Okay folks, time to get started on my list.  Have a great day!

Where we live in Delaware - safe (relatively so) and sound - don't have to worry about some paranoid hillbilly shooting us just because we got married

Slice and Dice

This morning at the Medical Arts Building

7:15 a.m. this morning, slice and dice time for Ron.  Yes folks, this morning I continued to pay the price for all those years of baking on the beach working on my tan.  

7:15 a.m. was the time of my appointment with my dermatologist.  During my full body scan two weeks ago he found two suspicious spots on me.  One on my right cheekbone and the other on my right knee.  This morning my dermatologist sliced off both of the offending patches of skin for a biopsy.

The first part of the procedure are needles in the offending patches of skin.  This is the part of the procedure that really hurts.  And hurt it did. 

This is when I show my age, right before a medical procedure

I also had a keratosis patch burned off of the tip of my nose.  That hurt too.  I know I know, I'm a pussy. Looks like I need a haircut too.

The first biopsy taken

Next up, the knee.

I have my running shoes on.  Can't run away from this.

My dermatologist, the best!  

He's done a lot of slicing and dicing on my since I've been in Delaware.  This morning's procedure was done because he was concerned that the offending patches of skin were uneven and could be a precursor to melanoma.  That's one cancer you don't mess around with.

This is as close as I get to looking at my own blood

After the doctor stitches me up (yes, both cuts required stitches), Tammy comes in for the cleanup.

Tammy gets ready to clean me up and give me instructions - no bath for 24 hours - I'm gonna smell ripe this time tomorrow

I've had more work done on me these past 12 months than I've had the entire previous 72 years of my life - I may be falling apart - I feel like an old car that has to keep being patched up to keep it running

I'm done now.  Bill was waiting for me downstairs in the lobby.  He never goes into the dermatologist's office with me.  We head out in the cold (9 degrees) frigid air and home and warmth.  Another hurdle accomplished.  What's next?

Procedures done, I can smile now

My Sunday BJ Fix

Well folks, if it's Sunday morning it's time for my "BJ fix".  Yep, BJ's is a wholesale club warehouse retail store.  Now, now.  I bet some of you were thinking of a different meaning for BJ's.  Mind out of the gutter folks, mind out of the gutter. Tsk, tsk.

I remember when we lived in Pennsylvania I used to live shop at Wegman's at the Brandywine Shopping Center.  The BJ's store anchored the other end of the shopping center.  Dick's Sporting Goods store was only a few door before BJ's.  My oh so fussy neighbor complained once that she was highly offended that her children should be exposed to "Dick's" and "BJ's" in one fell swipe every time she took the Little Darlings to Wegman's.  Tough nougies I say.  The choice of names always rather amused me.  Hey, she should be thankful there wasn't a ladies' store called "Pussy Galore".

My, my, we do get hung up on names and their implications don't we?  

Well, not to change the subject but actually I will take a sharp turn here and CHANGE THE SUBJECT - wow was it ever cold this morning.

The thermometer read 25 degrees but with the wind, think Witches Tit Time.  (What is the matter with me today?)  Damn but it was cold unloaded all those items that I didn't need from BJ's into the back of my Subaru Gay Forester.

Talking to my Canadian friend Pat yesterday, he said they were experiencing the cold winds. Usually what he gets in Toronto (his home), we get here a day or two later.  Yesterday was positively balmy as I trimmed our holly trees.  Today?  Not so much.  On days like this I actually summer because I know the really cold stuff is on it's way.  The gray days of winter.  The gray, SHORT days of winter.  God, it gets dark around here at 4:30 in the afternoon.  I'm ready for bed.

So this week is the big countdown to Thanksgiving, which I won't be doing. Then the following four weeks is the commercial craziness that is Christmas here in our western culture.  I don't consider myself a "Bah, humbug" guy but I am glad when the crazy, commercial push is over for Christmas.  I've always enjoyed a nice, quiet Christmas Eve by myself.  

I sometimes think I even channel the true meaning of Christmas which is peace and goodwill towards all men.  How about that?  What a novel idea.  Love one another instead of figuring out ways to cause harm and destroy one another just because someone isn't like you.  Man, am I ever veering off course in this blog posting.  From Pussy Galore and Dick's to love and peace on earth.  That's me, a complicated guy.  A passionate guy.  I was born to love. And after all, all you need is love.

Loyalty

"My undying fealty to you sir!"

I have a condition called extreme loyalty.  

Maybe it was the way I was brought up to always respect authority that led to this lifelong condition I have of extreme loyalty.  Wether my loyalty is to friends who have let me down, or a job that is no longer good for me or even a barber that doesn't cut my hair the way I like my hair cut.

I have a big problem changing my loyalty to whoever I happen to be attached to at the moment.

My last test of loyalty was changing barbers.  I had to change barbers because my old barber was only on duty a few days a week.  Plus, she is located down the ever more dangerous Route One (the deadly main thoroughfare to Rehoboth Beach which has already claimed three lives this season).  

I finally made the break last month and started to see a new barber in Lewes.  She cuts my hair just as well plus I have lessened my exposure to the Mad Max drivers on Route One.  Mission accomplished although I continue to feel guilty by abandoning my barber Gail without so much as a "Goodbye."  I just know she tears up whenever she thinks of my absence. 

Now my latest test is changing dentists.  I have a perfectly good dentist located even further down Route One.  He is an excellent dentist, perhaps the best I've ever had. He always keeps my appointments on time.  His office is spotless.  His equipment (dental) is state of the art and up to date.  He is friendly and takes time to talk to me.  I only have two problems with him.  HE.IS.EXPENSIVE.  Buy hey, I think most dentists are expensive.  The other problem is that his office doesn't submit my insurance claims.  I have to deal directly with the insurance company myself which over the past two years has been extremely frustrating.  Either they make my payment directly to his office (which they have done numerous times) or they claim they haven't received my claim.  I just had to call them again this morning about a May 23rd, claim.  

A few weeks ago my co-worker told me of a new dental office he had some of his dental work. He mentioned that not only were the dentists cute (we're both gay, we like good-looking men working on our mouths - what can I say?) but more important was their office is located in Milton, only a few miles up the road.

I love Milton.  I like to do business in Milton.  So close, easy parking and stress free driving UP Route One, away from the madness of the Horde going south on Route One to Rehoboth and destinations beyond.  Plus, and this is a big PLUS, they submit the dental insurance paper work.  

So folks, I'm considering changing dentists but that old guilty feeling is sweeping over me again.  What will my old dentist think when I tell him I'm seeing a new dentist? 

Help me get rid of this guilty feeling!

Laurel Flea Market

That's me in the red pullover and tan shorts - do I look like I belong?

Yesterday I received a sad and long vitriolic comment on a long ago posting I had on the Laurel Flea Market.  Sad because my original posting was a tongue in cheek posting but apparently my attempt at dry humor was lost on the commenter.  Sometimes, nuance doesn't come through on blog postings.  

Sad because I was actually extolling the virtues of the Laurel Flea Market.  I did make the point that there are two main cultures here in southern Delaware.  The "natives", that is basically the "good old Southern boys" culture.  The skinny guys almost always missing a couple of teeth, either from meth or lack of money for regular dental visits.  You takes your choice.  

Mr. Reds caught our eye - standard "uniform" - pullover, with pants down his ass   - I think they're shorts but they could also be "high water pants"

After a long diatribe, the commenter told me I was a "snob" and to "go back from where you came from."  Yeah, take my money too?  

Me on the prowl looking for that bargain - notice the rainbow umbrella - we're everywhere!

Nope, the folks you see at the Laurel Flea market are a cross section of the diverse cultures here in Sessex County.  Hispanics, old biker guys with gray, ratty pony tails and bulging beer bellies, some orientals and just maybe a smattering of "snobs" like me who are looking for a bargain or just a chance to experience life in Southern Delaware.  

I DO look out of place don't I?

Bill asked me this morning if I wanted to go to the Laurel Flea Market.  An interesting coincidence because I hadn't even mentioned the sad and hateful comment I received on my blog posting about the Laurel Flea Market.  At first I didn't want to go, not in the mood.  Then I thought "Why not?"  Today is a nice day.  Low humidity (thank God) and temperatures in the 80's.  Actually really summertime weather instead of the "someone left the oven door open" weather we've been having the past two weeks.

Wouldn't you know it.  I'm standing underneath the dresses!

So we took a ride down to Laurel.  It was packed.  Couldn't find a parking place.  I wanted to go home.  Bill wanted to stay.  I hate driving around a dusty, dirt parking lot looking for a slot.  I just know I'll get another dent in my car.  Lots of pickup trucks and dented vans at the Laurel Flea Market.

Do my pants make me look fat?

We got lucky and found a parking spot on macadam.  Only thing we were next to one of THOSE VANS with the suspicious looking characters in it.  Looked like dope dealers to me. And hold off sending me any nasty comments.  I know when someone is dealing dope.  No reason for that many young guys to be hanging around the van, going in and out the back rustling through their "paper bags."  Give me a break.

Bill and I walk around.  Interesting characters to say the least.  Of course we're interesting characters to others too.  

I bought a pink Crepe Myrtle.  I saw a Royal Doulton figurine of a lady in a gown that caught my eye.  It said "Please rescue me!"  I walked by but before I got to the end of the row I told Bill "I have to go back and see how much that cost."  I go back, pick up the delicate figurine (I could almost see a smile appear on the figurine's face) and asked the grizzled, pony-tailed biker type "How much?"  "Fifty!" he spits at me.  I gently place her back on the worn table with her trashy friends and leave without a word.  $25 ......maybe but not $50.  

Bill buys a watermelon.  Has trouble getting change.  The lady who took his $10.00 bill for the $3.00 watermelon probably "forgot" she was to give Bill change.  Bill had to chase her down then she professed not to understand what he was saying.  Bill got his change after much arm waving and shouting.  You don't short change Bill.

That's Bill on the left in the plaid shirt - fondling the watermelons

Bill said "Let's go.  I'm tired.  I had enough."

We went back to our car.  I see the dusty, white, dented van with the suspicious looking characters in the back has gone too.  Gots to keep moving fellas.  

We head home down Rt. 9 through Georgetown on this summer Saturday morning, admiring the many different colors of Crepe Myrtle trees lining our route.

We get home.  Unload our car.  Just before I go into the house I check the side panel door to see if I have a "souvenir" from the Laurel Flea Market.  Sure enough, I do.  My door now has a "Laurel Flea Market" ding with paint scraped off.  Only about an inch but enough to draw my eye to it every time in the future when I go to my car.  

I got my touch up paint out and touched it up.  I can still see where the ding was but at least my eyes won't be drawn to it every time I get into my car.  

Thus ended our Saturday Morning Adventure to the Laurel Flea Market.  Bill said "Want to go again tomorrow?"  Um.....no, one ding is enough.

My "buy" of the day, a pink crepe myrtle bush! $9.50!

"Too Darn Hot!"

Folks, we've been living under a hot and humid heavy hand of the weather Gods for what seems like weeks now.  Just a short time outside the air conditioned walls of our comfy love nest results in sweat drenched T-shirts and beaded brow.  It is too damn darn hot!

This morning I threw caution to the wind (actually there was no wind so I guess I threw caution to the heavy humid air) and planted a crepe myrtle tree to take the place of our dear, departed bag worm infested arborvitae tree.  I thought if I got our early enough this morning I could avoid ending up like a sweat drenched pig.  Do pigs sweat?  A sweat drenched human being then.  And I did.

Not much going on around Casa Tipton-Kelly during this heat oppression. The heat and humidity has a way of sucking all the energy out of these two old married (recently) men.  

A cold front is supposed to arrive later this afternoon.  It's 4:24 pm now and the beat heat continues.

I actually have a few good subjects to write about in this blog but I have to "feel the moment" and I'm just not feeling it now, so drained I am.  

I think I'll update my Find a Grave.com account and post some more photos and memorials.  Later on I'll watch one of my Netflix rentals.  No doctor's appointments planned for this week (thank God).  Actually, nothing in the offing this week except going to work on Wednesday and Thursday. Of course I could tackle my "Memory Room" downstairs and clean out some of my memorabilia that I've accumulated over the past seventy some years.  Uh huh, sure.  NOT.IN.THE.MOOD.

Here's a little video Bill took of me transplanting our newest addition to our family of plants around Casa Tipton-Kelly.  Fascinating video.  It's on You Tube folks.  Let's see if it goes viral.


I'll be back tomorrow.  I'm mulling over in my mind writing about my First Crush in high school. I got some pictures of that First Crush but I can't find that One Photo.  So frustrating. When I'm looking for photos like this I often wonder what's going to happen to my treasure trove of photos when I'm gone.  I know I shouldn't waste my time worrying about such a thing because it won't matter once I'm gone but I can't help but think that the rich history of my life will be lost and gone forever once I'm out of the picture.  

Paying the Bills On a Rainy Friday Morning and Other Thoughts

Me paying the bills this morning via computer

Bill and I complement each other almost perfectly.  Bill is very mechanical. He can fix a broken toilet, like he just did here yesterday.  

Me?  I wouldn't know where to start.  Bill built all the additions to our house in Pennsylvania.  Me? Are you kidding?  I can hang a picture.  Beyond that, I'm not taking a chance on breaking any of my fingernails.

Now, when it comes to running the business called "Casa Tipton-Kelly, AKA our household.  That would be me.

When I first met Bill he didn't even have a checking account.  He paid what few bills he had with money orders.  Me?  I worked for a bank.  Well, I guess you can deduce that I changed those dynamics of paying bills.  That was in February of 1965 when I moved in with Bill at his garden apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey.

Bill at his Pennsauken, NJ apartment 1964

Ever since those halcyon days of our setting up house together I have been and still am the Office Manager of this empire, which is Casa Tipton-Kelly as we often tongue in cheek call our household.  

Back in the day I didn't think too much of paying the bills, making the phone calls, making the arrangements, etc and et al.  These days?  Maybe it's me but managing the day to day operations of Casa Tipton-Kelly seem to me more onerous and annoying these days in our fairy dust sprinkled past 49 years of cohabitation.  

I just finished paying bills again this morning.  Most of my bill paying takes place via the Internet.  I try to automat bill paying as much as possible.  Of course there are always a few straggler companies, like there are people who resist modernity and insist "I don't need the Internet!"  Then there are the Amish who claim they don't need modern conveniences like automobiles but hire others to drive them to funerals and such where there isn't parking for horse drawn buggies.

Paying bills by money order

Of course there is a downside to traveling by horse drawn buggy on a highway.

Sometimes sticking to old ways doesn't always work out

So I'm on board with the Digital Age and paying my bills by computer.  By the way, what happened to the myth of "less paper."  I have more paper than ever since I pay by Internet but I digress.

So here I am on this rainy Friday morning, making good use of my house induced time and catching up on paying my bills.  NOT one of my favorite activities.  I tried to lessen the boredom by having the TV on as background wallpaper.  My "wallpaper" this morning is the George Zimmerman/Trayvon Martin defense lawyer closing arguments.

My "wallpaper" isn't working because I'm becoming more and more irritated listening to Mr. O'Mara's ridiculous argument that George Zimmerman was some poor schlub who was attacked by that hoodie covered bully Trayvon Martin while he was looking for a street sign and only shot Trayvon because he was "protecting himself"  when Trayvon attacked him and was trying to beat his brains out on the cement pavement.  Oh please.  But I'm getting off the subject.

I finished paying the bills.  There will be more bills tomorrow.  Never a lack of bills and pleas for money from various charities.  Now my path is clear for the rest of the day to update my blog (as I am doing now), read some of my favorite bloggers and respond in kind.  

From my very short stint at the Marriott Hotel, Lionville, PA

I am so glad I am not working this weekend.  Last night at the hotel was very, very busy.  At one time I had three phones going, guests waiting to checkin, and other guests waiting with QUESTIONS (guests always have QUESTIONS for the front desk guy or gal).  I was way behind on my laundry, dishwasher and setting out the breakfast.  Anybody who thinks I'm just another pretty face sitting behind the front desk of an upscale boutique hotel in Lewes has another think coming.  

Rain is forecast for all weekend.  I am SO GLAD I don't have to explain to guests why we dared to have rain this weekend.  I even had one guest last night ask me if the hotel could provide a pass to a local pool for her kids if they couldn't go to the beach because of the rain.  Uh......NO.  Hey Mom, you're going to have to deal with those little darlings of yours on your own.  S.O.R.R.Y.