LadyZsMisadventures

Strong Woman don’t have attitudes, we have standards.
Marilyn Monroe

Besides being an ASU fanatic, I get carried away with Christmas too. I can never get enough of the twinkling lights, colorful decorations, and homemade treats. I enjoy making cookies with my mom from recipes that have been passed down for generations. I have made gingerbread houses with my dad for 8 years running. Most importantly my dad has read to me, The Night Before Christmas, every year for the past 33 years before I go to bed on Christmas Eve.

This year was a tad different. There were sparkling lights but the cookies were a triumphant failure because of our mismeasurements. The cookie cooking results were so bad we had to laugh. This was the first Christmas we shouldn’t hug those we love because we are still battling an enemy we cannot see. Despite the setbacks, we were able to make some lasting memories that will be talked about for years to come, such as the smile on my grandmother’s face when I gave her a mug telling her how amazing she was (In Trump speak). When she turned the mug around and saw her most unfavorable President’s orange face, her smile turned to disdain. As the color drained from her face, she looked at me with a “What the heck were you thinking” grimace. Her face blushed again with color when I handed her a two-pound sledgehammer that would allow her to smash her greatest nightmare to smithereens. Grannies emotional roller coaster ended on a real high note when she saw the words “iRobot Roomba” on the last present she opened. Now she could sit comfortably in her favorite chair and watch while her room is vacuumed daily.

My dad’s gift this year shows just how much he understands and encourages my whimsicality. Last year it was the signed football from the UArizona and ASU Territorial Cup which ASU won 41-34 in 2012. Not the 70-7 blowout of 2020, but still a great triumph. This year he bought me a plot of land in Aberdeenshire, Scotland which, in turn, not only make me a land baroness, but also, gives me the title of Lady Linzie Claire Melgreen. While the parcel helps preserve a wildlife sanctuary, it gives me a great excuse to get vintaged dressed and visit my small principality in Scotland. I will invite all my friends, followers, and family to come along and enjoy a memorable soiree under the Scottish stars. I will provide food, drink, and a bagpipe conga line. For my male friends please visithttps://www.thescotlandkiltcompany.co.uk/ for proper evening attire. After sweeping away 2020 at midnight, an evening with you in Scotland will be a welcomed relief.

Moral: 1) Even in the darkest of times there can be a sliver of light one can hold onto, for me, that sliver of light is the love of my parents. 2) Memories are gifts that keep on giving.

Please feel free to share your stories and comments below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com.

The Win of A Lifetime

You play to win the game.
Herm Edwards

I am an Arizona State University (ASU) Sun Devil inside and out! I bleed maroon and gold. ASU vs UArizona (A.K.A U of Eh or Truck-Stop U) is the longest-running college rivalry. As a die-hard, I take the sacred vow to never spend a night in Tucson let alone hold hands with someone in a red and blue jersey. I would not date a Wildcat if he were the last breathing man on earth. The man for me will find joy and excitement in my cheering on the fearless Sun Devils. He will understand that a Sun Devil keeps fighting till the very end and, regardless of the score, remains focused on creating mayhem until the last second.

The rivalry that makes the Territorial Cup a must win game that comes with a year’s worth of bragging rights all started on Thanksgiving Day in 1899 at Carrillo Gardens in Tucson, Arizona. In front of 300 passionate fans, two teams met for the first ‘Duel in the Desert’. The devotees UArizona, were drowned out by the screams and cheers created by the students who railroaded over from the Territorial Normal School in Tempe (now known as Arizona State University) to play in their first conference championship and to determine the best football team in Arizona. The Arizona Normal School Normals won 11-2. While I am proud of their win, I am taken aback by their choice of team nicknames ….. the Normals. I am relieved we are now known as the Sun Devils and have the best college mascot, Sparky.

Both schools have played each other sporadically since then, making it the longest rivalry in college football. In the 1950s, things really heated up when the Normals, because of its growing enrollment, wanted to pass proposition 200 to become a University. UArizona, however, had other ideas. Members of the UArizona football team poured gasoline and burned “No 200” onto the Normal football field, which had then progressed to being labeled the Arizona Normal Teachers College. In 1958 the first rivalry game between the two “Universities”, ASU demolished UArizona 47-0 while Sparky, the new Sun Devil mascot, cheered wildly with the crowd. As alumni, we are forever grateful to the Sun Devil legendary coach, Frank Kush, Grady Gammage, and the thousands of students for laying the groundwork and fighting to become, not only, a university, but also, today’s largest university enrollment in the country.

Not even COVID was going to keep my dad and me from getting into the spirit as we watched Friday’s game from the safety of our living room. Keeping with tradition and expectations, we sang the ASU Fight Song as we watched Sparky stomped the UArizona bus at the start of the game on my laptop. We chanted, cheered, and jeered in our brightly colored maroon and gold get-ups loud enough to let UArizona fans in our neighborhood know that the Territorial Cup inscribed “Arizona Foot Ball League Championship 1899 Normal” will remain in Tempe for the 4th year in a row.

We made that more than clear by coming away with a 70-7 win. The highest-scoring game and longest winning streak in the Territorial Cup started off with a 100-yard touchdown on the kickoff. Within 56 seconds we were up 14-0. It was all Devils after that. UArizona scored as many points as they fumbled. We did what is needed in any football game, cash in on all the mistakes and keep the foot on the gas pedal. I have never screamed and shouted so loud. The only thing that would have made it better would have been to be seated in a packed UArizona stadium and to see the tear-streaked faces of those pitiful kitty fans shuffling out of the stadium after the third quarter after the Devils scored 21 points in each of the first three quarters. Even the few cardboard cutouts that littered their stadium looked pitiful. If there was ever a game to watch this was it. Last year my dad and I were on TV cheering our Devils to victory, this year we were jumping up and down in front of the TV watching the takedown of a lifetime. Coach Herm said before the game that he wanted the team to make a memory, boy did they ever. One I will never forget in my lifetime nor will my future family.

Moral: 1) Fear the Fork. 2) Expect the Unexpected. 3) Make memories.

Please feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com to share your favorite memories and it may be used in a future blog.

You put my what where?

Do you have those people that you would go anywhere with unconditionally. Like they could say “Let’s go check out that dumpster” and you’d be like “I’m in.”
Anonymous

Have you ever had a moment where you are looking for something that seems to have vanished from where it was just minutes before? When you finally give up looking and ask if anyone saw it, you are told “Oh that, I threw it away.”

My fondest memory of this was when a friend and I were throwing out her recycling trash at our office because she could not find the recycling bin that was at her apartment. Once finished, I asked if she could take me to Wells Fargo to cash a check I had just received in the mail. She agreed. Once in her car my throat swelled up in panic because I could not find the envelope that I had placed on the passenger seat prior to helping her unload the car of 20+ recyclable cardboard boxes that had been taking up the majority of the space in her car. As we started to drive a way I asked if she could take me to my apartment to get the check as I could not find it in the car. Her face got white as she looked at me and told me she may have thrown it in the recycling bin due to being in the rhythm of cleaning out her car. She immediately turned around and stopped in front our office building recycling dumpster.

It was then that I learned that dumpster diving is harder than it looks. I jumped, but was unable to reach the edge so I could tumble in. My friend cupped her hands for a foot hold and catapulted me into the trash. Once in face down, I was grateful that this wasn’t the fly infested general trash dumpster. I was happy also that the envelope was white because it was easily spotted against all the brown boxes we deposited.

Getting out was another adventure. When I could finally get into a standing position, every step was a sinking compaction maneuver that barely got my head above the edge of the dumpster. I had to break down the boxes and pile the flattened cardboard to make a step to where I was waist high at the edge. Eventually, I was able to hang over the edge and have my friend pull me out.

Today my friend’s washer was on the fritz, so with the intention to bring her laundry to my place, she piled her clothes in a trash bag and set it outside the back door. After a few other odd chores, she rounded up her children’s dirty clothes and headed out the door. Her bag of clothes was missing. She checked outside the front door and then all the rooms in the house. When she finally asked, her teenage son, he admitted throwing the bag in the dumpster. It was the first time, she believed, that he took something to the dumpster without being told. She gagged as she told me what real dumpster diving was like.

Moral: 1) Some things we throw away, we will wish we hadn’t. 2) Children help in mysterious ways.

Feel free to comment below or leave a message below and your story may be used in a future blog. Please feel free to purchase your copy of Even Beavers Can Be Heroes for the loved ones on your Christmas list this year at https://zsgvingbooks.com/.

The Great Escape

A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.
Groucho Marx

I am one of the lucky ones who has never stayed a night in a hospital because I was sick or had surgery. I have been rushed to the hospital after I got hit by a car at the age of seven and later after I had my first seizure, but they did not require overnight stays. My overnighters to date have been for intensive medical testing where they try to trigger a seizure to find out what part of the brain is misfiring. The only fun story I have in the hospital is when I was in the shower and the nurse came in and shut it down. “You are a risk for falls. No shower,” she politely said. “I’ll get your bed bath stuff.” My dad’s hospital stays, on the other hand, are another story.

When he goes to the hospital there is no telling what will happen or how long he may have to stay. One time with a big toe infection, the doctor put a pair of scissors thru his toe as noted in an early post. The scissors were used to insert a drain tube. The infection was aggressive, and he had to have big Larry, the piggy that went to market, removed. The next was the result of cutting his hand on his margarita blender blade. He suggested to the doctor that he did not need to be hospitalized; he could wheel around the IV stand at work as he had done before. Since that ended in amputation, the doctor suggested that hospitalization might produce a better outcome. Dad failed to counter the argument and checked in. When I went to visit, it was easy to spot his room in the cul de sac of doors in the circular pod. His door was the only one open and without a gun totting guard standing at attention. When I asked the doctor about the setup, he laughed and responded the hospital was full and the only bed they had available was in the psych ward. The doctor who laughed was also the same doctor while getting his MD degree thought it would be fun to get a master’s degree in physics.

This last time was during COVID when he needed to have the distal phalange of his little piggy that liked roast beef removed due to an infection. Due to COVID protocol, he was not allowed any visitors or changes of clothes. We tried to sneak dad some clean underwear in when he needed additional insulin pump supplies, but they had us dump our paper bag into their see-through plastic bag. Caught, they gave me a surgical glove to retrieve the tidy whities.

Hospitals have their own slow-moving schedules where even discharges seem to take forever. Dressed and ready to go, the discharge doctor said not so fast. He wanted dad to see the physical therapist when he made his rounds and then he could go. Not having the faintest idea when the therapist would appear or why he would need to see a physical therapist he decided to ask his nurse. She wasn’t sure. A few moments later, a volunteer with a wheelchair appeared. Dad jumped in and said, “Let’s go.” Halfway down the hallway dad spotted the discharge doctor talking with his nurse. Dad scrunched down behind my borrowed, flowered bag to hide and yelled back to the young volunteer, “Hang a right and let’s get out of here.” The teenaged wheelchair driver, fulfilling a school mandated volunteer program, enjoyed the intrigue and sped down side halls, through the surgery prep room, and out the back door. Freedom and a memorable misadventure.

Moral: 1) Every day is a true adventure. 2) Nurses are true heroes.

Please feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com. Your story ma be featured on a future blog.

A First Of Many

I don’t think of myself as giving interviews. I just have conversations. That gets me in trouble.
Charles Barkley

On November 9, 2020, a zoom interview I did was posted on YouTube. It was the first time I was involved in an interview that was not about me trying to find tactful ways of saying, “You would be a fool not to hire me.” I was nervous. I listen to enough podcasts to know anything can happen during a taped conversation. Luckily, I have attended enough zoom meetings for work to know that the background can add or distract from the conversations and to try to look at the camera and not the screen.

I wasted no time getting the backdrop set up. I am fortunate to have creative parents who were able to make it look like a festive reading nook that I might have if my book were to take off and I did readings around the world from the comfort of my living room. My dad even thought to put the computer on a box to help raise it up to eye level. He then put a tablecloth over a few more empty boxes to better display my book in the background.

I have known Maria Clark, the interviewer, for some time. She organized a Feeding the Hungry campaign where I helped box up care packages, worked with my dad, and later sold us our home. She is an amazingly positive-outlook woman. I was honored when she wanted to do a segment on me and my book, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes, for her podcast. It never crossed my mind that someone might ask to interview me about it. Again, I was worried about appearing as a doofus, but knowing Maria, eased some of the tension. I am glad I participated.

I wanted to do something more in life than volunteering for a myriad of causes. Publishing the book and giving one with the profits for every book sold to a child in foster care is a gratifying way to do. So far 80 books have been donated, in the name of book buyers, to our children in foster care. Some have been sent to Child Safety Offices both in Show Low, where I started my social work career, and to our central Phoenix offices. I have also sent a box full to Together We Rise to be placed in the duffel bags they help supply to children who enter foster care. Thank you to all who have bought a book and have contributed to not only making one of my dreams come true, but also helping provide hope, love, and encouragement to those in foster care.

We truly are all interconnected in making our communities better. Too many or our children have been neglected and abused. If you would like a book for your children or relatives this holiday season, please feel free to go to https://zsgvingbooks.com/. Each book is signed and comes with a personalized bookmark with the name entered in the notes section during purchasing. A book will be donated in the name you provide to a child in foster care. If you don’t live in the states, don’t worry, I have and am prepared to mail this book across the globe. Any questions feel free to email zsgivingbooks@gmail.com.

Moral: 1) zoom interviews are not as easy as they seem. 2) Being afraid is normal, but don’t let it stop you from doing something that means something to you.

Please feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com. Your stories may end up featured in a future blog.

Let Hope Ring

There can be no daily democracy without daily citizenship.
Ralph Nadar

Hope is defined in Wikipedia as “an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one’s life or the world at large. As a verb, its definitions include: “expect with confidence” and “to cherish a desire with anticipation.”

Over the last four years, I am sad to say that I have lost some hope and often wondered where compassion, empathy, and love has gone. I have spent countless nights in tears grieving the losses of innocent souls with no end in sight. I have hoped that our government would step up to the challenge and demonstrate that human lives are not disposable. I was faced with the stark reality that my life was irrelevant to those who swear an oath to be leaders and protectors of us all. Instead, science and truth were replaced with lies and hypocrisy. Masks can help stop the spread of the deadliest disease America has ever encountered leaving over 238 thousand plus dead. More deaths and more cases than any other country in the world. No action made America number one for deaths and counting. Our leaders never lead by example, never mandated masks and repeatedly lied about the medical reality the country faced. As the numbers rise and a record number of cases are reached every day, doctors and nurses who are literally giving their lives for this country are thrown under the bus. They are reported to be making money off listing deaths as covid related. Every time I hear that statement, the thought of hope and unity crumbles a bit more into oblivion, dividing the country even more.

I was heartbroken to see racism, sexism, and mass hatred for so many on display at levels I had never experienced but knew exists. It was as though I was living in a nightmare I could never wake up from. I never had time to relax because I was fearful of what would happen to my rights as a woman and the rights of those around me. I often wept in my mother’s arms telling her “I am too young to die” because I knew if preexisting conditions were scrubbed off the board which has been a dream of those in charge for over 4 years, was coming desperately close to being a reality. I could not afford to not have my diabetic supplies and seizure medication not covered by my insurance. I could not have that happen to my dad or anyone else. When a tax break for corporations that previously insured all of their workers was more important than improving our health care system, I felt despair and uncertainty about what my future held.

However, when I heard the news that a woman VP who happens to be African American, Indian, and from a family of immigrants was selected along with a man who knows the reality of sickness and loss, who has poise, experience, and a heart for serving the American people and who will bring compassion, empathy, truth, and science back into the People’s House, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. I cried tears of joy because I dared to hope again. I felt hope in my fellow Americans that we can prevail when we unite. I was hopeful that despite our differences we could find common ground to show that deep down we are a kind, loving, compassionate, and soulful nation. We remember where we came from and what we stand for: Moral courage, inclusiveness, freedom of the press, freedom of speech, opportunity, and tolerance. We may not always agree with each other, but I was starting to feel hopeful that we were working on making changes towards being more tolerant and respectful of one another. I know that Hope is usually a dream, but today of all days, I will bask in it and hold strong to it. Without hope, there is no future.

Moral: 1) Every vote counts. 2) Work hard every day. 3) Your life is essential, and our leaders should do all that is necessary to protect it.

Thank you for reading my blog. I understand it may offend some, but just know that I work daily with the developmentally disabled who need the government’s help to survive and your understanding and support. Feel free to leave a comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.

Happy Halloween

Don’t ever be ashamed of liking the little things that make your little heart happy.
Elizabeth Gilbert

I just wanted to start out by saying I got the website https://zsgvingbooks.com/ to buy a signed copy of Even Beavers Can Be Heroes along with a personalized bookmark up and running. You can click on the top of the page where it says “Purchase Even Beavers Can Be Heroes” to go right to the site. or click the link above. Please make sure to note the name requested for the bookmark at check out. Thanks in advance for your contribution to helping children in foster care.

I hope everyone had a safe and joyful Halloween yesterday. I was actually surprised we had more children last night than in the past 5 years. I guess the word got out there may be stock piles of candy that may go to waste. This week there will not be a traditional blog as I have been focusing my efforts on book marketing and getting the word out to Vote. Remember Tuesday, Nov. 3rd is election day in The United States, if you haven’t voted make it a priority to do so. With that I wish everyone a stress free Sunday.

Moral: 1.) It is better to give than to receive. 2.) Sometimes your voice is loudest when completing simple actions.

Please feel free to comment or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com with any stories or questions. stay Whimsical.

Website Insight

A Person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.
Albert Einstein

I have created one plug and play website and that is this one that you are currently looking at. I did some computer programming in junior high: creating a video game with our teacher providing step by step instructions and successfully completed an experiment with coding that directed a mouse to find the cheese. With that sketchy background, I thought I could create a website for my new book, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes, without any issues.

Website creation, I can now convey, is a lot harder than I expected. I first opened the website on WordPress due to already utilizing it for this blog. I felt it would be a good idea to keep the sites on the same form to make them both easier to monitor and update as needed. I was feeling pretty good about how quickly I breezed through each step. I found a name, updated the theme I had chosen to suit my design criteria. I then uploaded the product. I was feeling confident as I entered setting up the point of sale section.

As I was riding my computer savvy high and dusting the “Go me” off my shoulder, I decided to test purchasing the book. My confidence took flight when I saw that after hitting the ‘Add to Cart’ button, a little 1 appeared in my grocery basket. However, when I boldly clicked on the ‘buy’ button, I was alarmed to see that I had purchased a 2-dollar recipe for Guacamole dip. Are you kidding me? First, I do not like the looks of Guacamole as it reminds me of baby dribble. Second, I don’t cook, don’t prepare party food and, therefore, have no use for recipes. I realized after struggling to cancel my own order on my own site that this was more than I could handle, and I needed professional advice.

I was told to use E-Commerce because it was super friendly. I tried but I had unknown issues using a Gmail account for my email despite the site suggesting I purchase G-Suite. I have since gone to Shopify. I have found the website to be easy to manage except for one issue: Any advice on how to solicit information from a buyer on a Shopify website would be much appreciated. I want to be able to: Give a personalize bookmark (which may be a child’s name for whom they are purchasing the book).

Hopefully, by the end of next week, I can have it figured out and begin promoting the new and improved site. Sorry, no guacamole recipes are needed.

Moral: 1) Trying new things can be difficult the first time around, but don’t give up. 2) Always test before unveiling; thinking something should work and it actually working are two different things.

Thank you for following zsmisadventures.com. Feel free to comment and or email zsmsadventures@gmail.com and your stories may appear in future blogs.

Gone Fishing

If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles.
Doug Larson

Fishing is a great way to relax and be a part and in awe of nature’s beauty. It also offers a unique perspective of the distinctive humor that takes place in the wilderness. For example, the first time I went fishing the only thing I hooked was my nose. It was not funny then, but the memory is unique and whimsically me. I have been lucky enough on a few occasions to catch fish when no one thought there were any in a shallow stream of river rock. I even have caught the same fish twice. Most of the time though, I just sit with my pole in the water taking in the sunshine and daydreaming of catching the big one.

I may not always catch a fish, but I do enjoy some laughter on almost every excursion. The other day my dad and I went fishing. While not even getting a nibble, I did witness sheer determination and failure for one well-dressed fisherman and the precision of real professionals. We sat on a shady outcropping of rock that gave a clear view of the busy boat dock and the humor associated with launching a watercraft.

On a lake where for years we saw few kayaks, there must have been 30 big and small groups take to the water. Most were there for the exercise and to enjoy the changing color of the forest in fall as they paddled off without fishing poles. We watched a middle-aged lady back her Volvo down the boat ramp and stop several yards from the waters edge. As she got out of her car, a gentleman in a pickup truck appeared and was slowing moving down the embankment next to her. She paused for safety concerns and only started unstrapping her roof top mounted kayak as his truck backed into the water. As she walked toward the back of her car to manage the last strap, the truck was almost up to the bumper in the water. The driver briefly hit the gas pedal which launched the kayak out of the truck bed into the water. A rope tied to the truck’s bumper and the bow of the kayak stopped its progress away from shore. When it stopped, the driver then hit the gas again which propelled the kayak forward where it stopped on the ramp half in and half out of the water. As the gentleman got out of his truck to untie the kayak, the lady yelled for all to hear, “Cheater.” He returned after parking his truck, climbed in his water buggy and when he was afloat, whistled once and a terrier appeared splashing into the water and jumped on board. As he paddled away from shore, our lady friend paused from loading water bottles onto her craft and watched a real professional move out of sight.

A short time later, we saw a customized mini Mazda Miata convertible backing down the ramp with a boat trailer that was twice as long as the car. It was a compelling sight. It stopped 5 feet from the water, and we watched an older gentleman unwind himself out of the car. The man was 6’5, 6’8 with his fishing hat on. He walked back and looked at the situation, then scrunched himself back into the car. He backed the car just short of the water and crawled out again to check his progress. The trailer was too far into the water for him to reach the crank that held the boat in place without him getting wet, so he got back in the car and moved 3 foot forward. He unscrewed himself out of the car again and was able to unhook the tiedown. So, he slowly wiggled himself back into the car and backed up until the tires were wet. This time after inching out of his ride, he walked around the front of the car and onto the dock that boaters used to tie down their vessel while they parked their trailer. Our smartly dressed super tall gentleman was attempting to unstrap the bright red tiedown that held the back of the boat onto the trailer. After several failed attempts, he gave up and walked back to his miniature ride, climbed in, and moved the boat forward out of the water. He again climbed out of the car and seeing that the bright red tiedowns were still over water, he reentered and moved a few feet forward again. This effort was successful. He unstrapped the boat which now sat freely balanced on the trailer. He tied a long rope to the bow, put the top down on his custom ride, held his hand with the rope high as he backed into the water and then gassed his little car forward. Unlike the kayak that shot out of the pickup and into the water, our gentleman’s boat teetered somewhat askew on the back edge of the trailer. Exiting his car and surveying the situation, he climbed onto the trailer and tried to push the boat into the water. When that failed, he settled on just straightening it out on the back of the trailer. He climbed back into the car, drove into the water and floored the car again. This time it entered the water with some speed and in a flash as the slack in the rope disappeared a cry of pain and agony echoed through the trees to our little outcropping of rock. I am not sure of the physics but when a boat is going 10 miles an hour West and a car is going 20 miles per hour East and your arm which is holding the rope to stop all motion is going to feel some muscular stress. Again, I don’t know the physics, but paramedics were required. They drove away leaving the customized Mazda Miata and trailer halfway up the boat ramp and the freshly launched boat tied to the dock.

Moral: 1. There is more to fishing than the fish. 2. Think before you launch.

Thank you for following zsmisadventures and feel free to comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.

Lost Is My Middle Name

We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.
Ray Bradbury

I tend to get my left and right mixed up if I am facing towards you instead of standing next to you. I tend to downplay the distance between two points. I have a hard time recognizing patterns in my head, for example, is that tree 50 or 100 feet away. I don’t go by the names of streets, but by the surrounding buildings. If a person asks directions, I might say, “Go down this street to the brown two story building, turn right and drive pretty far until you pass the second Starbucks and your street is just past that a bit.” My friends don’t ask twice. I don’t know and probably don’t care where North is. I go by everything in front of me being North and when I turn that is my new North. My brothers have given up on, “The Sun rises in the East and sets in the West.” When the sun is right overhead, I’m probably just as right as they are. I do remember where I am supposed to be going and can always ask Siri or my dad how to get there. My dad thinks he can figure out where to go without using a map. Sometimes, however, like this weekend he could not remember where we were even trying to go. This predicament may be foreign to most, so let me explain.

We went to Show Low, Arizona to deliver copies of my book to the Department of Child Safety Office. It is a scenic 3-hour drive from Phoenix to this beautifully wooded mountain community where I started working with neglected and abused children. Many of my kids were in foster care. This is where I first saw children carrying all their belongs in a paper shopping bag. It was this vivid memory that inspired writing the book. I wanted them to have more than a bag of clothes to their name and to start this new journey with the thought that living with this family can be a learning experience. I felt that it was appropriate to drop the first donation of books off there because without their Program Manager taking a chance on a new college grad, I don’t think the book would have ever been published.

While in Show Low, my parents and I decided to stay a few days to enjoy the cool weather and do a little fishing. Internet shopping for a cabin was fruitless. Most had been reserved months ago. Dad’s second search looked for a motel set back in the trees rather than surrounded by shopping centers along the main roads. He booked one with a balcony facing a canopy of trees and a stream. Sometime later the next night, he checked the confirmation and found his great deal was for 12 nights and near $3000.00. Luckily, he was able to cancel without penalty and started a new search. Most places were booked but he found a place sans balcony but in the trees on a highly advertised booking site. Crisis averted or so we thought.

After visiting my old office and having a little book ceremony, we jumped in the car as my mom asked, “Which hotel are we staying in?” Dad thought nothing of it as he had a new app that stored all the information. He had already logged in once at home with the 12-digit confirmation code thus it should only take a second to pull it up. The highly advertised booking site ad said, “Everything you need right in your pocket.” Unfortunately, it was wrong. When he went to log in again it asked for the 12-digit confirmation number, which he didn’t have. He didn’t get an email confirmation as it was saved to the app. He noted to me, who carries all virtual tickets and confirmation info on my phone, that this was the first time he didn’t print out the confirmation sheet. The highly advertised booking site ad even promoted their app as saving the environment. Dad polluted the environment more by driving all over Show Low checking to see if he had booked a room there then if he had just printed out one sheet of paper. We found the hotel with the balcony facing the canopy of trees and stream and they verified that dad cancelled 3000 dollars of nights. We telephoned twenty to thirty places before all the phones where dead. Dad recognized the green tree sign from the greatest booking site on earth from a mile away or maybe 100 yards away. Mom and I waited in the car for the fifth and final time. Our misadventures are never dull.

Moral: 1) Never completely trust technology. 2) Always print confirmation information and/ or share that information with others. 3) Enjoy the whimsical stories that arise as it is what makes time spent together that much greater.