The Sandcastle

I function best if I sleep nine hours a night. But I am a night owl. So, if I stay up until two o’clock like I did this morning that means I will have my best day if I sleep until eleven o’clock. But…

A day or two ago Dave asked a neighbor about the process of getting propane here. Do they deliver to motorhomes or do we need to drive somewhere? I had seen a propane truck driving through the park but Dave doubted we could just flag him down. But, Paul said yes we could. We could also call to schedule a delivery but there’s an extra charge for that. Well, Paul must have told the driver we inquired because about nine-thirty this morning: boom, boom, boom. The propane guy was at our door wanting to know if we wanted some. So Dave bought propane and I went back to sleep.

Less than an hour later I was awakened by people talking right outside my bedroom window. Then our front door slammed again. So, I got up and inquired. There are people out there surveying the lot lines.

So, I surrendered. I am up. But I am not awake.

TTYL,

Linda

ps. Just as I was posting that the Schwan’s truck driver stopped to see if we wanted anything even though we hadn’t ordered for today’s delivery. No one understands us night owls need to sleep in. But, we now have steaks and wild Alaskan salmon filets in our freezer so at least there’s some payoff for not being allowed to finish sleeping this morning.

The other day I had to give a delivery driver instructions on how to find our site in the park. Fortunately, I had already been thinking about how to tell friends and family how to find us so he got here just fine. It doesn’t always work that way, though.

I once had a friend give me directions to her house but she forgot to tell me I needed to jog left at one point to end up on her street. She was thrilled when I actually arrived. Because I had been up that street before to a different destination I automatically took that jog. It doesn’t always work that way, either.

My favorite story about giving directions happen to a bunch of computer programmers. They participated in a team building exercise where they were to write direction for making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They were told the table held a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly, a plate, and a knife.

We could all do that, right? Try it. I’ll wait for you.

Hmm. Hmm.

La la.

Dum diddly dum.

Ready? Let’s see what happened.

One employee was chosen to pretend to be a computer and follow the directions exactly as written.

One set said remove two slices of bread from the loaf. The computer could not do it. The loaf had no opening through which to remove the bread.

Another set got the bread open OK and put the slices on a plate. Then it said to pick up the jar of peanut butter and open it then pick up the knife. Couldn’t do it. Jar in one hand, lid in the other, no hand available to pick up the knife.

Another set gave all the correct instructions right up through spreading the peanut butter on the bread and setting everything down. Then it said repeat the steps that gave instructions for the peanut butter except using the jelly. So the computer picked up the jelly, opened it, put the lid down, picked up the knife, used the knife to get some jelly, spread it on the bread and set everything down. Then it picked up the jelly and stopped. It was trying to repeat the directions from the peanut butter section but there was no lid to remove. Every computer programmer will tell you a repeat command needs to be followed by a stop command.

So how did you do with your instructions?

What else would you like to give us directions for doing?

TTYL,

Linda

My Dad took me on my very first RV trip when I was ten years old. He rented a fold up trailer that had six bunks in it and we went with two other families to Giants City State Park. It rained all weekend but we kids didn’t care.

Many years later, he and my step-mom bought a class c motorhome and went traveling.

Thanks, Dad, for teaching me about this wonderful life Dave and I are now living.

TTYL,

Linda

In this morning’s dream I was part of a small group of Americans chosen to help foreigners learn to speak English. The method of doing that was to assign us a very small cabin-type room in which we were to complete a project as a group. We had a few foreigners assigned to us and we began work on our project with everyone making an effort to speak clear English while doing so. As we proceeded, one by one more foreigners were added to our group making the room very crowded. Eventually, they began speaking among themselves in other languages which none of us Americans understood. Finally, I became exasperated and demanded to know if they had not come to this project to learn to speak English. “No,” one replied. “We already know how to speak English. We came here to learn to speak American.” Finally, the overcrowding of our room became unbearable and we decided to break into two smaller groups. We intended that some of the Americans should be part of each group but several of the foreigners decided to stay together to become their own group without the interference of the Americans.

That dream set me to thinking about language and it’s impact on belonging. We belong to many groups. Our primary group speaks RVing. The members of the group we met with last night speak railroading. When we meet with Dave’s former coworkers they speak computers. I know a few diabetics and, when together, we speak carbs. My newest group is Weight Watchers and they speak points. What groups do you belong to? What languages do they speak?

TTYL,

Linda