Weirdest places ever slept, part 4, God's house

As part of our day job related fund raising, we travel to all kinds of places and hotels. Sometimes when it is in our nonprofit world, we stay with friends or the locals offer to put us up. This is great as it saves money as we raise it. Several churches have had space to host us and we've always been grateful, but it's also some of the strangest sleeping quarters I've experienced.

I don't know if any of you have ever been in a huge building alone as a kid or an adult. As a kid I remember we'd play hide and seek in the basement of the church I grew up in while the adults ate finger food and drank punch upstairs somewhere. It always seemed like you'd get spooked and run like you'd never run in your life down a dark hallway. Also my dad used to rent "computer time"  in a big office building in downtown KC. I'd be the only person on the 10th floor poking in people's desks and such. Then I'd go even further down to the bathroom and get spooked and run like mad back to the computer room that was completely sealed and sound proof. My dad wouldn't have heard me yelling or running or anything the way it was set up. It was great fun.  I give you this as way as background to the places with dark hallways that might effect odd places I slept as an adult.

The first time we slept in a guest room inside a church it was in a smaller community, but the church could probably seat a couple hundred people. We had a compulsion to walk around and see everything just so we knew where we were at and how the land lay. My significant other sneaked into the sanctuary and tapped on the cymbals while I was in another part of the church getting a drink or something and tried to say it wasn't him. The church folks had thoughtfully put a lock on the door of the room.

One nice thing about a lock is that you are in a huge building alone and it's nice not to feel vulnerable. Two is that folks arrive at all kinds of early hours for church services and you'd like to not introduce yourself in your skivvies.

So another time, another religious institution, the guest room was actually a large lounge with six sofas that made into beds. So you just picked one and opened up. While it was a big space (besides being in a big building) it very distinctly wasn't a single bedroom. We dressed in the attached bathroom.

Well, putting it mildly I'm not an early riser. The early risers in this rural farm community were getting coffee going behind a folding curtain that attached to our room. My significant other got in the shower and gave me a moment to awake. I started worrying this big room was a Sunday School area and I should get moving. I traded the sofa room for the bathroom only to hear pounding on the door of our area. I was about to turn on the shower when my man opened the door and said that I needed to hurry they were going to have to turn off the water.  The snow storm had frozen and broken pipes which were filling the heating system with water. Uhm, okay, no pressure.

When I came out to join in the donuts and early morning church rituals, you could hear the water pounding in the heating vents like tribal drums. Really weird sound.

Okay, so another room another state. This time attached to the men's bathroom as this was the only bathroom that had a shower. My spouse taught me that it is inappropriate to balance one's makeup bag on the handle of a urinal, but honestly you just work with whatever space you have and there wasn't any. We stayed in this arrangement for eight weeks. It was in a urban spill from a very large city. The kitchen was in the basement which meant walking through the sanctuary (in the dark) and down some stairs and hallways to the kitchen for hot water or microwaves etc. So I had to psych myself up for the journey (see the paragraph of childhood basement running above!).

It was fine and we didn't mind. These are just the little challenges you don't think of unless you stay a place as unusual as the back of thousands of square feet of public use space. After a few days, someone from the pastoral family mentioned that we needed to double check the side door by the sanctuary (not the one we used in the back dark parking lot!) because it didn't always latch and sometimes homeless people came inside to get warm. No big deal but it was best to check. Yeah. Note to self check the doors and the dark hallways on the way to the far away kitchen.

So then my significant one had to leave for another meeting and I got to stay there completely alone for two weeks. It was fine. Really. So maybe yes, I ran a couple times thru dark hallways, but I was grateful for somewhere to stay. It probably helped the intensity of my prayers!

Weirdest Place Ever Slept ,Part 1, Animal Heads

We aren't always in control of where we stay when we are on a nonprofit fund raising mission which makes for fascinating travel. We drive to an address in a small town or a city and see what we find. We don't mind this at all and are quite grateful for a free bed.

So in one small town in a place far, far away from most places you've heard of and won't be named so as not to hurt feelings, we spent an evening sharing our "work" vision. The people hosting us said over pizza, "The local motel is horrible we wouldn't put our worst enemies there, so we put you in the local bed and breakfast."

At this point, my mind said, oh how wonderful. This will be so nice. It's been ages since we were at a b and b. Must be something quaint in a little town like this. Their next sentence stopped me in my tracks so to speak.

"It used to be the old folks home."

Uh, huh. So off we went three or four blocks in this tiny place to the old folks come cum bed and breakfast. We were giggling all the way. So do you check in but you can never leave?

Turns out bed and breakfast was more of a literal term than a descriptive one. It had become a hunting lodge of sorts as this part of the countryside draws hunters. So the public eating area and living room were covered in the heads of various taxidermy-ified animals.

The "living room" had quite a selection of recliners and just a couple side table lamps. Giving it a dimly lit shadowy atmosphere. A television flickered blue in the corner. Two elderly gentlemen  lurked in the recliners in the darkness, along with a lot of animal heads. They didn't look at us or acknowledge our entry.

I whispered, "Do you suppose they were 'grandfathered in'? The last residents?"
My significant other in classic form said, "I don't see anyone."

So a lady, not in uniform, gave us keys and sent us off. The living-eating room space remodel hadn't made it to the rest of the place. It still had railings on the walls so you could make it to your room and shiny squeeky clean linoleum floors. Thankfully no strange odors.

The hospital bed had been replaced by a double bed with quilts and flower sheets. Other than that it was the original room, but spotlessly clean. It had it's own private bath which was terrific and needed. Complete with loads of support bars and seats all over so you wouldn't fall. Not sure I've ever had such a safe shower.

Someone asked later,  Weren't you creeped out? Did you think of ghosts?

We really didn't but we laughed and thought up a lot of funny stories to go with our surroundings. It's one of those moments where you know it's going to be a good story even as you're experiencing it!

Message me and I'll see if I can find if it's still in business if you want to go have the experience!  Have you ever stayed anywhere unusual?

Odd sleeping arrangements will be a series in the blog for a bit. Enjoy.

Weirdest Places Ever Slept - Part 2

We've traveled for both personal and business reasons, profit and nonprofit. I'd say the majority more in the nonprofit lifestyle!

Haunted is easy, right? TV shows and spooks everywhere. We always joke about if Europe had those haunted Ghost shows they'd just walk down any random street with a camera and say ooo, I feel a cold spot since there've been people living, killing and dying in these towns for a long time.

In Hannibal, Missouri, the home of Mark Twain, we went for a Bed and Breakfast weekend. I think I got this free/discount as part of buying five boxes of Stash Tea. We get to this place and this little gruff man informs us he's watching it for the real owners. He's rough around the edges and maybe a little further.

He shows us around the victorian place, very cute, done nicely. Informs us we'll be staying in the seven bedroom mansion alone tonight since he doesn't live in, but he'll be back to make us pancakes in the morning. Turns out he's a former cop and is doing someone a favor.

On the way out, he says you're not afraid of ghosts, right? And he shows us a couple photos with fuzzy blobs in the stair well.  We look on in contemplation as we were supposed to do and he said a few folks had encountered it, but we'd be fine.

You gotta know, as a mystery writer, and a guy that likes to watch ghost shows on TV, we were absolutely thrilled. In a haunted Victorian Mansion of our own for the evening! And of course we acted like we were 12. We climbed all over the house looking at everything. In a dark corner where we couldn't find a light switch on the top floor was a door to the attic. Locked!!! Creepy, that's where they keep the ghost, I guess.

We settled down in the library (yes!) watched PBS mystery. Then my significant other much to my delight played Toccata and Fugue in D Minor on a small organ in the parlor(!) on a foot pump organ that of course had a delightfully rough sounds. My friend refers to this song as "Scary Frights" when she wants my man to play it. (Here's a posh version of it if you are curious.)

We slept well despite all the talk of ghosts, but my guy did say he heard things in the night -- maybe for my benefit since I slept like the dead and didn't notice. We explored Hannibal which besides having the haunts of Tom Sawyer-Huck Finn and the real life Twain is a delightful town with it's own oddities and delights to explore and find. You gotta go to the cave too if you go -- I don't remember the story exactly but it's got one of those someone got stuck in here spooky ones.

The Comfort Tour

So due to visa restrictions in Russia when we traveled there earlier this year, we had to sign up for a tour. We were coming off of a busy season of life and didn't want a high speed pressure filled event, so we signed up for "comfort class" tour.

The group was small and consisted of those who'd past 70  -- and us! I don't know what I expected but not the senior citizen tour.

An old trucker and his wife from Texas. He was rambunctious and couldn't hear and she repeated things for him. He had his wallet stolen at the Peter and Paul Fortress in the line for the turnstile, but other than pride and a few choice words, no damage done. He only brought cash in his wallet from the boat since he was worried about pickpockets. I had to wonder if you didn't bring your credit card on land to buy foreign things, why did you have it with you at all? It was a strategy that paid off for him though. 

Two delightful Vietnamese sisters retired and living in California had an amazing sense of humor and traveled without their significant others. One of them spilled her water bottle as we were getting on the mini-bus and was very adamant that everyone would know she didn't pee.

A retired Canadian couple born in the UK but living in Ottawa had very British accents and almost felt like a comic sketch of a British couple. He thought everywhere was unsafe but had had to travel with a "government office" during his working days. He fancied himself an expert on everything and liked waxing eloquent on it. He was a major pro-picture taker.

A quiet tall older couple from Minnesota or the Dakotas were a matched set of tallness.  She was friendly; he didn't talk. I found myself standing by him on the 5 minute escalator ride to the bottom of the St. Petersburg metro station. It was dramatically long. He was so overcome he spoke, "You'd have to leave for work early." Then at the bottom of the long escalator was a booth with a guard sitting in it. "That'd be easy work." I guess he thought about work.

There was one other couple and they were an exact match to this northern pair where one was friendly and one didn't talk. For the life of me I couldn't keep them straight. Except one fella wore a fishing cap.

While my mother has told me that I'm middle aged, I am not even beginning to be able to imagine the word retirement, so this was not my normal social set. It was almost like any group of quirky people but the quirks seem to be on steroids. Maybe our oddities increase as we get older? Is it harder to hold in our natural instincts of telling all you know or announcing loudly how bad the food or prices might be? I just don't know, not yet anyway.

 One thing that was unexpected for my husband and myself was that we felt responsible for all these people. I'm not sure if it is that we are used to living overseas and often are taking others around to see sites. We perhaps are in the habit of watching over folks. On this day, of course, we'd all paid dearly for a tour guide. She was a nice English teacher and probably around our age.

Nevertheless, my husband and I were tech support for the earphone technology, along with the tour guide, checking channels and volume buttons. We would hang back if we noticed one of the pack falling behind. We were cautioning them about pickpockets when we went into the metro station. We were definitely in mother hen mode even though it wasn't our job.

The cute thing is when we arrived late the first day (see earlier post) they were all worried if we were okay especially those from the north that must have skipped breakfast knowing the passport lines were long. It was our first time, how were we to know?

We compared notes with some younger people on the normal-non-comfort tours. It sounded miserable. They were road marched past a few more sites than us but never allowed to stop or ask questions. It sounded like a race to run past famous monuments, plus that tour was made up of three full sized bus loads of people and we were only 12. We could chat with our tour guide and ask for random potty stops while the big tour people did not have these luxuries. I was thrilled we had taken the comfort tour and had been able to enjoy the sites. To tell the truth, the comfort tour managed to wear me out anyway.

Telephone company induced culture shock

I had a guy who is living outside his own culture say he never had culture shock. I think he doesn't know the definition and has an ego that makes him think he's better if he doesn't have it. Maybe he is.

Having lived quite a number of years outside the USA, I would say culture shock can sneak up on you from very unexpected directions and maybe doesn't look like you'd think, even after years. After seven years in Spain, I define my culture shock moments by an unexpected and disproportional rage or reaction of some kind. It's not that the provoking event doesn't merit some reaction, it's just that proportionally culture shock jumps you several levels ahead of what it would be in your home culture.

Take Burger King for instance. The new one nearby has -- in English  -- on the seats "Have it your way" and yet a friend of mine who is particular about how she likes her food was told "no se puede." It cannot be. Yes, it's annoying and yes it's absurd but sometimes something simple can blow you out of the water. This same Burger King which has a permanent sign on it's pillar proclaiming "24 horas" told me two weeks ago at 11 am -- 24 hours yes, but not today, only on weekends.

The last two weeks I have been at conferences. The first week was here in Spain and people came from all over Europe. Now, I made the mistake of thinking these people are Europeans so they will not have a strong reaction to Spain.

What I discovered is that I am accustomed to the eccentricities of Spain and I have accepted many of them. I don't always like it but I'm used to it.  Now my northern European colleagues were suddenly asking why things were and I had no answer. I realized eventually that they were uncomfortable with the hotel changing the hours or the exact order of things or the details we had all agreed upon.

Now perhaps I have given up fighting these things since it takes so much energy or perhaps I have just accepted them as inevitable. I realized my colleagues were having a mild discomfort and confusion which is culture shock.

I know my significant other and I have each separately or occasionally together had moments of raging against something simple or terribly complicated, but invariably something we could not control.

Last Monday in fact after conference no. 1 we arrived home to discover our internet and cable tv service had quit.  We reset the system a couple times. Nothing.

In the USA the next step is make a phone call. We put that off until morning because we didn't have the energy. The next morning the automated system couldn't understand my man's Spanish. So I asked the admin assistant at work to call. She perhaps didn't realize I expected her to find the entire answer for me. She got me into a queue for English support and handed the phone back to me.

After being on hold for more than 30 minutes and passed between offices because they had me on hold for the wrong office, I found myself talking to someone in heavily accented English on perhaps the worst speaker phone I have ever heard. It was near impossible to understand anything. I fought thru the preliminaries of my phone number etc. I kept say I can't understand you. This degredated into him shouting at me and hanging up on me. I thought I was suppose to hang up on the cable company - at least I could picture that happening in the USA, but here they hung up on ME in frustration.

My Spanish speaking colleague said I should call and renounce the guy which is the word they use here for filing a complaint. It's a very expressive word that I like a lot and would like to try sometime, but I'd been passed around so much I had no idea who or what department I was talking to.

So I called back and then the automated system hung up on me. Then I called back and they tried to sell me something before they asked me my problem. Then I finally talked to someone in Spanish. I discovered embarrassingly that the payment didn't go thru as my account got too low. Okay, I can fix that. I only needed you to tell me.

I inquired two or three times in case my Spanish isn't working well on how to go about solving this. Do I need a number when I got to the bank and pay it? No. So then I repeat their expectations and what I should do a couple times. 

My man goes to the bank and there proceeds to get yelled at for not having the right information to pay this bill despite my close questioning of the phone company/cable company person.

Something that is simple or perhaps frustrating in the USA, turns into epic proportions in another culture. In the end, we figured out how to pay in another way online and service was restored but not before we'd had a war with our own emotions and the system. Often we just don't fight things because we just don't have the energy for it, but sometimes even in the same day, we have magical moments and love where we're living!

The art of procrastinating on food

Does everyone have major grocery purchasing aversions like I do? I've become the queen of substitutions for recipes -- assuming I even bother with a recipe for dinner -- in order to avoid stopping by a store.

In the last month, my significant other and I have achieved a new all time high or would it be stooped to a low(?) in avoiding food shopping. Today we had a conversation that went something like this:
I could eat a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.
Oh, you're out of cereal? Don't we have bread?
No.
Hey -- we have tostas. (Spanish pre-toasted crunchy bread slices. Think melba toast.)
Perfect, peanut butter, jelly, and tostas.
I've still got cereal.
Perfect.

This conversation took place on the way to get something out to eat for lunch, so the leftovers in the fridge could be lunch tomorrow.

Everyone does avoid the store on occasion (don't they?)  but we've really turned it into a game the last few weeks. I find great satisfaction in raiding a kitchen that seems to have nothing in it and coming up with dinner. Granted it's going to be dinner with not all the ingredients but dinner it will be.

It's funny there have been times in my life when this substitution or avoidance was due to financial constraints, but this time it's just shear stubbornness or laziness. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it's "vacation" month in Spain and everyone is either at the beach or wishing they were, so my own personal take is avoiding the reality of grocery carts.

Now, if I'm honest this month of avoiding the store has had to necessarily require visits to the corner shop in our village. It tries to do an impression of a grocery story but it really only has two aisles and a VERY limited selection. I would say most US convenience stores are probably on par with the selection. So we have picked up a couple more liters of shelf milk there, a couple lemons, some lunch meat and bread when we decided to have sandwiches all last weekend, uh toilet paper, and a few odds and ends. We also buy a lot of random things that just accumulate in the cabinets that have aided this creative non-food-buying marathon.

I know we are probably spending too much buying the odds and ends like this rather than breaking down and going to the big store, but we've been one-upping the sensation  that you need to go to the store for a couple weeks now.

So last Monday we were going to grill and had thawed all the meat in the freezer. A freak storm came up that was glorious and humid for a few hours of relief in in our high desert, but no grilling. Hmm, but we do need to eat. So eggs to the rescue -- we had a revuelto frozen package and voila dinner. Revuelto is a veg mix of some sort that you mix with eggs in Spain. Tuesday we grilled all the thawed meat and proceeded to eat it for the next couple days. Thursday on the way to work with the last two burgers in a bag for lunch we laughed and said okay we have to go tonight that was all fun but time is up.

Oops. It's a holiday and the grocery store near us is closed. Now we could have driven 30 minutes and shopped elsewhere, but not us. We decided to push it further. We discovered some forgotten fish fillets in the freezer which my hubby creatively turned into fish curry with some also forgotten cranberries.

Enough fish curry for lunch on Friday! I had a revelation that I still had a lemon and could reproduce that lemon pasta dish minus the chicken. I mean really if there's rice and pasta in the house, you can keep the game going awhile, right?

Saturday we walked to the corner pastelleria (pastry shop) and got goodies and a liter of milk for breakfast and we're (eureka!) invited to a barbecue for dinner. So we have not achieved this non-shopping streak without the help of others and restaurants to be fair.

Breakfast is going to be our undoing I think. It's going to have to be this week. Or we could make a couple more stops in the corner store to make it to a full month of non-shopping. Like I said, we've still got rice.

Self discovery oddly enough via Pinterest

I'm not an avid pinner. I have a few boards. One is for characters in my books, one is for books I like. One I called "Food I Will Likely Never Make" because I'm a big one for looking but not actually doing -- as I suspect a lot of pinterest is.

The food page is where I made my self discovery. I opened the board for the first time looking for something I thought I'd put there that maybe I would consider making depending on the ingredients. What I discovered is that I am obsessed by the same basic foods.

I have pinned several versions of macaroni and cheese. I know, what am I 12?! Oh comfort food, I love you.

I would have admitted before looking at this that I like cinnamon rolls. Based on the board, I have to say I REALLY like cinnamon rolls. The shameful revelation is that I've never made them and my vehement pinning of cinnamon rolls is the hunt for a recipe that will finally be easy enough that I will actually try. I often eat cinnamon rolls and think I want MORE cinnamon. It seems that I secretly dream of a day when I find a recipe that doesn't involve raising, waiting two hours and kneading etc. but allows for easy mix up dough and LOTS of cinnamon. Disclaimer: I'm living in a country that doesn't have cinnamon rolls (except for Starbucks) so this may be part of my obsession. 

I pin a lot of enchilada related things. Enchilada soup, avocado enchiladas, chicken for enchiladas in the crockpot. If I go to a Mexican restaurant, I often order burritos so this is intriguing that I pin enchilada related things. I do love anything in the Mexican/tex-mex genre. On a side note: I have NOT pinned the four billion versions of adding things to guacamole. Why mess with something that is pretty much perfect? Corn and goat cheese in my guac? No, thanks. But I digress.

I have pinned frozen desserts that don't require an ice cream maker. Granted I've at least chosen two different flavors but I see a pattern again. Few ingredients and a pan in the freezer. I'm looking for the easy dessert fix apparently.

Overnight French Toast is another biggie with me I hadn't realized. Not sure I'm a fan of french toast to the point of obsession and repeated pinning, but I think the truth is, I love the idea of breakfast just being there when I get up on weekends. So the idea of french toast in a crock pot that would be all gooey and ready is appealing. I tried a breakfast egg casserole in the crock pot a few months ago for dinner. Turns out my crock pot here in Spain cooks super hot and scorched the heck out of those eggs in about 6 hours instead of 8. So much for the overnight idea. Scorched french toast just isn't as appealing, nor is getting up at, say, 3 am to turn it on so it's not scorched by morning. This is probably not going to happen. Ever. Thanks goodness for my significant other making muffins, smoothies and such! whew.

A lot of my recipe pins are crock pot ones, as I'm apparently on the trail of homemade food that I don't have to spend much time making happen. I want to eat well I just don't want to participate much. It's another pattern I didn't know was there.

The one trait I'm a bit horrified to admit that the pattern shows is I want it easy and effortless. I wish I was one of those people that enjoys the process and the art. That would seem more noble. I just like to eat yummy-ness but prefer minimal effort which doesn't always go together I find.

I wonder if everyone could go to wherever they hoard recipes and find a pattern? Do you have any food obsessions that you KNOW about or will it come out in some public forum someday?

 

Patron huh?

I live in a village in Spain. Friday was patron saint day in the village. I had no idea what that meant. I came home from work and took the two Spanish dogs that live with me for a walk. Before we left, I noticed that little local cathedral bells were going off at an unusual time and at an unusual level of volume.

We walked toward our usual dirt track on the edge of town which is along a ridge of hills. The intensity of the bells from the cathedral was so loud that it bounced off the hills and sounded as if the hills actually were ringing bells. It was a startling acoustic sensation and I actually stopped to look in case there was something there.

Since the bells were continuing for such a long time, I decided to veer off our dirt path into the village main streets just to see if there was anything to see. I don't really know what patron saint day means but I figured something was going on nearby.

I reached a main roundabout that converges five roads and has flags from the Madrid region, the EU, the village, etc. As I crossed the big road on the red elevated crosswalk, I noticed that loads of people, surely the whole village, was walking uphill toward the cathedral. They were converging here at the round about taking the calle to the church. They were all dressed up, like wedding in Spain dressed up which is serious. Lots of high heels, dresses, the men all had on suits. My jeans and two dogs got some dirty looks from the older ladies, so I decided to walk across them and go another way rather than join the stream.

I worked my way uphill in the village thinking I'd get above the cathedral and look down on the crowd. Meanwhile the bells are still going. People were driving into the tiny side streets searching for parking and frantically putting on suit coats as they trotted down to the church. When you are from a village in Spain or your family is from a village, you come back for important days. Looks like Patron Saint day is one of them.

I was startled to see an older lady with a cane not dressed up and wandering around like me. I said the customary "hola" but as I chose my cross street she stopped me. Over the bells, she hollered in my ear about not wanting to go that way or I'd end up right in front of the entire "public." She asked me where I lived.

For some reason, I find this hard to explain in the village. Of course I know my street address, but people tend to say by areas. I can't seem to memorize mine - I've never seen it written out since it's sort of local slang. I always try to say I live by the park. The park is Arroyo de Tesoro. Treasure brook, I suppose would be a translation. I'd call it wild cat, ditch with water-sometimes park. Well, I managed to croak out, "treasure." She says where? I say "By the park, treasure park." I can really freeze up in Spanish and sound like an idiot. She got the idea and told me to go down and turn the other way. I obeyed. It seemed best even though I wanted to see what was going on.

I was by the stinky trashcans by the fish shop when another family crossed in front of me. One woman had a Muslim head covering and style of dress but could easily have been Spanish from her appearance. The rest of the family was in jeans and regular Spanish whatever Friday afternoon clothes. Then I noticed they're speaking Arabic. Okay, nobody in our village does that and we're a long way from downtown Madrid.

The bells stop and fire works start exploding up by the church. The two dogs start trotting and as the fireworks escalate, they are dragging me two-horse team style down the street toward home. We did make it safely if somewhat surreal-y.

I decided to walk to the grocery shop for some diet coke. At the round about by the stinky trash cans, I see that all these dressed up people I saw before are marching behind a procession statue of Jesus on the cross. So I walked up to where they are stopped by the bank. When I get close, they have stopped the procession and all the dressed up people who have babies are trying to balance them on the side of the statue platform and take their pictures. So this is really unusual for a girl from Kansas, and terribly interesting, so I whip out my camera and take pictures and then decide to do a video.

I'm panning the crowd and the music starts and I realize I'm filming my neighbors. Nice one. The weird American neighbor lady who doesn't know how to behave appropriately. How many times have you seen a neighbor going down the street and  you stop to take their picture? Hmmm. Going to chalk this up to a very interesting cultural learning day.

Can you see the babies being held up there on the right?

Travel food hoarder

When I travel, for some reason I go into a food hoarder mode. It's not really conscious but I accept every bit of food offered me and keep it in my bag. I seem to have some deep seated idea that I don't consciously acknowledge that I don't know where my next meal is coming from so I bettter be prepared.

I recently took a late flight out and felt queazy while I was waiting so I bought some crackers. The moderately sized packet went in the bag after I had a few. I always buy my survival water as soon as I'm thru security, so that goes in the bag too.

On that trip, I arrived at a hotel and they messed up my entry key and it was 1 a.m. and they felt bad so they gave me a candy bar. Normally I'm not much of a candy bar person, but into the bag it went. There were complimentary cookie packets in the room. I ate one to take some medicne - and you guessed it into the bag with the rest.

The next day I caught a ride with some local friends to a city where we were to attend meetings. The local guys brought no nourishment for the journey and were amazed as I kept pulling things out of my bag and had enough for all three of us to have snacks on the way.

On a flight last week, they gave out little single cookie packets and I ate one and saved one, because you never know. The girl next to me offered hers and I took them and squirreled them away. So I had cookies for my sojourn, but I'm still packing those cookies two flights later. You never know, especially these days, if the airline will starve you or when a strange nautious moment might hit.

I have never as far as I know been deprived in the food category. I have been deprived of transportation or experienced a lack of nearby stores, so maybe my hoarding comes from that fear of no access.

The funny thing is I often arrive home with my little treasure trove of food stuffs and if there is no food in the house they may get eaten that first day. It's still simple survivalmat that point. If they don't get eaten that first day home, the hoarded cookies, pretzels or yogurt will languish and likely get thrown away months later, and yet I hoard as I go.

Are you going to eat that packet of peanuts? (I don't like them much, but you never know.)