The Carnival Splendor

Mexican Cruise

January 29-February5, 2012

DeRay, Jeanette, Brent, & Eddy Hugh

At 2 pm, we settled in our cabin.  Not bad.  WE HAVE A WINDOW.  We either didn’t know or had forgotten.  There are four of us in one little cabin.  It took Brent only one night in a motel room together in Long Beach to rush out next morning and buy ear plugs and an eye mask.

 Safety drill at 4.  Cast off 4:30.  I missed the cast off because I couldn’t find a door to the outside.  Some idiot from the crew said it was Floor 5.  I soon learned to quit asking them questions because they were always wrong.  It was Floor 3 – and only the middle doors.  Very strange. 

 You can’t walk all the way around this ship like every other ship we’ve been on.  Bummer.  And it’s too crowded.  Did I mention that?  Lines and crowds everywhere.  Deadends everywhere.  Like I said, the crew knows nothing, probably not even English.  Brent and I found the sushi bar – delicious.  DeRay didn’t like sushi on the ship so we quit inviting him to our 5 PM sushi party.

I told Brent he didn’t have to be concerned about books on the cruise because they have a huge library with more than you’d ever want to know; every category, fiction, non-fiction, history, everything.  We rushed up to the library orientation and right on the dot of 7:30, someone carefully unlocked about four small cases with no more than 40 books total, in a windowless room.  They also had a few board games for the 4,000 passengers.  Whoopee. 

On the Oosterdam the library was huge in an airy wonderful room with comfortable lounge seats and a panoramic view on three sides of the ocean or whatever else came into view.  It was like being on top of the world.  Nevertheless, Brent and I both found a book to read.  He picked mine out because he had read it.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance Robert M. Pirsig An Inquiry into Values.

In it I found a quote which summed up not only our cruise but life in general:

“I feel happy to be here

and still a little sad to be here too.

Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive.”  Page 119.

Brent read Quantrill’s War.  One evening, I picked Brent’s book up and read about five pages before I realized it wasn’t my book.  Shows how aware I am.  I finally thought, “What’s all this bloodshed?”  The book I read was a bit quirky going from repairing a motorcycle to psychotherapy.  That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

We saw lots of playful dolphins last night from Deck 3.  It’s 11:15 am on this big floating city.  Ed and I went to the weight room.  I got kicked out for wearing sandals.  I brought no shoes.

When Ed and I got up on top, I noticed he had an infected finger – ingrown fingernail – so I took him back down to soak it and put an antibiotic cream on it.  “You sure know how to worry me,” he complained.

Ed loves elegant night.  He likes to dress up.  Lobster and shrimp.  Ed had prime rib and ate most of it.  Brent went to bed and missed the Rock & Roll Show.  Ed said it was “too loud.”  DeRay and I slept through it.

I wake up at 4 am worrying myself sick because Brent signed us up for a kayak/snorkeling tour tomorrow but Ed is the sick one.  Diarrhea and throwing up. We watched them anchor at Cabo.  This is rather a shabby ship – ugly ornate if ornate at all.  DeRay says it’s only three years old.  Carnival’s newest.  It’s too big too.      

Brent and I took tenders into Cabo.  He wasn’t a bit interested in shopping.  First flea market we stopped in, we walked right through and on into downtown.  Brent likes to get away from touristy.  We walked on uneven sidewalks, with stairs and dogs and slants forever and ever.  I kept begging to turn back.  (And I wonder why he never invited me again.) 

 He finally obliged and I thought I’d go spell Dad off with Ed but Brent wanted to walk to the beach.  20 min.  I didn’t think I’d make it.  We tried to rent a bicycle rickshaw but he was gone so we walked.  Not bad at all and we had a nice time wading and listening to a guitar and accordion.  I’m antsy.  Brent is relaxed.  I try not to nag (too much).  

 Dad was fit to be tied when we got back.  It had been a long afternoon for him.  The last tender was at 5:30.  We caught one at 4:30.  Ed had been throwing up and they hadn’t left the room.  DeRay watched two movies.  

Sushi at 5.  Comedy at 7:30.  Ed didn’t want to go but he went to dinner with us “just to be sociable”.  He didn’t eat a bite.

I spent an hour last night looking for my swimsuit, then I put Ed’s on over it and a t-shirt and no one ever saw my swimsuit.  We went to the Lido at 7 for a quick breakfast.  Down to the El Morocco at 7:45.   They sent us to the tenders and we met our tour group on the pier.  We marched to a boat – 45 minute ride where we spied whales galore and had a good view of the golf course and condos. 

 Our group was small so we all went together on the glass-bottom kayaks.  Because it was calm, we were able to go among the rocks and see unidentifiable things through the bottom.  We were the last kayak back, of course. 

I turned around to take a picture of Brent but I didn't want to capsize the kayak.

 

  Then we put on snorkels and fins.  “Are you going in?” someone questioned incredulously.  What do they think I am?  Old?  Even though the water was only 68 degrees I jumped right in.  I think I went clear to the bottom.  Will I ever come up?  We had a nice time looking at the colorful fish.  Most everyone was back after about 20 minutes.  Eventually, I was getting cold so I went back to the boat.  Our guide was out among us in a kayak.  Guess who the last one back in the boat was?  Yip.  Brent.  He gets his money’s worth.  He couldn’t wear his glasses and I thought he needed me to guide him back to the boat.  Somehow he found it. 

Spraying Brent off after snorkeling.

   Salsa, guacamole, and chips, as well as drinks awaited us.  Yummy.  Whale watch again on the way back.  We also watch sea lions jump up to get fish from a little fishing boat coming in. 

  We walked off the boat and ran into DeRay and Ed.  I was wet and cold, still in my swimming suit so I decided to go back to the ship.  The t-shirt store we loved last year had raised their prices so we didn’t buy anything.  Brent just had Dad’s water shoes on but he walked back into town and even went further than we did yesterday.  I was hardly through my shower before DeRay and Ed got back.  They found nothing to interest them.  At least Brent got back in plenty of time so he didn’t worry us.  I’m beginning to trust him.

 Why did I worry so much about today?  It was fun.  Thanks Brent.
(His dad was a mite surprised when he got his credit card bill.  Still, Brent was the driving force and we wouldn't have gone if he hadn't instigated it.)

DeRay said he heard this is Danzel Washington's yacht.  He was paid 20 million for each of his last movies.

 Breakfast in the Golden Pearl.  We’ve never liked the formal dining room for breakfast on other cruises but it sure beats the long line in the Lido.  BIG BREAKFAST – grits, melons (this is just me), apple juice, half grapefruit, omelet, hashbrowns, smoked salmon on gluten-free bread w/tomato, cream cheese; anything else?  Ed had French toast, yogurt and nearly all of the above.

 All told on “Didja Ever?” Brent had snails, alligator, frog legs, shark and sushi.  I tasted everything except the snails.  I’ve killed too many snails in our yard.  Ugh.  We soon learned to order two or three starters because the main course was always skimpy.  Except when Ed had lasagna.  They must have thought he was a glutton.  Our waiter from Columbia always had Ed’s meat cut up before serving it.  They never forgot his straw or DeRay’s milk or mine and Brent’s herb tea.  I love assigned seating.  8:15 so we were good and hungry.

Not only did they cut out the appetizers, they furnished no lotion or complimentary anything.  Cruise ships have really become stingy.  It’s not luxury anymore. 

After walking around the top decks in the warm sunshine, we decided to get off the ship and get it over with the day we anchored in Puerto Vallarta. We made a tactical error and went with a taxi driver who didn’t speak English and his taxi was way too small for four.  Overpaid too.  $15 each.  Brent, Ed and I were squished in the backseat.  DeRay couldn’t get in or out the front seat.  Bummer.  We should have gone in a van.  The tour was as stupid as they come.  We stopped for a bathroom break in a service station and a woman yelled at us because we didn’t pay her to use the toilet.  We thought she was just hanging out.

Bridge between Elizabeth Taylor's and Richard Burton's apartment. 

Cathedral

 Brent stayed in town and walked everywhere we had been in the taxi and wasn’t squished. 

Brent disappearing down street on solo adventure.

 By now we trust him, you see – except we expected him by 6 at the latest and he didn’t get back until 7:30.  Did he get kidnapped?  Break a leg?  Shot?  Lost? I didn't know it at the time, but he could have fallen through the rickety unstable boards on the swinging bridges.  So many possibilities!  It was a 4-mile walk back to the ship.  Of course, he could have taken a taxi for $6.  Oh, yes, one more thing, less than a month after we got back, 22 Carnival passengers from this very ship while on a legitimate ship-sponsored bus tour in Puerto Vallarta were held up at gun point and robbed.  Brent was alone all afternoon and evening.

We got back barely in time to eat at the Lido that used to never close.  Remember the good old days?  Around 5 when it started to get dark, I started to fret and watch every single person coming on board the ship.  We had Ed so worried he wouldn’t go to the program.  He was shaking.

 “Why was he so scared?” Brent wanted to know when he finally got back.

 “We told him you might not make it back.”

“Why did you tell him that?  I’ve visited 60 places around the world and I’ve never missed a train, plane, or bus.”

“You’ve never been in Mexico.”

He was really disgusted with us.  He had a grand time – walked across swinging bridges, up to radar towers, eating authentic food, and walking back all the way along the beach.  Then he wanted me to walk along the beach in the moonlight as a fitting farewell.  The beautiful pristine beach was just behind the flea market where DeRay and I had bought a necklace for Amy and a belt and wallet for DeRay.  Who would have guessed?  Brent said he hardly ran into anyone the whole way back.  Why don’t they tell you the beach and ocean are this close?  He thinks they should be arranging walking tours.  Brent and I stopped in the Flea Market and bought him two belts on the way back. 

When DeRay bought his belt earlier in the day, he checked it around his waist but he didn’t actually buckle in.  At home when he put it on to wear it, the belt was too wide to go through the buckle.  Dang China stuff!  I hope Brent’s belts work.  They both paid too much for them.

DeRay and Ed went to the Mexican Folkoric Show.  We all went to dinner at 8:15.  Brent and Ed left dinner and went out to watch the launch at 9 PM.  Ed had waited all day and was afraid he would miss it.

Father forgive me for my incessant worrying.

Ed and I met Brent on top and walked around with him.  There was a medical emergency so the ship turned around and went back to Cabo.  We watched them carry the woman off in a stretcher.  Brent said he didn’t know if she was in pain or scared to death being carried upside-down down the steep stairs to the tender.  Do the people who watch this sort of thing:  1) Care – while everyone else just goes on about their usual business like a fellow passenger wasn’t in mortal danger; or 2) Is it morbid curiosity?

This was fortuitous for us because the whales were most abundant around Cabo.  Brent is the official whale watches on the ship.  He pointed them out to everyone.  Fun.  He yells “whales!”  “whales!” and soon an announcement comes over the loud speaker:  “Don’t run and don’t push but whales are sighted starboard forward.” 

One evening, Brent took me on a walking tour of the ship.  He had probably done this several times a day all week.  We walked the long corridors on every floor from 1 through 9, climbing the stairs to each floor. 

  On this crowded ship with lines for everything, especially food, Brent discovered a very private place directly under the bridge on both floors 6 and 7 forward.  

 When we took Ed with us, he stood there for an hour (perhaps pretending his was driving the boat).  We waved to the captain.

  After our lengthy tour, Brent went on the track and then to the gym.  He was determined not to gain any weight.  I didn’t gain any weight either.  In fact, I weighed less when we got home than when we left.  I’ve made up for it since.

Brent spent quite a bit of time working with Ed to express himself rather than throwing a fit.  We thought he made good progress but it’s probably temporary because DeRay and I don’t have the gumption to follow through.  At one point Ed complained:  “I hate the way you guys treat me.  I’m tired of being mothered and brothered and fathered.  You have no courtesy.”

On the last afternoon,  Brent took Ed to the gym – 10 minute bike, 10 min. treadmill, 10 min. elliptical, exactly as at home.  In the afternoon, I borrowed Ed’s shoes and did machines, weights.  Very windy out.  Brent was waiting to play volleyball. 

 After Ed and I took sunset photos, we went back to the cabin to find Brent lying on the bed with ice on his ankle.  He sprained it playing volleyball.  Great. 

He limped to dinner.

Off the ship by 8:30 AM.  Is that 9:30 our time?  Don’t ask me what happened between Long Beach and State Line.  I slept. 

We stopped in St. George and visited with Jerry and Lana.  Jerry can’t get feeling good.  He reclined  with a blanket over him all the time we were there.

We cheated and took this picture on our next trip through after Jerry was feeling better.

Jerry & Lana

 At Shirley’s, we had taco soup, potatoes and gravy, meatballs.  Need I say “delicious”.  Thanks Shirley and Amy Jayne.  Visiting until 10:30. 

Deer in Shirley's garden

Amy J. in natural habitat

Aunt Shirley & Bry Sorensen

 Shirley fed us a big breakfast of cornflakes coated potatoes, scrambled eggs, Amy’s delicious bread sticks, juice before we left to visit with Lucy and DeMoin. Jolene and Effie were both there which made it fun.  We had visited with Bryant in New Castle when he saw DeRay out by the car and stopped on his way to work on a special project in Enterprise. 

Ed, Effie, Lucy, Jolene, Brent, DeMoin, Jeanette  Photographer:  DeRay

 Then we stopped to see Lynn and Juanita and had a nice visit with them.  It doesn't get any better than that.  Lynn wants to plan a reunion for Nephi.  Are we all too old and feeble?  Heck NO.

Lynn, Brent, Jeanette, Juanita - Nephi

 We stopped at Costco in Bountiful to buy pizzas since we invited Brooke’s family over.  It was 6 before we got home.  Are we insane? as Ed always asks.  We took pictures since we didn’t take any at Christmastime.

The Original Tribe:  Ed, Brooke, Brent, Amy, Mom & Dad

Ed, Brooke, Brent, Jeanette, Klarissa, DeRay, Brigitte, Amy, Isaak, Karlton.  Photographer: Elizabeth

Isaak, Grandma, Grandpa, Brigitte, Klarissa, Karlton.  February 6, 2012

Brooke, Elizabeth, Ed, & Brent Hugh

 And the next morning Brent flew home.  I knew we were going to miss him a ton.

Every time we mention Brent’s name, Ed says, “The one I love dearly.”

When we mention the cruise, he says, “The one I enjoyed.”

Goodbye Thyroid Part IV

My life has been full of terrible misfortunes most of which never happened. 

--Michel de Montaigne

     On January 12, Dr. H gave me the news on my thyroid ultrasound with "At least it's not pancreatic cancer" and reassured me with "thyroid cancer is almost 100% curable."  She scheduled an appointment with a surgeon as soon as possible.

     What would you think?

     In the meantime, I called the University of Utah hospital where I already go to an ENT for an intravestibular schwannoma (tumor).  His nurse said that Dr. S only does the brain.  "He probably hasn't operated on the thyroid since medical school."  She recommended and made an appointment for me with an ENT doctor in the same clinic.

     I cancelled my appointment with the first surgeon and now have to wait over a week for an appointment.

     I'm an emotional wreck.  I never want things to change.  I don't want to face hard things.  I'm not concerned about suffering as much as I am anxious about Eddy.

     DeRay calls Brooke to come over and help give me a blessing.  Brooke blessed me that we would make wise decisions in choosing a doctor and treatment.  Brooke patiently coaxed Ed into doing the anointing.  Whether Ed was petrified or whether he was concerned about me, I don't know.  He was shaking, on the verge of tears - but he did it.  I particularly felt Mama's presence.  She always cheered for both her grandsons, before and after her death.  I knew she would be there for Eddy. 

     I woke up vividly obsessed with this question:  "Were you here last night, Mama?"  I believe Daddy was here too and other family members.  Sometimes in my distress, I actually would get a little excited feeling about seeing Mama and Daddy soon, and Uncle Ed, and my grandparents, whom I didn't know in this life and if I knew them before, I've forgotten.

     The blessing helped.  It gave me peace and sometimes I actually began to feel normal.

     Meanwhile, Amy gets the flu.  We all get the flu.  We wash bedding, rugs, and clothes; spray the entire house with disinfectant; take showers and survive.  We're still coughing.  No one can quite get totally well.

     We take the ultrasound DVD down to the U - Dr. Luke O. Buckmann.  He knows he will operate but he likes to know whether or not the nodules are malignant.  His office schedules an appointment with Dr. Abraham, an endocrinologist, whom we actually went to in 2003.  Another three-week wait to see him.  I'm a bundle of nerves.

     How did Mama do it?
     I have vivid memories of her standing at dusk with her arms folded looking out the big picture window in our front room.  Her view was our front lawn and the hollow.  Nothing more.  She was lonely.  She was forlorn.  I knew.  She had a brain tumor.  She was staying with us while she had her cobalt treatments.  By now, she had been fighting the malignant tumor for more than twelve years.  She was in constant pain.  She was away from home.

In the olden days, she would have scurried to do the dishes after dinner. 

Silently, she got up from the table and walked to the front room and stared out.  At nothing.

Why am I remembering this now?

Because I think I know a little more how she felt.

Not yet.

Not the intensity.

But the forsaken part.

The ultrasound showed nodules on my thyroid gland.  I’m waiting to see the surgeon.

It’s almost more than I can bear.

How do the homeless do it?

The prisoners of war?

The oppressed?

The multitudes in refugee and concentration camps?

I have a home, a family, care, warmth.

Love.

(Although I sometimes question that.)

Illness is a lonely thing.

No one can compensate.

My heart is so heavy

I can’t breathe.

Mama, give me your courage.

Help me buckle up.

Tuesday night, January 24, 2012

We went on the preplanned cruise:  DeRay, Brent, Eddy, and I.  I tried not to ruin it for everyone.  The distraction turned out to be very good for me.  I wasn’t consumed 24/7.  Sometimes I was having such a good time that I could even forget.  Truthfully, nothing has changed.  I'm not sick, like my brother Jerry who has serious thyroid issues.  Nothing hurts.  Except fear and worry.  Amy said she didn’t think I have cancer because I'm not tired.  That’s true.  All distress and misery are self-inflicted.

My personal response came in the feeling that "all will be well", with the precaution:  “You still have to die.  But not now.”  That’s all I ask.  Of course, everyone has to die sometime.  That’s a given, even I get.

Things tensed up the closer it got to my appointment with Dr. Abraham.  I cleaned the house and prepared for the worst.  The night before, my brother, DeLoy, mentioned that it would take about 10 days to get the results back on the biopsy.  Why didn’t I think of that?  I won’t find out anything tomorrow.  I slept well.

I was disappointed that everyone I had told didn’t call Wednesday night after my appointment with Dr. Abraham.  Why did I think they were as consumed as I was?  Everyone has his/her own problems.  Much to my dismay, I’m not the center of the Universe.

Life is like an island lost in the ocean of solitude. . .

Your Life is an island separate from all the other islands and regions.  However, many vessels leave your shores for other countries, however many fleets sail to your ports, you will always be a separate island, suffering the pangs of solitude and aspiring to happiness.  Other men do not know you at all and they are far from pitying your solitude or understanding you.

My brother, your life is like an isolated house, far from any human dwelling.  A house which no gaze from outside can penetrate.

If it were deprived of light your neighbor’s lamp could not illuminate it.  If the house stood in the desert you could not transport it into the garden of other men, ploughed and cultivated by other hands.

My brother, the life of the spirit goes by in solitude, and without this solitude and this isolation you would be in no way what you are, neither would I be what I am.  Without the isolation and this solitude, I should come to believe on hearing your voice that it is my voice which is speaking or on seeing your face that it is the reflection of my face in a mirror.—The Eye of the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

Brent and Jan and my sister Lucy called.  No one else.  No friends.  No acquaintances.  No strangers.  Carol called on Thursday.  I finally called Shirley on Sunday.  I had emailed DeLoy.  We’re Skype friends so we keep in touch.  We talked to Jerry and Lana Gale since Jerry and I seem to be The Thyroid Twins.  Lynn & Juanita’s daughter had her thyroid out a month ago so they understand. Why doesn’t Verla call?  I about went crazy before she called on Sunday night.  I wanted to tell her about my visit with Dr. Abraham.

DeRay, Ed, and I left at about 11:50 to go to Dr. Abraham.  I had two biopsies and an ultrasound in less than 45 minutes.  He checked my previous MRI’s to look for a tumor on the pituitary that Dr. Grant thought he saw.  He thought the nodules in my thyroid looked rather common for someone who has had Hashimoto’s Disease for decades and probably a lifetime.  Hashimoto’s job is to help the thyroid destroy itself; actually it is the first autoimmune disease identified.  He also said they tested 3,000 Downwinders and the thyroid cancer rate was no higher for them than the general population.  The radiation exposure was not the type that causes thyroid cancer.  I'm much calmer for the wait for biopsy results.  If I had gone to the first surgeon, I probably would have had surgery that very week when maybe I don't even need it out yet.  I wait 5-7 days for results but I’m free from fear.

Later that evening Brooke called, forcing me to tell my story again.

Tuesday February 21, 2012.  Dr. Abraham himself called around noon.  No messenger for him.  “Both nodules are benign.”

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!

“They will continue to grow so you need to schedule surgery to have your thyroid out, even though it is still functioning.  If the goiter gets too large, the surgery is much more complicated.  It’s already infringing on your chest.”

I thanked him.  Not only for the results but for his kindness and reassuring demeanor.

“Bless you, Ma’am,” he said as he hung up the phone.

I believe he may be the only doctor I’ve ever liked.  What a gentleman.  I think he’s India Indian.  I’m elated and relieved.  Hurray!

DeRay listened in on the phone exchange.  Eavesdropper.  Then we visited for an hour.  I know. I know.  I still have to die sometime and so does he.  Just not yet.  THANK YOU GOD.

2:44 PM Same day.  Dr. Buckmann’s office just called to see if I wanted to set up surgery.

No.  Not yet.  I’m still basking in the light of my reprieve.

Well, OK, Huntsman Cancer Center; Tuesday, April 10, 2012.

Post Script:  Nearly two weeks later, Dr. Abraham called again, forgetting he had called the first time and gave me the good news that my tumors were benign.  He suggested I check every day to see if I can feel growth and have them checked again in six months unless I notice significant change.  Now I'm baffled.  I put in a call to Dr. Buckmann's nurse but in all day she didn't call back and we are leaving early in the morning on Ed's birthday trip.  I'll still have time to cancel the surgery when we get back if that's what we decide.  Amy said she thinks surgery should be a last resort, but when you're dealing with tumors and cancer, you don't take any chances.   
DeRay's sister, Clare, spent the week with us in Vegas.  She had just been to Phoenix to her twin grandkids' third birthday party.  A friend rode over with her.  She had just had her thyroid removed.  Her biopsy report came back benign also.  They only planned to take out one side but when they removed it, it was full of cancer.  Three weeks later she had the other side removed which was cancerous also.  She's now waiting for the radiation pills or whatever they do.  She's also applying for Downwinder Compensation.  That's exactly why Dr. Hendler recommended I don't bother with a biopsy.  The part they biopsy might be benign but until they look at all of it, you won't know if any part of it is cancerous.  I'm convinced. On the one hand, it seems like when your thyroid is still functioning you leave it alone; on the other hand, the nodules are growing and what else are they doing?  Hashimoto's won, I'm afraid.

EAST WINDS V

Amy posted on Facebook:  Unfortunately the times I've needed a sick day for rest the roofers have been jackhammering away all day; fortunately I can sleep through anything.  Saturday February 4, at 4:27pm

 

And that’s the day we finally got shingles on half our roof after all our rigmarole.

 

Oops, this doesn't appear to be our house.  Men walk on roofs in Mexico too?--where we were the day they roofed--like its Avenue des Champs-Élysées.

 

However, we didn't miss the excitement when they shoved the old shingles off two stories onto our poor deck and lawn. 

Amen.  Amen.

Amy Hugh

On March 23, 2012, Amy wrote on Facebook:  The winds have changed our local economy as evidenced by the Chinese place on main replaced by ABC roofing...I never got a chance to eat at the Chinese place, I have had plenty of chance to see/hear roofers and lock your doors for it only takes a hammer, air compressor, some boots, and tar clothes to enter yourself into the biz.

Jeanette again:  I thought every roof except ours was redone between Christmas and New Years.  How wrong I was.  Roofers are walking on roofs all over the neighborhood and entire town every day except Sunday every week and still there are many temporary patched and damaged houses waiting to be roofed and repaired.  The East Winds created much more havoc than any of us realized at the time.

 

 

The Best Part of Waking Up

  Folgers had it wrong.

The best part of waking up

  Is NOT Folgers in your cup.

The best part of waking up

  Is stretches, wiggles, and twists

  Cleansing breaths.

  Detoxifying the body;

  While still in bed.

  Always activating a smile on my face

  Even after a fretful night.

GOT IT ...
Forget Folgers in the cup.
Start the day the Yoga way
Using stretches to wake up. 
                         --DeLoy H. Esplin