Silver Linings

I forgot to write my blog this morning. It was bound to happen sooner or later, especially with all the packing, unpacking, loading, unloading, checking in and checking out. This morning wasn't particularly challenging; I just got distracted by the process of getting up, having coffee, looking for a hotel for tonight, and getting underway.

Yesterday was relatively uneventful. We drove down the coast to Eureka, California past the redwoods and "Trees of Mystery" then turned east and headed inland through the Shasta National Forest. At Redding we turned south down the I-5 but almost immediately got off onto the old Golden State Highway (Highway 99) through Chico and down on to Sacramento.

Ricky and I went for dinner at a Mexican place in Old Sacramento and, in one of the small shops in this tourist area, purchased a couple of postcards which we seem to have promptly misplaced. I was going to send one to Emma and another to Anisa, both of whom have asked that I send something from somewhere along the way.

After dinner, Ricky wanted to go to WalMart to buy a local phone. I wanted to stay out for the night. So we set each other free. Our hotel was right next to Old Sacramento, only separated by the freeway underpass and a couple of city blocks, well lit and well sidewalked. I felt I could handle it. Rick needed some time away to get his stuff done, and more likely time away from me. I am okay with that; looking after me is not yet a full time job. So off he went on his errands, and off I went in search of trouble.

Unfortunately I was completely unable to get into any real mischief. What I did find was that Fannie Ann's, a favourite for my brother Peter, has stairs. So it was out. I rolled down the plank boardwalk, up and down the neatly placed wheelchair ramps, across the streets to find O'Malley's, a purportedly Irish pub. It was good. They had Murphy's, so I was in.

As I sat there listening to the bartender chat with a few of the regulars, one of them said that a friend of his had been diagnosed with ALS. Then the bartender said a friend of his also had been diagnosed with ALS. So me, never being shy about things, said "Hey. Me too!" Then the conversation got interesting. I answered a lot of questions and filled them in on what they might expect to see as things progressed for their respective friends.

It wasn't all morose; I can crack the odd joke now and then. Once they relaxed the whole evening got rather jovial. We had fun. Then the time came to pay up. My bill came to $8.00! "What gives?", I said to the bartender. After all, I had had more than a few beers. He said "The bar bought you one and so did the guy beside you."

Silver linings!