Carver Communications - Index

Carver Communications - 8.1.08 - Index

By Cathey Meyer
Thelma but Not Louise
In 1984, I celebrated my first
‘summer off’ as a school teacher and
headed west in a 1973 unairconditioned
Honda Civic with two college chums.
Amazingly, we tolerated one another on
the journey to sunny California (and
back), shared every conceivable small
space available to struggling school
teachers, stayed within our budget, suffered
no car trouble and survived all the
great fun of the Soviet-less Olympics of
1984. We were young and silly and had
no clue what the future held for our idealistic
assumptions of life well lived.
A decade later, in the summer of
1994, (and many summers off since
1984) I was a well traveled consultant,
enjoying the perks of billing for travel. I
flew to my destinations—including
sunny California that year—enjoyed
room service at beautiful hotels, shared
very little space with anyone else and
usually stayed a few days extra (at my
expense) to enjoy the sights of my destination.
I allowed room service to tend to
my housekeeping and restaurants to tend
to my culinary needs.
Though this is not the summer of
2004, we will skip ahead for the purpose
of my point. In 2008, after a wide selection
of career options since 1984, I am
once again celebrating my summer off
from the joys of forcing 12 year olds to
discover their inner writing voice and
pretend to enjoy the wonderful world of
words on paper, rather than text abbreviations
on their cell phones. Ironically, it
is a summer of Olympic competition and
sadly, I am not traveling to the smogfilled
arenas of Beijing, China and
though the Soviet Union has experienced
a rash of new name references, those
pesky Russians will give everyone a run
for their medals.
Not since the 1972 Meyer family
camping excursion to Big Bend National
Park have I ever considered returning to
the most basic elements of travel—camping.
But something unexplainable happened
after several glasses of wine last
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CO., CARPETS
655-8269
August 1, 2008 REAL ESTATE NEWSLINE 7
January and I thought the adventure of
traveling with my soon-to-be-formerbest-bud,
Thelma, in her newly purchased
Winnebago, would be a grand idea. I
now refer to the trek from central Texas,
through New Mexico into Colorado with
a destination of Wyoming and Montana
as the Myoming Adventure. Yes, in this,
the summer of the highest possible gasoline
prices in recorded history, as you
leisurely read this from the comfort of
your room-serviced hotel, I am currently
‘on the road’ exploring the vertical
options of my country 'tis of thee.
For the record, I have updated
my last will and testament, refilled my
prescription for Valium, touched up my
naturally blond roots and stocked my limited
storage space with a case of wine and
a case of beer. Thelma is fully aware of
my refusal to cook anything but popcorn
and coffee and I understand her enormous
Great Dane, Louise, gets to ride
shotgun. Just in case you never read from
me again, I just wanted to share with you
the preview of what future columns might
offer.
If you think you will be reading
about the breath-taking views of Big Sky
Country, think again and rent ‘The Horse
Whisperer’. I fear I may miss the majestic
views of amber waves of grain and
spacious skies seeking my reading glasses
under the seat to see the miniature road
markers on the map created for midgets
with x-ray vision. While our home on the
road is equipped with every conceivable
convenience of home, the On-Star feature
was not included. Thelma has every con-
fidence in road signs and the assumption
Louise has a bit of blood hound in her.
The selling point for me to travel
was glass of wine #3, the Direct TV
system and three HDTV screens built
into the RV. As a non-subscriber to cable
television, the idea of my own remote and
unlimited access to over 300 channels
blinded me to the minor fact that we very
well may be traveling to territories that
cannot receive the Direct TV satellite signal.
At the time of my irrational acceptance
to travel in a confined space for 21
days with Thelma and Louise was the
idea of unlimited reruns of That Girl and
other TV faves of the 1970’s-seemed like
a fair trade.
“What about the price of
gas?!!!” You wisely inquire. Excellent
question for which I have no answer.
Sometimes in life, one must just let go
and enjoy the ride. Yes, I would enjoy the
ride much more at $1.32 a gallon, but in
the big picture of life, what am I saving
my money for? As my attorney billed me
$250 per hour to review my assets and
offer free money and stuff to folks of
related bloodlines, I realized I did not
really want to leave all that much to any
of them. I decided it was time to invest
my assets in a few memories I will forget
as soon as the dementia settles in (not to
mention the can of Grizzly Bear Spray I
just purchased).
So dear readers, if I make it back
from the great escape of 08, I will dutifully
share with you the observations of
“I didn’t see that one coming . . . .”
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