Living hell. The only thing worse than going to visit out of town relatives and getting driven around is having them come to town and have to ride in the back seat of their rental car while they drive around.

This particular couple who is here for a long weekend used to live in the area. So yesterday we drove to cemetery number 1 and pulled weeds from her first husband's grave. Then we drove to cemetery number 2 and looked for her mother's name that was supposed to be posted over the 'scatter garden' a little tiny plot where families can choose for their deceased's ashes to be scattered. The nicer name is Garden of Remembrance. Well, my cousin couldn't find her mother's name, but thought she saw her mother's maiden name. So we had to go huffing over to the office and wait there while folks were mustering for a graveside service and someone was at the front desk talking about blood infections and coroner's reports. The name was supposed to be there, so we go huffing back out there, past the graveside service, and sure enough, the name had been there all along, so all that snit and carrying on for nothing.

It's not as if the mother died last year, it was 25 years ago, and the daughter has been and seen her name on the plaque many times before yesterday's visit, it's just that she didn't 'see' it this time.

So then we went to Hoover Dam, planning to walk over the new bypass bridge. When you drive over the bridge the side walls are so high you can't see over them, done on purpose to prevent tourists from just slamming on the brakes to take pictures of the chasm looming below.

New bridge from Hoover Dam:





It must be spring break, because the place was mobbed. There was no parking in the little lot for walking over the bridge, and cousin Betsy refuses to do any amount of walking or hiking, so then we had to cruise around looking for non-existent free parking. I don't mean to say there were free parking spots that were filled, I mean to say all public parking at the Hoover Dam now costs money to use - free parking doesn't exist. My cousin, who was driving, kept moaning and whining about this, because it didn't used to be this way when she lived here. That kind of carrying on gets really old after the first couple of minutes because it's so pointless. Meanwhile, her husband, who worked in the big electric generator of Westinghouse regaled us with stories about where he got to park in 1989 (free of course) when he came to dam and someone gave him a private tour, and of course that just egged her on.

Then, after we had stubbornly driven to every possible parking spot to make sure it was not available, she admitted defeat and went to the next highlight, which was fumbling around neighborhoods in Boulder City, Nevada where she'd lived. We drove by somebody's former condo, and stopped at a former home. Not having called ahead, it was a drop-in visit, and there was a short wait while the 81-year old lady put on a robe and adjusted her oxygen. I stayed out in the car, couldn't imagine being one of the strangers traipsing through this poor woman's house while she showed the former homeowner what things she has changed in the past 15 years. I think the sweet old lady was glad to see my cousin, but I'm also glad I didn't go in.

By this time it was hot and sunny out, 86 degrees. Riding in the back on the sunny side of the car without rear air conditioning vents is not my idea of fun. We had to stop at a casino so the woman driving could do some chain smoking while she gambled. That took about an hour. I doubled my initial stake and quit while I was ahead. I helped my retarded cousin play video poker and she was up $11.25 but then lost back to where she was $1.75 behind. Her sister (the driving chain smoker) was irritated because she'd lost $30 in that short time we were there.

There were lots of long-winded stories about people I've never heard of, who aren't related to any of us, a lot of them about the husband's first wife, who died of a brain aneurysm. It got to where he'd start on some story and I'd tune it out thinking it had no relevance, and then it'd sort of come around and have a point, such as how his sister and brother-in-law bought 26 acres and built a house and shed and blah blah blah divorce blah blah blah. Turns out he bought the place from them after the divorce, so he was describing the place my cousin and her husband now live on in southern Illinois. I would have listened if I'd known that's where we were headed.

We've bowed out of any further commitments, they have friends in the area to visit, so they are going to be occupied. Phew! We'll take them sightseeing on the Strip on Monday. Maybe Mr. Troutbend will do the driving.