Use number 3 - My wife could be such a riot - her humor was irresistible - we had so much fun together. While living in northern California I decided we simply had to get to Yosemite. As luck would have it, Jane had to attend some meetings in Sacramento March of 2009. Perfect - I tagged along and from there we drove to Groveland and then to Mariposa and up the Yosemite Valley. We just happened to hit a California Poppy bloom of unimaginable proportions - locals said it was once in a hundred years - it was like the sides of the mountains had been spray-painted fluorescent orange. The butterflies moved in clouds. The waterfalls, vistas, redbuds, and redwoods were truly awesome - visit Yosemite in the spring!

Anyway, one night we stayed in the John Muir Lodge - sounds nice, right? It had one major redeeming quality - it was cheap. Cash discount. But it was quaint and charming - you just don't see those curtains much anymore - and Malmak, nougahide, faded cardboard prints (with brush strokes) of the old masters. Plus, a microwave of undetermined origin from sometime in the last decade. Decent bed, hot sex - paradise. We were the only guests that night - go figure…

After booking the room - we went out to dinner at a local restaurant - recommended by one of the wineries (Butterfly Creek) we had visited - it was a great meal with live local entertainment - which wasn't all that bad - I must say, however, California lamb when prepared correctly is delightful. On the way back to the lodge, it began raining - I mean really raining - like Holland.

About 11:30pm we get a knock at the door - it's the owner - an aged slight man of Chinese decent - he informs us that we don't have to move, but we can't use the shower in our room - the storm has knocked out the pilot light and he can't get it going again - instead he hands us a key to the middle unit in a different group of rooms - and informs us when we wish to take a shower we must “Use number 3” - repeatedly. Jane and the old man then proceed to get into a lengthy conversation that consisted of only those three words: “Use number 3?” “Use number 3!” “Use number 3?” “Use number 3.” Every time it got funnier, it was like Abbot and Costello reincarnate - I was helpless.

A little after midnight the pounding on the tin roof suspiciously stopped - it got very quiet. By morning everything was buried under 8 inches of thick, wet snow.

So we got our showers in the morning - trundling off through the deep wet snow - but one of the images that sticks in my mind is my dear Jane walking back in the door after her shower and smiling so broadly at the sheer beauty of our surroundings and the joy of seeing each other again. We had a love you don't find every day - thanks hon. We then went out to breakfast, and I accidentally opened the sunroof and dropped 8 inches of wet snow in our laps - but that's a whole 'nother story…