A SHORT STORY BY CHARLIE DODGE

CHRISTMAS AFTER ALL

It was December 24, 1936, and money was tight for everyone. Pa was out of work, so it was even worse for us. My 7 year-old brother Ray, was worrying about Christmas.

“But Ken, what if Santa can’t afford to give us presents this year?” he fretted.

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I replied, though deep down, I was worried too.

Not because I believed in Santa, oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. I was

worried about Ray. I didn’t want him to have a horrible holiday.

I knew Christmas wasn’t going to be much this year, not with Pa out of work. Which was why I was surprised when Ma gently pushed a folded dollar bill into my hand.

“Go get something sweet for Ray and yourself Kenneth,” she said softly, “you two deserve it,”

I ran out the door and down the block to the general store. Once inside, I strolled up and down the many different aisles, greedily eyeing the candies. There were Junior Mints, Good ‘n’ Plenties, and a jar of peppermint sticks. In the corner, there was an icebox with sodas inside. Dr. Peppers, Cokes, and some grape sodas. I had just made up my mind to get a box of Junior Mints for Ray, and a Dr. Pepper for myself at $.50 each. Then I saw it.

“It”, was a tiny spindly little potted Christmas tree. “It”,was also $2.00! I didn’t have enough for it. Not even if I dropped the Dr. Pepper. I stood there awhile trying to figure out what to do, then I walked up to Sam, the cashier. I told him of my dilemma, and he said that I could get the Junior Mints and give him $.50 for the tree now. Then, next week, I could work in the store until I earned the other $1.50 I agreed, then walked out of the store cradling my purchases.

When I got home, I tiptoed through the door, because Ray had gone to bed after I had left, and I didn’t want to wake him. I set the tree down on the table, then slid the candies underneath. Santa could afford to get gifts for everyone after all.

TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES...DONE

It is 1:33 am in Las Vegas. And I am tired and satisfied. We had one hell of a road trip. Las Vegas is our last stop. Yesterday we trucked from Yellowstone to Bryce Canyon and it was glorious and good. The red rocks of Bryce are incredible, and worthy of a longer trip in the future. We celebrated Charlie's 11th birthday at a greasy spoon- which was modest and fun. But we were all ready for civilization. We were ready for a real hotel. The hotel in Bryce was rough. I won't go into detail here, but the conditions were so pitiful that it motivated me to actually post a Yelp review about it. You can read it after the link if you have nothing better to do:

http://www.yelp.com/biz/bryce-view-lodge-bryce-canyon#hrid:rJhWAUUqa0l2QzPPitsFiw

But hey, you can't win them all, right?

But tonight we are in the MGM Grand. God I love Vegas. I truly do. I didn't think I really missed it while in the rural areas on this trip, but I truly did miss the "freak" element of my usual surroundings- L.A. Vegas offers enough of freak to make me realize it. Does that even make sense?

I'm ready to get back and tackle the next few months. While on my third martini tonight- the lyrics to a U2 song kept rattling around in my head:

I'm ready
I'm ready for the laughing gas
I'm ready
I'm ready for what's next
I'm ready to duck
I'm ready to dive
I'm ready to say
I'm glad to be alive
I'm ready
I'm ready for the push.

I am so fuckin' ready for the push!

So we dined at STACK in the Mirage, shopped at this wonderful magic store at Caesar's Palace called HOUDINI'S- Chase bought a magic trick and I urge all of you to ask her to perform it for you. Forget the trick, just watch her face. She enjoys every moment of performing that trick. Charlie bought a puzzle that she can't figure out- and she's torn between figuring it out herself or finding a cheat for it online. It's a unique type of fun/agony that only someone under 21 can have...

Then we watched the Penn & Teller show. I've been a fan of Penn Jillette for some time. In 2005 he wrote this essay for NPR that stuck to my ribs because I agree with his philosophy wholeheartedly. Here's the link to it. Read it -- or better yet, listen to him read it himself.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5015557

The show was great. Before the show started the audience was invited to come up on stage and inspect some of the magic props that would be used in the show. It's kid friendly- but just dangerous enough to keep them from feeling patronized... and then at the end, this happened:

Then, as one does in Vegas...we all went and had milkshakes at 11:30 at night.

I think my favorite moments were on the Klamath. I'd like to give one more shout out to Mr. Fucking Perfect, Rael. Here is his website. If you ever want to go rafting up in Southern Oregon- it would be a mistake not to use him.

http://www.raelswhitewater.blogspot.com/

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It's becoming clear to me that there are two main things you have to give your kids to give them a chance at a relatively happy life:

1) The Opportunity to Learn at a College.

2) The Opportunity to gain relatively happy experiences that will give them their own unique worldview that, in turn, contributes positively to their surroundings.

I'd like to think that these last ten days have provided a little bit of number two. But who knows? Only they know. And maybe they don't even know it right now- but rather years from now. As a parent I'll never know. As a parent I only plant the seed, but can't sow those particular rewards. That's what keeps things interesting.

On an average day I only see Charlie and Chase for about two and a half hours. A half hour in the morning- helping them get ready for school and sometimes driving them to school. That half hour is all work. It's a complete task where nobody is in a conversational mood. There is no exchange of personal information during this brief morning blip that I share with them. Then, in the evening- who am I kidding- then at NIGHT when I come home, I have two hours to spend with them. And during those two hours it's about finishing up homework, getting some reading done, baths, showers, lectures, scolds, organizing, then getting them ready for bed. If I'm lucky...I get maybe a half hour of direct, focused conversation with them. I'm just not around enough for anything more right now. As the days blur together, sometimes we become nothing more than task masters and them the task conductors.

And that's why I loved these last ten days. We were all together. Trapped in a car, for many days up to eight hours. And yes there were video games played. But we had a whole lot of good conversation too. Here are some topics that we chatted about:

Profanity

Birthdays

Halloween Costumes

The difference between and hour and a half and a half hour

Frankie

Horses

The Great Spaghetti Monster in the Sky

Eddie Izzard

Death

The Afterlife

Volcanos

The Beatles

Next Year's Talent Show

Story Structure

Body Image

Body Hair

Funny TV Commercials

Green Day

Guitar Chords

Why the sulfer pots smelled so bad and made chase want to throw up

Futurama

Droopy Dog

The Future

Snoopy

Charles Schultz

Mormons

South Park

USC

Jail

Oregon Trail

American Indians

Candy

Politics

White Water Rafting

Gerardia

Stephen Hawkings

Poop

Make-up

The Bullshit of the NCAA

Rocks

Elvis

My Childhood

Tiffany's Childhood

Bear attacks

Camping Outdoors

How nothing is free

The Bill of Rights.

M&Ms

Like some sort of interpersonal crockpot- our car has slowly cooked us back into four people who know each other a little bit better now. Who can ask for more out of a trip? How can that be topped?

Don't worry...we will always keep trying...

Mahmahmahmah Shoshone. Yellowstone and Restaurant Surprise!

I am exhausted. By the time anyone reads this we will already be blazing back across part of the waistline of Idaho over to Utah. We are going to have to wake up first thing in the morning. First thing. For a ten to twelve hour drive to Bryce. YAAAAAY!!!

Yesterday we tackled an eight or so hour drive across the waistline of Idaho to Montana. West Yellowstone. But before we got there we decided to swing into Twin Falls to take a peek at Shoshone Falls. I only have two words to say about Twin Falls. Why in the hell is Twin Falls NOT the capital of Idaho? It has so much more going on than Boise it's ridiculous. AND it's about a billion times more beautiful- because of the valley carved out by the snake river. But oh well. I can't spend any extra effort figuring out Idaho.

So after a looong drive we pulled into West Yellowstone, Montana. Big Sky Country! We checked into the Three Bears Lodge, located on one of the main drags of the city. West Yellowstone is best described as being exactly like one of the touristy trap ports o'call you'd step into while on a Cruise. Half bad restaurants, stores brimming with miscellany that say "Yellowstone" all over it. Lots of tourists from everywhere crammed anywhere they can be crammed into...

This morning, the Dodge Four woke up at O' Six thirty sharp and bee lined into Yellowstone. Now, we've been to Yosemite. But Yellowstone is one of the most beautiful places in the United States. (Always will have a soft spot for Hawaii, though.) I won't go into the details of everything, because none of my descriptions will do any of it justice. It's a lot like the Grand Canyon in the sense that pictures and words can't accurately describe it. Ever. Only by being here, by seeing and hearing and breathing that place- will you any idea of the majesty it beholds. Which is why I'm happy that dragged my kids here. I will never forget turning that bend of road and seeing an entire horizon of columns of steam from all the geysers and springs rising into the morning sky. Right there in my dome. Forever.

So we hit all the popular hot springs and geysers. So alien and dangerous and beautiful. Then we drove over to Old Faithful. Wow. There is an entire tourist complex built around this one geyser. It's fantastic. But the National Park Visitor Center was splendid. The exhibits and Ranger talks and everything they had on display were just wonderful. Chase completed another Junior Ranger program, and received a patch. Charlie, later at the Canyon Visitor Center, did essentially the same thing, but for the Young Scientist Patch. Now, I try not to get too rah rah over things- but experiencing Yellowstone really made me think about what a wonderful thing our U.S. National Parks are. There is nothing like them in the world and it is really something to be proud of. It is our government working at it's most sincere form...actually FOR the people.

After Old Faithful, we jumped back onto the lower loop and went looking for wildlife. We saw Bison. Lots of Bison. But no angry bears or ravenous moose. Oh yeah, we saw some female elk, too. But mainly Bison. Which was supreme. Although an angry bear from a distance would have been great, too.

The lower loop took ALL day. But it was worth it. I really wish we had more time here. I would love to see the whole park. I want THAT much time to spend here. But a single day trip will have to do for starters.

So at the end of the day, after we left the park, we hit a center for "rescued bears and wolves" The girls got their wild animal fix and I hope our admission fees do actually go to the benefit of the animals. There was one moment where Chase stood, watching the wolves, and one wolf stopped right in front of her...then the rest of the pack sort of stopped too. I'm not sure if they were about to raise their paws in solidarity to Chase or they saw her as a little tasty morsel. Who knows.

Thus, we were hungry at the end of our day of adventure. But West Yellowstone really doesn't have much to offer in terms of "fresh" cuisine. It's mainly burgers and fries and other things that are fried. Tiffany had found out about a fish and chips place- but it was closed. So we opted for this other restaurant she read about on Yelp. Cafe Madriz. It was just outside of town- away from the drag of gut rot burger joints. It was a very small, rustic establishment with wooden picnic tables set up inside that served authentic Spanish tapas style dishes. The owners were husband and wife- the wife being from Spain. And let me tell you. It sounds odd to say that this little restaurant's food could give any West LA restaurant a good run for it's money. Every ingredient fresh. Everything personally cooked by the owner. We had a dish as simple as scrambled eggs and asparagus that tasted creamy with just enough crunch from the vegetables. Every bite left you feeling warm. The secret ingredient? The eggs were freshly laid by the chickens behind the restaurant. The Paella... UN. BE. LIEVABLE. I've never had Paella this good and fear I never will again unless I come back to Montana. You read that sentence right. To finish things off we had fresh lemon pudding for dessert, but it was actually more of a fresh honey yogurt with freshly ground lemon zest. The tartness left you feeling light and happy. It was the best meal of the trip. It was the best meal I've actually had in a long damned time. And I found it on the Montana Border.

Cafe Madriz. Come up here and make your mouth happy.

Ugh. Got less than five hours of sleep. Got a long haul tomorrow. Until...then...

FROM CAVES TO CRATERS...TO BOISE

Yesterday morning the Dodge Four said goodbye to the Treesort, which was a travestree- but a necessary one because we had to make our way to Crater Lake.

But before that, we took a spontaneous right and dove into a last minute adventure into the Oregon Caves near Cave Junction. Now, I've never thought of myself as claus...claus....claustrophic, but I felt an odd sensation when first entering the cave. A tightening of the chest, if you will. I think Tiffany and Chase also felt the same way. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed to be in heaven! She even wanted to scoot to the front of the tour group, away from us!

Sadly, this tour promised over 500 steps and near-crawl on your face conditions, so the Dodge Four bailed halfway through. I felt bad because Charlie really wanted to go on. She REALLY wanted to. And I don't blame her either. But well, it just wasn't realistic for that moment. But looking at how sad she was only guaranteed that now I'm going to have to train on a stair master and condition my core so that I can take her on future cave tours to make up for it.

While at the Caves, Chase got appointed Junior Ranger for the U.S. National Park Services. I think she digs it. I know she's hoping to get a Junior Ranger badge from Yellowstone, as well.

After a quick lunch at a country store in cave junction, we hit the road, and made our way up to Crater Lake. By the time we reached The Crater Lake Lodge, storm clouds were gathering. It sprinkled some, but quickly cleared up. However for the remainder of the night, a wicked lightning storm was going off in the distance. As the four of us ate dessert in wooden rocking chairs on the lodge patio, we could both look up at the stars overhead AND watch the lightning storm in the distance. Take that, Nintendo DS!

Would you consider me a curmudgeon if I went on a small rant here? Before dessert, we drove the entire rim Crater Lake. And every time we got out to take a photo or a look or both, I couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. It was nice. Not something I could take all the time, but very very nice. And then we got back to the Lodge. I couldn't help but notice how people just can't manage to shut up. Here we are, surrounded by a miracle of nature, and some old hen is droning on about her boring niece and nephew's new carpeting. Really? Here? These surroundings just naturally compel you to close your mouth and look. Around. But it seemed like it was most of the people at the lodge. Gab gab gab. Nobody can take pause anymore. Every minute has to be filled with something. Nobody even thinks about how the world was before humans made it noisy. Don't get me wrong, I'm noisy. But the worst kind of noise is small talk. THE WORST. Instead of small talk, next time just shut up. The world will be a better place. And elevators will be tolerable once again. Small talk is a human travestree.

This morning we woke up and jumped back on the highway, and spent all day making our way to Boise, Idaho.

I kinda didn't realize that Boise is practically on the border of Oregon and Idaho. A good portion of our drive was through the Oregon Badlands. Wow. Not the Oregon you envision in your head when you think of Oregon.

About halfway through The Badlands we were in need of gas. But there weren't any chain stations around. The only places that sold gas were the occasional single-pump dusty, gas/coffee shop type places that look perpetually closed. So I decided to pull over to one of these.

In Oregon you aren't allowed to pump your own gas, so I waited in the car. And out of the coffee shop ambles a very tall old man with gritty whiskers.

He gets to the window, takes a look a me and says, "I've seen you before!"

"You have?!" I ask.

"Yeah I have. I've seen you before!"

"Oh, I don't know..."

And then the guy filled the car up with gas and left it at that. Heh. I don't look like Zach Galifianakis.

Once crossing over into the land of Potato, I was very excited, because I've never been to Idaho. When researching things to do in Boise, I discovered "Going to an Edward's movie theater." in the top 25. But that's okay. Not everything has to be New York City. We grabbed a smashing BBQ dinner and took a swim in the hotel swimming pool and are getting ready for bed. Nice day. Tomorrow, we travel the width of the state to MONTANA! Until then.

A raft down the River

I don't know if I ever mentioned this to you but about six months ago I reread Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn back to back. I love Mark Twain. I love him for reasons that I won't get into, but if you don't love him, don't tell me about it.

All my life I always wanted to do the things Huck did. I wanted to catch fireflies on a balmy night. I wanted to chase frogs on the riverbank. I wanted to ride a raft to places where nobody knew where I was. (I've never wanted to swing a dead cat over my head to ward off bad luck, though.) The older I get, my private little dreams have transmographied into quiet wishes for my two girls. I've always hoped that they could have childhood experiences in nature- where they were brave and curious and happy in a place more wild than tame, to a degree. But as it turns out, I'm not a nature guy. I'm not a most valued customer at REI. I can't even hike that well. And Tiffany is worse than I am. She gets nervous when the kids merely play on grass because she's just not used to grass being anywhere, really. So I've been pretty resolved that my quiet wishes would remaining nothing more than that...

This morning I woke up after a stupendous night with the treehouse windows wide open and every entomology of bug thwapping on our pillowcases. I was truly rested. I find I always sleep better when my surroundings are as close to "outside" as it can get. I love the feeling of half-waking in the early am, right as the temperature changes and begins to cool down, and I sleepily make sure the blanket is wrapped around me a little bit more for that extra warmth. Last night was one of those nights. Perfect. And I'm hoping that tonight will be as well. (But first I have to blog...even though my eyes can barely stay open and everyone else in the treehouse is already asleep.)

So wake up we did, and we grabbed a hearty breakfast provided by the treesort. I went into the kitchen to explore first. And I was pleased to see that there were two spectacular things going on in the kitchen.

1) The chef was making scones that actually had smoked bacon in them!

2) The chef was a cross-dresser.

Now, I don't know about you, but I love these little beautiful twists that life gives us. Some people run from them, but I welcome them. I hope for them. Otherwise, everything can get pretty hum-drum pretty fast. Judging from what little interaction I had from some of the other treesort patrons, I was ready for some awkward looks and double takes- BUT THERE WERE NONE! Now, either everyone was effectively playing it cool as ice or nobody noticed or nobody cared. I hope it was the last one...but I'm too skeptical to truly believe that.

Anyhoo, breakfast was out of control good. I hate scones, but these scones were otherworldly. There were two different types of fresh baked quiche and well as piping hot french toast and fluffy scrambled eggs. I am looking forward to tomorrow already.

After the Dodge Four Breakfasted we let the girls explore the grounds a little more. Not far from the main area, across a small pasture, sat a kiddie zipline and something that is simply referred to a "Tarzan Swing." The girls ziplined about a million times and then scrambled to the giant rope hung between two trees. We even got Tiffany to take a ride once. Okay twice.

But soon enough it was time to hit the river! We were going river rafting today. Do you know that Tiffany loves rafting? This is an odd contradiction to the fact that she easily gets motion sick. But she loves to hit the water on that inflatable...

As luck would have it, the Dodge Four were the only passengers for this raft tour! So we had the raft and the guide all to ourselves. Our guide's name was Rael. Just imagine Bradley Cooper. Same speaking style, look, demeanor, and fucking unavoidable tanned swimmer's body and all that Adonis-like nonsense. At first I didn't even think of all this...but once we put the raft in the water, Rael casually took off his shirt and the angels wept. Jesus Christ. Later as we conversed, I learned that Rael was once a professional soccer player, then model. But he felt he wanted to give back so he got his masters and started teaching high school social studies. During summer break he returns to the rivers he travelled on with his father as a boy, but now as a guide, to share his love for nature with everyone else. Jesus, Rael, really?

But Rael was awesome. Cool. Collected. Friendly but he never tried to yuk our heads off. Most importantly, he never spoke to the girls as if they were retarded..which many touristy type people do with kids. Nope, Rael spoke to them like they were just two of four equal people on the raft.

Our rafting trip on the Klamath River lasted all day, and in between class 2 to 3 chop we lazed on down stream. When the water was calm we would all hop out of the boat and just bob along. The fantastic part of it all was that we had the entire river to ourselves. As we floated along on our backs, sometimes as much as fifty feet separating each of us, with the majestic tree lined cliffs on either side of us, it almost felt intimate, because it was only us. Our voices echoed and tripped off into silence, and all that was left each time was the sound of the river.

Many times, as we floated along, the calm water in the distance would start sounding anxious, and Rael would coolly say, "Alright, juuust a little bit ahead is a rapid, so you're gonna wanna get back into the raft now." But every time, our response to this was not equally cool. We'd start panic-swimming back to the raft as if Niagra Falls were ahead. Rael would help heft us back into the raft, (Which was reminiscent every time of a Green Peace sea lion rescue.) We'd take our positions and ride churners that go by the names of "the rattlesnake" or "the devil's toenail." Sometimes Charlie and Chase would sit on the nose of the raft and ride the rapids like a bucking bronco. Then the water would get calm again and cicadas would click at us on one side of the river and the grasshoppers would beat their wings at us on the other side and the dragonflies would return and alight on our fingers and toes as if welcoming us to a really friendly club that we always heard had existed, but never took the time to look for.

And after a long day of gliding down the river, watching the bald eagles and ospreys and blue herons flying overhead, our end point arrived. The kids would have rafted to the ocean if we let them. We waited on the shore as Rael put the raft up on the trailer, and the girls noticed hundreds of fingernail sized frogs, jumping in the sand and swimming in the water. I watched them follow these frogs, laughing and pointing and chasing. And I felt good.

TREESORT!

So it is the end of a very long day. I am sitting in the middle of our Treesort! You heard right. I'm typing this outdoors, in front of a crackling fire, with a canopy of trees and several million clusters of stars peeking through... oh yeah, and a Becks tall as my co-pilot. Everyone at the Treesort has gone to bed, so it's just me and the crickets and horses and wolves and Sasquatchi and Chupacabremoses...

What is a Treesort you ask? Oh nothin', just a place where your lodging is your very own TREEHOUSE!!! Just imagine the Ewok village. This is the closest Tiffany has ever been to camping, so I have to declare that I am very proud of the brave face she is putting on for all of this. So far there is a permanent chorus of knats swarming in front of our tree house door and all sortsa things that go buzz in the night AND we don't have our own bathroom. But she's being very adventurous and chipper and I'm very proud of her. Although I wouldn't be surprised if at some point tonight we have a very MY COUSIN VINNY moment outside of our treehouse.

Oh yeah. This is all in Oregon. We are in Oregon now...

But allow me to endulge by starting at the beginning. This morning, the Dodge Four woke up in Santa Rosa California, ready to tackle the Jelly Belly Factory a few hours north. After a night of gargling hydrogen peroxide both my funky tooth ache and throat infection were GONE! VIIICTORYYYY!!!!! And what better way to celebrate not having a toothache than by eating large quantities of Jelly Beans!

So we skipped breakfast and busted up the California to get to said factory mere moments after opening... and took a tour of the facility's very very clean Jelly Bean making...parts. Actually, the place made me think of Heisenberg's meth factory in Breaking Bad. I tried to share that with Charlie but she didn't get the reference.

After we all found out how Jelly Beans are made (It's not when a Mommy Jelly Bean and a Daddy Jelly Bean really love each other...) we caught some hearty grub at the Grizzly Bear Diner and then jaunted more up the California and out into Oregon. It was a lovely six hour drive. The girls are now looking out their windows more- I'm getting the sense it's just to stop my endless whining about it all. But nonetheless they are, and the four of us actually had quality conversations during the drive. But once we crossed the Oregon border we promised to let them dive back into their video games. And they did. Hey, baby steps, right?

So now we are in the deep woods of Oregon. And you know me, when I think deep woods, I also think "Cue the dueling banjos, please." But hey, this is Oregon, right? I mean, technically, it's still the west coast...sorta. Plus, I only saw ONE confederate flag hung outside a house on the way to the Treesort. So there's proof right there that they are very forward thinking and quite open minded...

The other hilarious thing that I discovered was in Oregon, the pinatas might not be made BY Mexicans, but they most certainly are made OF Mexicans:

"Come on Bobby! Hit that Mexican! HIT HIM HARDER! WHACK THAT FUCKER!!! Wait! Everybody wait! I don't want everybody rushing in once Bobby rips that Mexican in two, he may not be done hitting the Mexican!"

Tomorrow we will wake up to a glorious tree house view overlooking some tree lined mountains and a pasture of horses...then tackle the rapids. We are river rafting down...I actually don't know the name of the river, but I'm sure it will be cold. There are no locks on our treehouse door so I will have to keep the laptop in the car. If you don't find a blog up tomorrow then that means someone broke into our car and took everything. Yay! Until tomorrow...

TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES.

"WHY NOT? WHY NOT BOARD THE DOG AND SCREAM UP THE CALIFORNIA AND SPEND SOME NIGHTS IN A TREE HOUSE AND THEN GO TO IDAHO AND THEN WYOMING AND THEN AND THEN AND THENBAAHAHAHAHAHAAAABABABA!"

Ahem...

That's what my brain was screaming this morning at 5:30 am when I pried it open like the mouth of a dead lion and then dragged my ankles along with the rest of my body and subsequent family into the car- the wife (Tiffany) and kids (Charlie and Chase) included, to set off for an epic road trip. The details are still coming to me...but first...breakfast at McDonald's.

(Drive Thru Speaker)

"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?"

"We need a minute, please..."

"One number two combo?"

"No no, sorry...I said I need a moment to look at the menu..."

(long pause)

"Will that be all?"

"Nono. I didn't order anything yet. I don't want the number two combo. I need to look at the menu."

"So no number two combo?"

"No."

"Then what would you like?"

"I would like you to SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD!!!!!!"

Of course I didn't say that. I know they'd charge extra.

So we hit the road sleepily champing down combo substance. We needed to get to San Mateo by lunch to meet up with my good friend Mariano and his lovely family. We haven't seen them in a long time, and I love a driving challenge. So...done. Done done and done. We made it by lunch, Harris Ranch be damned and forever in our rear view!

"LOOK KIDS! COWS! FRUIT GROVES! LOOK! SHEEP! HORSES! LOOK A TRUCK FULLA TOMATOES!" I turned expecting to see them excitedly looking out the car window, their eyes full of wonder! But no...they were both buried in their DSes. I mean, COME ON! A TRUCK FULL OF TOMATOES? So magical!

On the 5, however, my sore back felt a little more sore. I've been worried that it would just totally blow out on me at the worst possible moment...on vacation. However, the more I drove, the better it felt. Okay! No problem. Then...zingzingzing...one of my back teeth starting to buzz with what might be impending hardcore cavity action. So for about fifty miles I started to hyper focus on that feeling. Great. What if instead of my back blowing out over vacation- I wake up with the electrifying agony of a cavity?! What in the hell would I do then? I just kept imagining my kids sitting in the waiting room of some Boise dental office, grumbling about how, "Maybe if Daddy went to the dentist every six months like weeeeee have to then our vacation memories wouldn't be ruined!"

Luckily though, the tooth pain sorta calmed down...although I know something's going on back there. However, all was replaced by the clear and sharp pain of a throat infection. Which I know I have. For sure. For certain. Lucky me.

After a very nice lunch catching up with Mariano, the Dodge Four said our goodbyes and we peeled further up north to Santa Rosa, home of the great Charles M. Schulz- and his museum.

Friends called Schultz "Sparky." Apparently, according to the museum, he was a pyromaniac as a child.

Okay, he wasn't a pyromaniac. His father gave him that nickname after a popular funnies character of the time.

The museum was classy and cozy and I hope inspiring to my oldest daughter, who has become quite the doodler. This is what she dreamed up on one of those paper napkin rings during lunch:

Interestingly, there is a calming effect that the Schultz museum has. I can't place my finger on why. Maybe it was all in my head, but it was nice. It felt almost, nourishing, in a way.

After we left the museum we checked into a local Hilton, grabbed some smashing Italian food. And now I'm about to gargle some hydrogen peroxide. I will fight this infection. It will submit.

Tomorrow...Jelly Belly factory and Tree House hotel.

THE DODGES GO CRUISING...PART DEUX REDUX WITH STINGRAY PICTURES

Greetings from the Dodge travel annals of bloggery. As it may or may not be known, daily blogging on a cruise ship is a rich man’s game. The price of the internet usage on board are enough to make you choke on your MaiTai. Thus, I have been blogging every night, nearly every night, but not posting onto the website. But now, I am posting everything at once and sprinkling pics in for you... So here we go...this entire entry is in chronological order...let’s go back to our first day out at sea, a bloggo flashback back ack ck k...

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I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO BEAT YOU BUT I CAN MAKE YOU CRY!

As I type this the Atlantic Ocean rolls underneath our ship, the Carnival Valor. We boarded her yesterday in Miami, and have spent a day at sea. Frankly, sitting on our balcony deck late at night under the stars with the ocean rushing by us and the ship rocking gently every now and then is simply my favorite part. When the kids go to sleep and all is quiet inside the room I come out here and just stare out into the darkness. I smell the ocean and hear the spray and see very little on the horizon if anything at all. And it makes me feel all right.

This ship is much larger than the ship we took to Alaska- the Carnival Spirit. And I guess with it being Spring Break time it brings out more people. There are significantly fewer of the octogenarian persuasion on board. But plenty more tattoos. My favorite was this man with a trach and a bucket of Bud Lights who had a full back tattoo of two female horses rearing up at each other for a horse fight. How’d I know they were females? Because they had very obvious, very swollen-like female horse business goin’ on. Oh yeah, where we goin’? The Western Caribbean.

Today I took the girls swimming at what I think was the height of “sun” time, because every living soul on the ship was outside and in that pool. In Miami, I heard a mother seething with anger, growl at her child, “I may not be able to beat you, but I can make you cry!” In that pool, I knew exactly where she was coming from. The water was churning like a fish hatchery, and I felt like I was in a very personally tailored version of hell. Charlie, to her credit, was far more social than me, and quickly found acquaintances she made merely yesterday to splash around with. I was bobbing around in the water with my lips tightened together. Chase had a good ‘ole time swimming with me, and when it was time to go- she offered her best arguments and objections, in only a style she could provide. Let’s just say I think the nuclear option was on the table but not used, only because she elected not to use it.

Tomorrow, we make our first stop, The Grand Cayman. This stop is the most significant to Tiffany and me because it was the port o’ call of our honeymoon, and we hope to share many of the fun parts of the island with the girls. There is no hard dock at the island, so the ship anchors as close as it can and water taxis take everyone to shore, load after load. One memory I have on our honeymoon while we were snorkeling, though, was seeing the hordes of invaders coming off the cruise ships to the island, and feeling quite disgusted. Looks like the flip flop is on the other foot tomorrow.

On a toothy note...Chase lost her first tooth in international waters! It has been loose for about a week, and when presented with the possibility of it being lost forever during a snorkeling expedition, on the beautiful balcony overlooking the beautiful ocean, Chase gave that loose tooth one big brave twist. Like a commando having to close a wound using nothing but gunpowder from a dismantled bullet, Chase calmly handled the situation. Tooth out.

RED TAPE? TRY RED BODIES.

The Dodge four is the personification of the song “Rock Lobster” as the four of us recover from a day at the Grand Cayman.

Up we were at the break of dawn, onto a water shuttle transporting us from ship to shore. It didn’t feel as obnoxious as I’m sure it looked. Bam, within two hours we were on a boat coursing through emerald waters to Sting Ray City. The wifey and I have done this before but now with the kids it seemed twenty times cooler. We jumped in waist high water as a guide wrastled a sting ray into his arms and we all pet and some of us kissed her.

(Female Sting Rays are the large ones, we were told.) Both girls were quite apprehensive about swimming with these notoriously cold blooded creatures, but after some watery snuggling, they were won over. Sting Ray City was over too soon, but we were on our way to some quick snorkeling and then Rum Point. As we all climbed up onto the boat the captain yelled, “WHO’S READY FOR SNORKELING?!” We all yelled, “WE ARE!” He fired up the boat. He put it in full throttle. The engine roared with everything it had. And two hundred yards later, we were at the snorkeling spot. We quite literally could have swam over there and saved the fuel. But no harm, no foul.

This was Chasie’s first time snorkeling, and I bet if you’d ask her she would have given the experience about a C. Something about the enclosed space on the face and then the very clear visual of the tropical deep weirded her out. She wasn’t keen on it. But what the two girls did love was riding on the nose of the boat. That is why we are all burned, for the most part.

Once we got to Rum Point we lunched and I enjoyed a Rum Punch Sunset. Tiffany and I enjoyed one when we were here for our honeymoon and hmmm, the magic is still in that cup!

On our way back the “captain” of the boat thought he spotted a shark, so he jerked the boat in a circle and yelled “SHAAAARK!!!!’ Now, Charlie, Chase, and I had our feet dangling down at the stern of the boat. The moment that was yelled their feet immediately yanked up into safety. It turned out to be a sea turtle, but both Tiffany and I realized that those two girls know how to survive.

Tomorrow we hit Honduras. No idea what we’re in for, other than more beach fun. What will my skin feel like after tomorrow? My bet is it will feel more like the “Secret Recipe, and not the Honey BBQ.

EVER PET A SHARK? WELL, CHASE JUST DID

So yesterday we hit Roatan, Honduras. Everything about that port of call felt fake. There you have an incredibly impoverished area and all the tourist stops are owned by foreign companies- yet to get to those destinations, one has to travel through severely impoverished areas. We booked a stay at the private beach called “BANANARAMA.” We quickly realized this beach was not as private as we presumed it would be. The beach was jam packed and there were peddlers selling everything from massages to watches to conch shells. They walked up and down the beach all day long. The heat was completely suppressive and the only refuge from peddler and the suppressive sun was the water. The water was completely beautiful and purifying and the girls spent every available second in it. But other than the water, Honduras was completely depressing. So much poverty. And it is so evident that the tourism money isn’t truly seeping into where the public needs it most. But Chase did get to hold two monkeys. One bit her, but didn’t break skin. I didn’t know about it until after we were walking away from the photo opportunity. The sun was shining on my iphone and I couldn’t see the photo I had just taken. But as we were walking away Chase told me the monkey bit her. After making sure she wasn’t bleeding I asked her why she didn’t tell me when it happened. I asked her, “Why didn’t you yell or flinch or do anything. As cool as ice Chase said, “I didn’t want to freak the monkey out.” Here is photo evidence of the crime as it happened. Guilty Naughty South American Monkey.

But Today we tackled Belize. We snorkeled and swam with sharks. By now, Charlie is a seasoned snorkeler, and she was bopping around under water without waiting for us. Chase, on the other hand, seemed quite apprehensive, especially when an eel came up from the reef to say hello. That seemed to worry her in an impressive manner. But by the time we got to the Stingrays and Sharks, Chase seemed to be having fun. At one point one of the snorkeling guides hefted a three foot long nurse shark right up to Chase to let her pet it. In a word: RAD.

The remarkable thing about Belize is that all around the ocean there are mangrove trees and little acre-sized plots of island that have fishing huts on them. How amazing it must be to stay on one of those micro civilizations for a spell. How gorgeous the stars must be at night.

I bought two Cuban cigars in Belize and the first one was a serious disappointment. Simply put, it had the aftertaste of dirt. Let’s hope the Cohiba Habana Robusto is better.

DAMN.

So now I’m sitting in a clean but corporately sterile Westin in Fort Lauderdale. I’m a preemie ripped too soon from the warm womb of vacation and I feel pretty fucking irritated about it all, to be frank with you. Vacation is over and tomorrow we come back home.

Belize it or not, I’ve just been too pooped to write since our time in Belize. But the next day we hit Cozumel. By the time we stepped off the boat in Cozumel, I’ve caught on to the fact that nearly every port has a portion of it prefabbed by the cruise companies and catered directly at Midwestern alcoholics. Margaritaville, Fat Tuesdays, Three Amigos, Senor Frogs, Carlos and Charlie’s... all places where people just buy cheap buckets of the cheapest brands of American Beer, grind to American Songs, and then stumble into some American owned gift shops to buy T-Shirts that say pointless witticisms like, “Cozumel...All the Therapy I Need.” What? WHHHAAT? Heh.

Once we docked at Cozumel we took a ferry and an hour bus ride to the Mayan Ruins in Tulum. Really damn cool. Our tour guide is Mayan himself, and was very effective in sharing with us some pretty incredible facts about the Mayan culture and it’s mysteries and histories. Google them. Very worthwhile to know. But the heat was intense, and the beach just below the ruins was microscopic. So after some quicks snapshots of the girls frolicking in the surf and sand we headed up and out to the only place to grab a margarita and some fresh tacos- a joint called Mr. Frostees. Great name, if you ask me, to have when you know all of your clients will be overheated and thirsty. Mr. Frostees was owned by this Mexican guy who hand made a habanero salsa he simply called “AYEYAYAYE.” Fucking great. Watching Tiffany order it was great. And lemme tell you, that salsa...has earned the right to use that name. Scrumptious and dangerous all in one bite!

Traveling back from Tulum, I noticed the highway we were travelling on was simply one resort after another. For miles. Simply amazing.

The next day, was a full day at sea, where Tiffany and I tried to cram in as much ocean staring time from our balcony as we could- and and girls both tried to get in as much pool and pal time in as they could as well.

And that leads me to today. I have to admit, I seriously felt my heart ache a little today when I had to leave the ship. I’m of half the mind that Carnival pumps something through the air vents or carries subliminal messages in their music that makes you feel this damned sad to leave their boat. And I’m not a “cruiser” okay?! I don’t do the dance parties and I don’t fight the buffet lines just because they have crabs legs. I don’t do the nights where everyone wears the formal attire. That’s ridiculous. It’s just like Halloween, but with suits and cocktail dresses. I don’t buy the millions of pictures they take of me every time I disembark. I don’t care about bingo or the shows. (The Stand Up can be fun...can be...sometimes...) So I don’t know what’s going on with me. I was simply just very very sad to leave. AND I FELT THE SAME WAY WITH THE ALASKAN CRUISE. As I walked down the gangway I started to turn bitter and resentful, my mind flooding with the disgusting notion that a mere few hours from when I’m so unceremoniously shuffled off the ship, new vacationers will replace me, and by five o’clock a new adventure will begin without me. Stupid people. Dumb Carnival Funship.

Even today as we were blasting along the everglades on an airboat, I just wanted so feel the rock of the ship and stare out from my balcony at the water and hear that ocean dancing off of the ship. Last night I even tried to record that sound on my iphone. It came out okay. I can’t bear to listen to it right now. I won’t delete it either. I’m a mess. I really think for me it’s the ocean and the stars. And watching the kids have so much fun with all the little things the discover on the ship throughout the vacation. So I’m just going to stop rambling on and just post a bunch of pictures of them at their cheeriest...that way when I look back and reread this and relive that tinge of blue I felt when my ship time was over, I will next see these photos...and I will feel happy and whole. And eager to do it again.