His gal pal sweetie has a deep voice

Okay, so it has taken me a while to get over my vacation embarrassment, but now I can talk about it.

We found a wheeled carry on suitcase with dozens of compartments that matched our luggage. It was on sale for $20.00. We couldn't pass it up. We packed incidentals, medications, and personal care items in it. Bill loaded all of the luggage in the car.

"Did we miss anything?" he asked.

"No, I double checked. We're good to go. Did you program Chatty Cathy (GPS)?"

"Yep. Let's hit the road."

We were two and half hours down the highway when I wondered if I brought my good watch to match my good jewelry for elegant dining night on the cruise. I reached back and unzipped my suitcase, reached into the zipper bag for my fabric jewelry case and my heart thumped. I felt around frantically like a new mama looking for a dropped pacifier in the dark. I unlatched my seat belt and climbed over the seat and began rummaging.

"What are you doing? No seat belt!"

"No jewelry! No kidding! I mean NO jewelry. It's not here! I must have left it at home."

"Do you want me to turn around? Can you make do?"

"With what? I have NO jewelry to go with any of my outfits. Stop at that outlet mall ahead and I'll just have to buy the basics, red, black, turquoise, and silver earrings and necklaces." I had received a sum of money from my students and coworkers, and I had planned to buy something special while out of the country on our cruise. I bought something special alright, replacement jewelry.

I was so upset with myself. But only half as upset as I was when we arrived at our first hotel. I unzipped the new suitcase, unloaded our personal care items and discovered that I had stashed my jewelry in a hidden compartment. That little four wheeled, multi-zippered bargain ended up costing $80 before it was all over.

That was MY boo-boo. Bill's was worse. Second day we were exhausted and couldn't wait to arrive at our hotel in New Orleans. Chatty Squeaky Cathy kept recalculating. I mentioned that the terrain seemed different, not swampy like before.

"She knows her stuff. She says we are half an hour from our destination. Relax; she's recalculated a new route, a shorter way, that's all."

"It isn't right. We should be going south toward sea level, not inland."

"Look!" He wagged his finger at the car dash. "It says we are only fifteen minutes from 112 Royal Street. Destination!"

"Pull over and check that GPS."

He was adamant. "See, right there, 112 Royal Street, Baton Rouge."

I should have shut my mouth and allowed him to pull up in front of someone's home in Baton Rouge. I started laughing.

"Me and my jewelry, and you and your Gal Pal Sweetie (GPS)."

After an hour of sporadic giggling through rush hour traffic, we finally arrived in New Orleans.

Last week hubby put the GPS on the dash when we went to visit the grandson at his lake property.

"Take interstate 55 south..." A baritone, male voice!

"What happened to Chatty Cathy?"

"Um, I can't understand her, even with my hearing aids in."

"Uh huh, and I have a bunch of duplicate jewelry."

Growing old together is an adventure.