©2000-2007 Cathe Jones

November 2003

This has been one HELL of a year. I have had to be part of several funerals, in one form or another, and the worst of it was that one was for a gal who is only 34, and a kickass pal of mine..whose wedding was here just a year before. Sad planet. Her picture is here, Amethyst was just too cool. Her kid, Rhiannon, and her hubby, Elliot, are trying to take things day by day, but jeeeesuz how do you deal with that stuff?

The good news, for those asking, was YES I finally got disability approved, which means although close to homeless as I was for many months, I will likely have a roof for another few years. (no walls, but roofs are good) For the short version... my hands are getting more and more hosed, I have to use voice software to type.. and the typos I get are amazing. If the software hears my rats in the background, then strange words will appear in my paragraphs. (For some reason, a rat sneeze must sound like "Also". )

In other news... I'm going on a vacation. I have not taken a vacation since... well, since..uhm.. 1994. For the last few years, my sister and I have grown closer and she invited me to join her in a jaunt to Hawaii. SO, why the heck not? Gimps in hula skirts? Could be a new look. Coconut bras on my hoveround, and I'm set, baby.

The temp. in Hawaii in January is about 20 degrees more than here in Vegas. There are as many folks going here as there. I figure I'm just swapping my Hoali status for a bit. This will be the first time I've flown over an ocean since my plane got hit by lightening over Ireland many many moons ago. I'm slightly nervous, but not that much. Mostly, I'm excited about smelling the place.

Vacations to me are about the senses. Or the lack of senses.It was senseless that Amethyst died, so to be desensitized may be good right about now. But instead I'm looking to replace the scents I have in my head of slots and martinis with coconuts, tanned surf boys, and the sound of folks telling me to go Ewa instead of Malaiki. (See, I read my travel manuals.)

I've been spending days researching just where my chair will be easy to ride through. I'm only going to Oauhu, and have scheduled luaus, a sunset cruise dinner for us, and then while my sister is working at a conference, I'll likely hit the zoo and the aquariums. (Squishy things and fuzzy things.. I gotta have the senses filled.) The fun part I'm sure will be getting my old wheelchair ONTO the plane in the first place.

Wheelchair on plane is like a racecar in flowerbeds. It doesn't really fit right. What they'll do on Hawaiin Airlines, as I've been assured, is to take my chair into baggage, (which means I have to check it in, as luggage.) Then they will roll me up to the gate, seat me, and roll me out of the plane. Roll me to the baggage claim and some guy who I never met will pick me up by my bottom and place me into my now freezing cold freshly unpacked chair. This of course is after it is searched for those pesky explosives us gimps seem to hide. The sensory games continue as the cabby tries to figure out how to put the chair into his cab, (I got that down in 1. 34 minutes, dude.)

Now, I started this missive with a comment on the funerals I've gone to recently. In some cases, I've been in chairs. In one case, I was left on the plane for about a half hour. That was fun. I don't drink so I'm only being facetious. Had a been a boozer, I'd been spoiled because the waitstaff, I mean stewards/esses all wanted to ply me with liquor. But instead, I got dusted and washed down, with the rest of the chairs. At least I'll be fresh for my assault on rest and relaxation. This is something I've waited for at least nine years.

Aloha,

Cathe