tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73712083079489266792024-03-05T14:40:19.001-08:00The BlatherSciolistUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-10039437891735419692015-08-14T22:23:00.001-07:002015-08-22T17:55:47.361-07:00MODERN TIMES HAS FORCED ME TO MOVE. GO TO WWW.BLATHERSCIOLIST.TUMBLR.COMUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-42511281048521703502015-08-10T20:25:00.001-07:002015-08-10T20:25:40.146-07:00WELCOME TO FURY ROAD 2015...WITNESS MEEEEEE!!!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXxf1I6vpvw87oOnGm4drEyhPkkvXrSKyi_LQgjikSbz5wwnLHcPmIzF4RCP_Ak6rbgir0Y5osW5JV9V-A6kUOHiLfQL-sAcN-d9eEqHQU5rcQHM8VdsLNW6FEeBrXcYTPOvO0K5tdZh0/s1600/IMG_0597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXxf1I6vpvw87oOnGm4drEyhPkkvXrSKyi_LQgjikSbz5wwnLHcPmIzF4RCP_Ak6rbgir0Y5osW5JV9V-A6kUOHiLfQL-sAcN-d9eEqHQU5rcQHM8VdsLNW6FEeBrXcYTPOvO0K5tdZh0/s320/IMG_0597.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Welcome to Fury Road, 2015. Three families. Ten people. Ten Stops. Lots of patience. One white van. Witness me. WITNESSSS MEEEEEE!!!!</div>
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What originated as a crazy pie-in-the-sky idea, a "Wouldn't it be crazy if we..." turned into a "Yeah, we should..." turned into a "We leave this Sunday." Well, that departure date was yesterday, and we loaded into our white van and tore out of town for some brain battering adventure...</div>
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<i>"Wait, what? A white van, you say? All ten people? For thousands upon thousands of miles?"</i> </div>
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YYYYYYYYEP.</div>
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<i>"But but but...I thought you loved each other. I thought you wanted to <u>continue</u> loving each other. I thought you gave up being masochists?"</i></div>
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EH.</div>
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A white van. A Ford. Nothing too kidnappy. In fact, it's very space shuttle-esque.</div>
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We christened our white van "Vinnie" as in "Vincent" as in "The Van that...Goes." Vinnie blazed across the desert road. Our first foray into adventure happened right off route 66 right after we passed the Arizona border right near Kingman City...we were running low on fuel (Fumes, maybe? Who knows.) Tiffany was feeling clenched staring at the gas gauge, and gas stations were seemingly few and far between the endlessly stretching road. I outwardly appeared quite cavalier about the whole thing with a lot of obnoxious "WE'LL MAKE IT TAKE A CHILL PILL!" but inside I was starting to quiver a bit. The needle was at "E." Just in time we found a place curiously called "Crazy Fred's Brothel and Truck Stop."</div>
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<i>"WHOA WHOA WHOA!"</i> you might proclaim as your chablis comes out of your nose. <i>"Look at all the children in the above photo! This is a family vacation! And you take them to a place with 'Crazy' in the name?</i>" I totally agree with you, and know what you mean. In this day and age condoning such insensitive labels to the mentally unstable is inexcusable. But we needed gas. Eric, the one adult in our group who is single did take the personal initiative to investigate how a place could come upon such a name...but after walking about for two minutes he quickly returned with a look on his face that simply said, "How soon can we drive away from here?"<br />
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After that we drove for a few minutes on the actual Route 66 all the way to Mr. D'z Diner. (I guess they don't teach proper spelling along Route 66.) The Dodge tribe had been to Mr. D'z before and always had a good meal. And it was the same this time... after lunch, Tai Dodge Yu took its collective first selfie with Joyce's selfie stick.</div>
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Not too bad. We'll get better. But we were a spectacle to watch try to take this...grouping together...screaming at one another...trying to get the sign in the frame as well. And admittedly, I look like I photobombed someone else's photo...<br />
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But after some more road we finally made it to our first real destination: Meteor Crater...for selfie attempt number two...<br />
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Again, there was much turmoil in the taking of this picture. Much screaming, elbowing, jostling. Swearing. Other tourists were starting to watch us instead of staring out at the crater. (BTW the crater was amazing and big and science and stuff.)</div>
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<b>Charlie's hand-sketched postcard for Meteor Crater.</b></div>
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Driving back from the Meteor Crater to Flagstaff the heavens opened and dumped on us. The rain was pounding on noble Vinnie so hard that visibility was almost to nothing. It was so utterly violent and dramatic and fun. And then within a half hour or so...</div>
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DOUBLE RAINBOW!</div>
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BOOM!</div>
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WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!</div>
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IT MEANS THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST ROAD TRIP EVER...</div>
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maybe we'll see...</div>
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Then today team Fury Road woke up at the crack of dawn and headed to Williams for the obligatory pre-Grand Canyon visit Wild West Show. It didn't dawn on the adults until after some shootout action was happening and some of the small ones in the group were already flinching and grabbing onto arms for security that at this very moment we were introducing them to the idea of cold blooded murder as entertainment. It must have been perplexing when everyone started to clap after some of those cowboys dropped dead...oh well, welcome to the human race...</div>
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As it was the two other times I've seen it, I always have difficulty completely wrapping my head around the fact that the Grand Canyon is real...but it is, and magnificent. So we took more photos.</div>
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This time our group selfie as more efficient...yet I still look like I'm some idiot passer-by jumping in at the last moment.</div>
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Tomorrow, we leave Flagstaff... and head to Albuquerque... a place I'm very much looking forward to visiting... until then.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-70941801423982357682014-08-19T03:50:00.000-07:002014-08-19T03:50:02.479-07:00HO'OMANA'O<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was...oh, I don't remember now how old...maybe six or seven, my Gram went with my Aunt Peggy and Uncle George to Hawaii. All I was told was that she was going to see the Volcano. I'm guessing now that it was the Big Island. I remember my Aunt Debby volunteered to watch me and our animals while Gram was away. I remember the morning Gram left very clearly. I remember feeling very excited and happy for her. That was one of two times Gram ever went on a serious vacation, to my memory. Even as a young boy I knew that she deserved a break from taking care of her grandchild...however wonderful I was.<br />
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She pulled away in what I remember was a limousine. Maybe it was some sort of town car. I stood at the screen door, I can still remember that old metallic rust smell of the frayed screen close to my nose. I watched her car disappear down the block. And then I burst into tears. The realization washed over me...I didn't want Gram to die in the Volcano. Images of exploding rivers of hot lava coursed through my brain. I remember my Aunt Debby was caught off guard by my own sudden explosive river of tears. Just a few moments before I was joyously saying goodbye. Now I was bawling. I remember she resolved to make me scrambled eggs to make me feel better. And they did.<br />
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I think that I've mentioned before the fact that I didn't ever travel as a kid. But one point that I might not have mentioned was that Hawaii seemed to be the place many of my relatives -- and now Gram -- went without me. What made it magnified was that the house I grew up in was originally decorated in a heavy hawaiian theme. We had pictures of waterfalls and flora and fauna and sunsets with palm trees all over the house. The back yard still had remnants of Tiki decorations throughout the neglected yard. Hawaiian music populated our old stack of records and eight tracks. Hawaii was a presence in my childhood. Like a third hand story told over and over again. Yet I'd never gone, myself. Until a handful of years ago when we went to Oahu. And now I'm on the Big Island. And two days ago we took a day trip down the Island to Hilo to see...The Volcano.<br />
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For part of this trip we were originally supposed to stay in Hilo...but a really bad storm reduced our luxurious house to a structure without electricity. The owner offered us a heavy discount if we were interested in the "camping" environment...but we passed and elected to stay in Kona for the entire time we are here. And it seemed for a brief moment that we weren't going to venture that far from Kona, either. But after thinking it through...we strong-armed Joyce into agreeing that we should go. Full disclosure, even I wasn't sure if it was worth the trip. The Volcano only had steam coming out right now... Is that worth driving for an entire day?<br />
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But it wasn't just the Volcano we were going to see. We decided to pack a lot of sights in along the way. And we resolved that in order to break up the long drive we would have as much of an adventurous spirit as possible.<br />
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The first stop hit me like a ton of bricks. The Pu'uhonua o Honaunau National Park. See, all during my childhood I grew up with this picture on the wall of the living room, right above one of the old chairs...and it was of the Fierce Kii -- these wooden carvings of the gods. But back then I had no idea what they were or where they were located in Hawaii. But they've been rattling around somewhere in my memory, lying in wait. Then Tiffany showed me the brochure for the national park and it was like that scene in Ratatouille where the food critic tastes a dish from his childhood: and we zoom through his eye into his memory where he finds himself a child again. And that's what it felt like for me.<br />
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And now, here I was, standing before the actual structures that I had scene on the wall of my childhood home for so many years. It was thrilling and oddly satisfying. I was standing there, showing my kids something, in person, that I only knew in a limited dimension as a child.<br />
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The other noteworthy thing is that whenever I imagined Hawaii in my head...I always imagined this very spot. I thought the entire place looked like this, so it was very strange to finally be standing on a spot that essentially existed in my imagination for so long. Hawaiian Royalty had it pretty sweet, by the way...</div>
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But it was hot, and right after we left, our caravan stopped off for some fresh fruit smoothies and treats. I myself had an amazing chocolate covered apple banana that was ALSO covered in macadamia nuts. We also tried fruit I'd never had before called Abiu. The promise was that the scooped-out meat tastes just like vanilla pudding. I say our camp was 50/50 in agreement to this promise. I personally think the consistency was wonderful. I'd eat it again.</div>
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Our next stop was another place that I didn't realize was on the Big Island -- the black sand beach. Again. As a child I'd seen photo after photo of the place. So being able to dig my own toes into the beach was deeply satisfying. All in all the day we went was a tad too touristy for my taste. I think the beach would be much more enjoyable as I remember them in the photos...completely empty!</div>
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But we did see some turtles sunning themselves. They were so over all the people staring at them.</div>
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Further along we found this fantastic place to lunch...it was this great local bakery/diner. I had Lau Lau pork for the first time and all of my tastebuds were dirty dancing in my mouth. We also snacked on fresh pies, so the kids were heavy with food for the final leg of our drive to the Volcano...and this happened.</div>
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Now, Joyce is suspicious that Piper is pretending to sleep in this photo, but if she was indeed faking it she's scary good at it because she was motionless for an hour...just like this.</div>
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So finally we get to Kilauea. Before we left on our trip, Chase and I had a conversation about the safety of visiting a live Volcano...and I found myself now on the other side of that moment in my childhood. Unfortunately, lava was not flowing by any stretch of the definition, however there was steam rising out of the crater, which I found incredibly unnerving. Thinking about that...matched with the steam vents we saw on the way in...just made me feel like we were nothing but little bugs on a sleeping giant. By the time we were done with getting the kids their SECOND Junior Park Ranger badge of the day (They complete tasks and a Park Ranger swears them in and they get badges! For free.) everyone was tired and ready to beat it back up to Kona. But I pushed everyone for one last adventure not far off...</div>
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LAVA TUBE!!!!!</div>
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It was again spooky and impressive. And is the case with any of our "Cave" explorations, Chase was weirded out and Charlie was thrilled to the bone.</div>
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After we said goodbye to the Volcano National Park we scrammed over to Hilo where we hit KEN'S HOUSE OF PANCAKES and oh my sweet lord the food was ample and good. I had corned beef hash Loco Moco. Take that, health! After we all were happy and full of wonderful dinner, we drove through intermittent yet fiercely present rain bursts, back up to our wonderful pad in Kona. We nearly drove around the entire island. Now THAT is a wonderfully productive day.</div>
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Today, we lounged at the beach and the pool, and as I was baking in the sun I thought a lot about yesterday. I'm really glad we all went on that jaunt. Many of our travelers may not necessarily remember all the finer details of yesterday later on in life...but who knows? Maybe, one day, some random image of something on this island will generate a burst of memory to bring them back to this very moment of their childhood. And it won't be a memory of staring up at a picture on a wall, but rather one of seeing, smelling, and feeling the experience on their own.</div>
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It was the best Hawaiian day.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-28400647584259756502014-08-16T23:41:00.003-07:002014-08-16T23:56:32.238-07:00ALOHA MEANS ALOHA!Okay, here are some quick lessons in how to speak Hawaiian. I mean, if you're going to go to Hawaii, you need to know the language, right? Here we go...<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;"><i><b>Hau`oli makahiki hou</b></i> ... it means, "Hey, how is that rash?"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;"><b><i>Maui nui a kama</i></b> ... "Look! I got a tattoo!"</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">`</span><u style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">O</u></i></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;"><b><i>kole maluna!</i></b> ... "Oh my god a sea turtle bit my penis."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">Really, those are the only expressions I've found useful while being on the BIG ISLAND.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">We got in two days ago...myself, Andrew Dodge, my wife, my two doting, adoring daughters who listen to my every request, and then my wife's Sister Joyce and her wonderful family- hubby George and daughters Tyler and Piper... as well as her very close cousin Eric and his son Cayden.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">Our flight was as smooth as Morgan Freeman's voice. We jumped in two Chevrolet Cruzes. The "Z" let's you know that it's a revolutionary envisioning of what an American car industry strives to be...thank you Chevy...so groundbreaking with your whopping four cylinders and the <i>soupcon </i>of cloth on the dashboard...as if the car's going through some sort of puberty...anyhoo, these cars get us where we want to go. Thank you, Avis.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;">As soon as we were in the cars we zipped to lunch at my Valhalla...my Eden...the place that makes my most favorite beers in the world...the Kona Brewing Company. I love you Kona Brewing Company. If you ever need a hug, you can always count on me. </span><br />
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After we dranked and lunched and I had beer offerings that aren't available on the mainland (Curse you Kona Brewing Company, for split seconds at a time I hate you for this!) we headed to our humble abode for our stay... we rented an entire house at the Mauna Lani Resort...two stories of pure Hawaiian vibe. All the kiddies can run around and we can BBQ and lounge about together instead of being divided up into hotel rooms.</div>
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We rested for a few hours and then hit our first beach. A neat little pocket of blue water with "resort access" and calm laps of ocean that allowed the kids to sploosh about happily while we could watch on with our toes dug into fine sands and waving palm trees...</div>
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But the next day, we were on a mission to see a king and two beaches. Our first stop was the statue of King Kamehameha...</div>
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I think I was the most impressed by this statue...built in the late 1800's in France and lost at sea for years before being dragged up by fisherman and used as a storefront decoration before they realized what in the world they had...and now it is put up on a pedestal and loved by the locals. Nearby there was a tree with a caution sign. So all the adults, naturally, put their precious children underneath it for a fantastic photo opportunity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9czWN1CI9oxNKT0wY95_93PpfWSuU5VnLV_En_HIhPq-id1GvxF9asIwp62MyA-b27S-Wlm1yR25xF5odhsm8iAO5a_M4EqshtBYrjWARaP3lL-rzB0qa84dpSplHNM2nZY69C2l6gQgG/s1600/IMG_0015_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9czWN1CI9oxNKT0wY95_93PpfWSuU5VnLV_En_HIhPq-id1GvxF9asIwp62MyA-b27S-Wlm1yR25xF5odhsm8iAO5a_M4EqshtBYrjWARaP3lL-rzB0qa84dpSplHNM2nZY69C2l6gQgG/s1600/IMG_0015_2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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We then hit the road and traveled a bit further to check out a pretty sweet view at the Pololu Valley Lookout. It was a nice view and a great chance for more photos. Chase was pretty nervous one of the other kids would just step back over the edge and tumble through the brush below...</div>
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The road to and from this view made us all feel like we were in Jurassic Park, which was awesome to try to explain to the little kids what Jurassic Park was... A bit further back from whence we came the road was very rural and we kept seeing signs that said "Self Serve Fruit Stand" in which the locals would put out whatever fruit they grew and then, using the honor system, you left money for the fruit in a cash box left next to the fruit. I can't put my finger on it but something about this really stuck with me, and I've been thinking about it ever since. I wish more of the world could be like this... Eh screw it later we bounded back down the coast and hit a roadside offering of Huli Huli Chicken and ate it at Spencer Beach Park. </div>
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Spencer beach park is neat combination of camp ground and picnic area. The water was warm and refreshing after getting greasy but delicious chicken juice all over our bodies.<br />
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The one thing that is remarkable about this island is all of the lava rock everywhere. At least I think it's lava rock. It makes the scenery we zip by be that much more mysterious and different...that is when we aren't rolling down the windows to make the kids giggle.<br />
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Let me get real for a second. This vacation is all about beach time. It's what all the kids like most and, frankly, it's what my mind needs right now. So after we swam about at Spencer Beach we then moved on to Hapuna Beach...white sands and big waves. And then today all we did was snorkel at Kahalu'u Bay...where the kids and I saw a sea turtle... and then we went right back to our little beach near our house for some easy-going splashing and drinks....<br />
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Tomorrow...we pay a visit to a volcano! Are we all happy about the long drive? I say...YES. WE ALL ARE!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-40867427408744442152013-09-02T01:03:00.000-07:002013-09-02T15:42:10.790-07:00"FUN" IS LIKE A VIRUS...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Alright so here's the deal. I didn't blog every day. In fact, the last blog I wrote was right after our mystery cab ride. And now it's over a week later and...we're all home. I'm typing this in my bedroom- <i>"where the magic happens"</i>- at my desk. The magic being my writing.<br />
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So much has happened and I didn't keep a daily blog. Why? Because, A) I was on vacation. And B) when on a cruise ship the working internet is about as rare as a Cinnebon that was "totally worth it." So my motivation, for lack of a more charming term, to write on a daily basis was <i>for shit</i>. But I'm smarht. I've got brains and a memory and photos and Tiffany proofreading to reminding me. We made memories with no regrets. We had an adventure of a lifetime...<br />
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So backtrack with me. But don't get all worked up if you catch a typo because I'm in a state which you will read about later...</div>
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It's true...nothing makes a person feel more superior than being in the presence of animals that are there purely for our entertainment... but the day after trekking through Disney's Wild Animal Kingdom we hit the other "Wild Side" of entertainment...Disney's Hollywood Studios.<br />
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There were some good rides. Tower of Terror was a tad different than the one in Anaheim...the elevator rolls through a hallway before the plummet stuff...and there is a great roller coaster that goes from full stop right into a loop- aaand soundtracked by Aerosmith...not bad...although Aerosmith, eh... The entire premise of the ride was that "The Guys"-being Aerosmith- invited us all backstage and their manager has taken the trouble to get us a "super stretch" limo to get us there through all that LA traffic. (Pssst! The super stretch is the roller coaster!) The band members had dialogue to expository speak all this up and it was prett-y obvious why they are rockers. Overall, I have to say that Disney's Hollywood Studios was our least favorite theme park. And if you live in the land of California-Luvin' then don't even waste your time and shekels when in Orlando. It's merely a mish-mash of Disneyland and California Adventure. All of it.</div>
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One really cool thing that was there was a giant imperial walker peeking out through the trees. Chase, as avid of a Star Wars fan as I am, was more than ready to re-enact a scene where she was a scoundrel durilian smuggler on the run from the Evil Empire.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhku5JinUVlyl5Yhyphenhyphenq7VKEPqrfY2v0-rO53-87ac8xMseHHAJUk2iOCNgEuyoElRbYxj0zd2TCCGIf51H4cUU5DOwnekWHW6ps-UJDmr9CF1vNGXyyBCHGLUOwCSlyD3ccYnEJZHUbzNbl4/s1600/IMG_7558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhku5JinUVlyl5Yhyphenhyphenq7VKEPqrfY2v0-rO53-87ac8xMseHHAJUk2iOCNgEuyoElRbYxj0zd2TCCGIf51H4cUU5DOwnekWHW6ps-UJDmr9CF1vNGXyyBCHGLUOwCSlyD3ccYnEJZHUbzNbl4/s320/IMG_7558.jpg" width="240" /></a>Here's the thing about my nine year-old. I cherish how she's still "game" for most things. That<i> tweenie</i> self-consciousness hasn't yet seeped into her brain. <br />
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Chase is ready to be goofy. And I love it. One day it will change, as it does with all of us. When it happened with Charlie it literally was overnight. She woke up one morning and was different. <br />
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That's why with Chase I really try to take in every moment of her kid-hood to the fullest. <br />
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They did have a "TRAM TOUR" a la Universal Studios Hollywood, but by the end of it we weren't sure if it was just all a hoax. The Tram tour took twenty minutes and literally went in a veeerrrrry slow, fifty yard diameter figure-eight pattern, where we passed by "vehicles used in some movies you might recognize" then finally culminating with some "special effects" behind the scenes humbuggery where a tanker truck catches aflame during a flood storm. <br />
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As I said, by the end of it, I felt hoodywinkled. Then by the end of the day we tried to catch the Indiana Jones stunt show, but an actual DELUGE storm, sans out of control exploding tanker truck, poured down outside. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked and the show was cancelled for everyone's safety. We bought two umbrellas and had italian for dinner near the hotel. </div>
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The next day was a big one... for Tribe Yu were arriving during the afternoon to rendezvous with Tribe Dodge. But that was the afternoon and we still had most of the day to fill so what did we decide to do? </div>
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WE WENT BACK TO HARRY POTTER LAND!</div>
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<i>Muggle whhhaaaaat?</i></div>
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We were jonesin' for more butter beer and the dragon roller coaster and Harry Potter vibe. And it was worth it- as maniacal as it might sound. WORTH IT I TELL YOU! WORTH IT!<br />
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But the afternoon came soon enough and Charlie and I went to the airport to meet up with Joyce, George, Tyler and Piper. </div>
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This vacation was very significant. Sure, we've done little jaunts to Vegas together and stuff like that, but this was going to be our first true "big family vacation" since any of the kids have come along. This was also a big deal because so many people were coming that by default both Tiffany and Joyce were going to be having to run ground support for any vacation logistical challenges. A daunting premise to say the least. But one that they were very happy to take on. Joyce even recruited Charlie to design the official family vacation shirt.</div>
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We found the Yus and then all of us shuttled to the hotel to rest up...because the next day...<br />
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WE WERE CRUISIN'.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvSQ67CdlOT4bNvF0ZnOdOYKJsRHMH_B_PKf9B7KBlrojrcQw-OSh7AXozlrwIudttMO8W5qDEkV0ezfeF8rMyqwgOcJCDyy8z3rcfRpgVNbCQ2C1OHeLLWaqLC6bUIu7igjk4CYvwHO-/s1600/IMG_7584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvSQ67CdlOT4bNvF0ZnOdOYKJsRHMH_B_PKf9B7KBlrojrcQw-OSh7AXozlrwIudttMO8W5qDEkV0ezfeF8rMyqwgOcJCDyy8z3rcfRpgVNbCQ2C1OHeLLWaqLC6bUIu7igjk4CYvwHO-/s320/IMG_7584.JPG" width="239" /></a>At the crack of dawn the rest of the family was flying in. Tiffany's Dad, Mom, Aunt, Cousin Eric, Cayden (who was so excited he arrived already wearing his swim goggles.) , as well as a basketload of Tiffany's Parents' friends. Tiffany had it all organized like a military operation. Armed with a three ring binder, Tiffany had everyone's confirmations, boarding passes, ticket slips, and other info...<i>in triplicate.</i> I gotta tell you Tiffany's organization on this was a work of fucking art. Sure, Van Gogh could paint. But could he help an eighty five year old man board a ship without his passport because he left his passport in his luggage which he already checked on to the ship- yet he himself could not be allowed on board because he didn't have his passport? I think Vincent would have just killed himself right then and there. </div>
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So we all met, breakfasted, then boarded the Carnival Ecstasy! Oh Carnival. <br />
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Once we boarded I got that same feeling I did the first two times. Hearing that electronic <i>BONG</i> after you first put your cruise id card in the machine, confirming that your existence on this ship is fo' real. The smell of the interior of the Lido deck. The Mai Tais. The water slides for the kids. The Mai Tais. The Mai Tais. The ocean. Our balcony view. The Mai Tais.</div>
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It's all the reasons why, against every natural instinct of my personality...I really enjoy cruising. And now I can share the magic with MORE loved ones. I think I was the most excited when first aboard.<br />
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*****<br />
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Day one of our water adventure was FREEPORT! There, we found a pretty beach...and maybe a Cuban Cigar or three...and just simmered in the sun and the view. This particular cruise we weren't keen on having many active adventures....just beaching mostly....and Tiffany's folks and their friends were keen on one thing in particular. CASINOOOOOO. On the boat and at every port.<br />
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The beach was beautiful but to me the most memorable moment of that visit was watching Joyce lock horns with the taxi van driver while waiting to be transported back to the dock.<br />
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Joyce: <i>Why aren't we leaving yet?</i><br />
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Taxi person: <i>Da van isn't full.</i><br />
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Joyce: <i>Well how many people do we need to make the van full? My kids are hot.</i><br />
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Taxi person: <i>Two.</i><br />
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Joyce: <i>Well, when will they come?</i><br />
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Taxi person: <i>Dey always come. It won't be long.</i><br />
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Joyce: <i>I don't understand this. You said a taxi leaves every half hour but now you're saying if we don't get someone else by then then you won't take us? So if someone doesn't show up for a few hours then we have to wait? We paid for a taxi and now you're saying we can't go?</i><br />
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Taxi person: <i> How cyan da van go if it isn't full?</i><br />
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It was so big city mouse vs. island-time mouse. Something to think about. For the record, and my safety, I totally fuckin' agree with Joyce. The kids were hot. And so was Joyce's temper, <i>WAPISH! TSSS!</i></div>
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By the time we got back on the boat Charlie was in full CIRCLE C club (a club for teens to do legal stuff) mode. And this girl leaned into it with VIGOR. Every day she was gone at 4pm and didn't come back until 1230 or 1. Every once in awhile Eric, George and I would tipsily stumble over to where she was to check up on her, and we see her chatting up other chatty teens. I'm pretty sure Charlie had the best time of us all. Truth be told I didn't really see much of Charlie during the cruise. I have snippets of memories of her coming in late...one time with a glow necklace...another time with glow in the dark sunglasses... kind of a change from the last cruise when she'd proudly show me whatever artsy craft she'd done at her kid's cruise camp.</div>
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All the other kids, in general, ran hot and cold on the on-ship camp facilities. But between us all, there always seemed to be a room with an adult where Chase could play with her cousins when camp wasn't calling her interests.</div>
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The next day we anchored off the coast of an island owned by Carnival called Half Moon Cay. This place was beautiful and there was enough space for all the beach-going passengers. The sand was pale and nearly as fine as soot and the water as blue as the drinks the Carnival Staff were trying to sell. We had a full day at the beach and it was lovely swimming with the Ecstasy bobbing in the background. I personally feel it was one of the highlights of the cruise, and if anyone disagrees I just might fight them.<br />
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I have to say that it was fun having Eric and George on board with me to enjoy libation with, although because there were so many other people we were with I didn't have as much chill time with Tiffany. I'm not sure if she minded that much. Maybe that was as she planned. Heh. This particular night, after Half Moon Cay, George introduced me to a Long Island Iced Tea. Never had one before. I've always just had the straight stuff...none of them big city mixed drinks... I have to say, me likey. I aim to have Tiffany try one...muaahahaha.<br />
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But there was something else important about this day. </div>
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THIS WAS THE DAY THAT CHARLIE DODGE TURNED 13.</div>
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Unholy Christ. I'm the father of a teen. Please hope for the best for us all. I feel like a town that is boarding up its windows and looting all the water in preparation for a hurricane...</div>
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So we sang happy birthday and had a great time at dinner...and Charlie then zipped off to her Circle C kids club.</div>
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Day three saw our ship to Nassau. How do I explain Nassau...here's the thing...didn't know exactly what to expect from a cruise to the bahamas...but I literally thought it was going to be a very quiet, pristine experience where all that could be heard were the turquoise waves and me gulping my Mai Tais. I thought this and after having been on two other cruises! I know. What a rube. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyLG2cL9VwLiD8oa0VjW9Ec7xVjewjm8M4bBshrC5MDpTjl3ZqhOka4inHP8V60pLvzkwdDI-eO0a0LLq2s9aZUpSSB5Pro6RgmhcoIR4h7Yk7RGSXxWYTF0H8P6-VdJL5kq0QnZmaPky/s1600/IMG_7690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyLG2cL9VwLiD8oa0VjW9Ec7xVjewjm8M4bBshrC5MDpTjl3ZqhOka4inHP8V60pLvzkwdDI-eO0a0LLq2s9aZUpSSB5Pro6RgmhcoIR4h7Yk7RGSXxWYTF0H8P6-VdJL5kq0QnZmaPky/s320/IMG_7690.JPG" width="240" /></a>Alas, Nassau was just like most ports-o-calls- the moment we stepped off the boat it was a virtual D-Day style assault of Carnival Cruise folk demanding we pose for pictures they would try to sell to us back on board later that day, then a mere few steps later we got hammered by taxi drivers, vendors, hair weavers, people offering tours, cold water, drinks, food, scooters. We couldn't walk five feet without being aggressively hit up. And it was hot. And steamy. And the kids were in no mood for adventure. For Nassau was not to be a beach visit...but rather...a walking-about visit of the city. We decided to check out the Queen's Staircase as well as the houses of government stuff. We trudged in the heat...over skinny sidewalks and whizzing, honking cars. A fusillade of sweat blinded us. My shirt looked like I was lactating. (By the way I've always held that if men lactated beer there'd be no more war.) <br />
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Finally, before we got to the Queen's Staircase, we had a mutiny on our hands. Everyone but two brave souls peeled off from this Bahamian death march to return back to the boat. And those two brave souls were Tiffany and her loyal husband.</div>
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Come on! Right?! We're here so why not make the most of it! <i>The Queen's Freaking Staircase? </i>How many times do you get to climb a staircase generally named after a queen? Just its title alone suggested so many steps we'd probably shit ourselves silly trying to climb them. What a challenge to write home about! But the wife and I were game. So after the "poo poo party" left us for tame things like "air conditioning" and "cold water" we were all the more resolved to make the Queen's Staircase our royal little bitch. All nine thousand and eighty three and a three quarters steps of it...<i>cue electric guitar soloooooo bwwwaaaarrr!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXmZixZ9gAVrYn0pBCuS7s3x-_PHqTWEm-vtEB-p8cMnnmiQpkDj8-kBr57hDAslAhx3kbCH0-RmTHIjdlILD6qhCj0Z3Uz4Q5KpnVDWviYdnagQgXkPWdgQB5ul_GG9_FDPik0deZns0/s1600/IMG_7701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXmZixZ9gAVrYn0pBCuS7s3x-_PHqTWEm-vtEB-p8cMnnmiQpkDj8-kBr57hDAslAhx3kbCH0-RmTHIjdlILD6qhCj0Z3Uz4Q5KpnVDWviYdnagQgXkPWdgQB5ul_GG9_FDPik0deZns0/s320/IMG_7701.JPG" width="320" /></a>Okay. Truth be told there are only sixty five steps at the Queen's Staircase. I mean, my heart got working a little bit. Maybe. Frankly, I've had to take more stairs walking back to my car after an 'SC game. But the journey is what is important, not the destination! And speaking of destination, once we tackled the staircase- we were but a gasp away from a little old fort on Bennet's Hill. A FORT! Oh, the kids would just be bleeding out of their eyes with jealousy once we told them about the old cannons we saw! And the sumptuous view of the entire island at the highest point of the fort. Joyce, George and Eric would be rolling around on the floor, wildly yanking at their tongues with raucous regret when they found out we got to see the entire fort for ONLY A DOLLAR. See, you went to the ticket booth and paid a dollar and got a ticket...then you walked five steps and deposited previously mentioned bought ticket into an unmanned box, and you were in, BABY! Victory was ours. And we capped it off with a Bahamian beer and some Conch Fritters. Don't worry about how the fritters were-mere details. But the beer was cold and rewarding. And Tiffany and I had our adventure. And it was nice to spend a looney moment or two with just my woman. Turns out the kids were, in fact, NOT jealous in the least. Joyce and the others were NOT regretful. I don't think they understood what we did. I'll keep trying to convince them on their loss that day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnbyIjFj8f3jrelzr0oPRcSl_Uh2i8dWDzadCiI5G7wze4pv1JkFULaZfFq3vzA7-ObvNdFVyorHW70rIVyOYYebffMjfUcl1bpyN28twHvjjY9uaBphh9Vikv80bhcQ4TY46NGoiSpPH/s1600/IMG_7711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnbyIjFj8f3jrelzr0oPRcSl_Uh2i8dWDzadCiI5G7wze4pv1JkFULaZfFq3vzA7-ObvNdFVyorHW70rIVyOYYebffMjfUcl1bpyN28twHvjjY9uaBphh9Vikv80bhcQ4TY46NGoiSpPH/s320/IMG_7711.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JZWfpscvqrFsugwwlu5B-ZJsPA4nkfjkibAwx_mEXhW6EgFaLwPYXX6QcqUW8_QeELYp5JhFIBWbHOBHJwhrY8z-j_j7A1Ob5fqv5CrHsT6ywLvTbL-dZNm6RNYm5zGvNvRqMZRe1zVS/s1600/IMG_7712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JZWfpscvqrFsugwwlu5B-ZJsPA4nkfjkibAwx_mEXhW6EgFaLwPYXX6QcqUW8_QeELYp5JhFIBWbHOBHJwhrY8z-j_j7A1Ob5fqv5CrHsT6ywLvTbL-dZNm6RNYm5zGvNvRqMZRe1zVS/s320/IMG_7712.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But even though I couldn't convince them of their loss, my mood was solid because the next day was the day I had been looking forward to the most. My favorite day on a cruise. The "Day At Sea." Just a full day of cruising in the ocean. No hustle, bustle ports o-call stuff. Just relaxing and enjoying the sea... it was the day, months earlier, I would ebulliently describe to the family during the pitch to get them to join us on the cruise. So I was sooooo looking forward to my day at sea...</div>
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But then I got a little tickle in my throat as I was going to bed while planning my "drink protocol" for my day at sea. Later in the evening that tickle turned into a scratch. Very quickly the scratch turned into pain. And by two in the morning, my throat was so sore and swollen that I couldn't even swallow.</div>
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I was sick. Not just "sick" sick. Nay. I had contracted what felt like the plague. For the next twenty-four hours I was bed-ridden. Every point in my body ached with contagion and I could feel my chest just filling with fluid. All I had to eat was a little soup and bread. And just like that my day at sea was lost. Lost to some sort of viral pestillence that specifically hated me. </div>
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I was so sick that I was starting to really worry about the immediate future. The day after our day at sea our cruise was done! We were getting off the boat in the morning and taking a quick jaunt to the Kennedy Space Center- then in the afternoon flying back home! Just ONE of those enterprises seemed utterly impossible to me at that moment. I wasn't sure what in the hell I was going to do. If I couldn't stand for more than a minute, how was I going to get off the boat?! So I just kept thinking to myself, "I'm getting better, I feel myself getting better..." The only time I wasn't sleeping was when the discomfort of my existence woke me up. A particularly painful moment was when Tiffany popped in to the room and took my free drink vouchers, planned by me for my morning bloody maries, so that they could be enjoyed by others. I didn't even want to look at the water. I tried to sleep out on the balcony but the scourge was driving any enjoyment out of my mine. Every time the tv showed the "boat cam" of everyone outside having fun on dec I felt a deep sting in my angry, phlegmy heart. <i>Carnival Ecstasy. </i> You know who was in ecstasy that day? The fuckin' virus that was feeding on my soul. The tables had turned, oh indeed! <i>I</i> was now the funship and there were thousands of obnoxious, gluttonous passengers taking ME out for a spin...</div>
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I'd been having stress dreams all during the cruise for some reason. The first night I dreamed that one of the spelling bee words in my film was actually misspelled and the error was such a big embarrassment that my career was over before it had even begun. That dream woke me and made me pop right up out of bed- which was an egregious error because the head of the bed was under a bunk unit...so I sprang up only to brain myself back to sleep. The next night I dreamed that at my film's premiere it was revealed the movie was completely changed, rewritten, and reshot by someone else...and awful. The next night I dreamed that I had committed a murder I hadn't remembered committing, and George had deduced that I had done it and was going to turn me in. (Thanks, Stress-Dream-George.) But the night of my illness my fever dreams weren't of fears or anxieties. They were nothing but shapes and colors fluorescents swirled with deep blues. A junk heap of cuboids and cones and boxes littered with intermingled wiry squiggles. Some impression told me that they were all on my chest. But as the night went on, they left one by one. Until the only shape left was a perfect cube. And finally, at five a.m. I awoke to the thought that the cube was gone. And I couldn't believe it, but I was better. Not completely. But I could shower, and eat, and most importantly for that day's itinerarial demands...<i>move. </i> </div>
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So the day came to say goodbye to the Carnival Ecstasy. In the past getting off the ship has been incredibly hard for me. But I was so focused on keeping my shit together that it seemed all I wanted was off the boat. </div>
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By the time we got to the Kennedy Space Center I was feeling, if nothing else, emboldened by the success of my disembarking triumph. I wish we had more time at the KSC. It was amazing. Not to go off on a rant here, but I truly feel that The Kennedy Space Center is one of the few places on earth that man has created that stands as a testament to his greatest accomplishment. Words can't describe looking out at Launch Site 39- where all the Apollo and Shuttles thundered off from. The visit didn't do it justice, and one day I hope to return. </div>
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Chase on the space pooper.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o7SpcH-sMoT_xLJpg0BptJ0OjmPPA9wWMwtlaw4QHzlT3adwH5JggU6khWvB1ODSfltgbkW9dpR36uywfZ6kcJw6BjrzYcYvRP_70ZT5U6nFCBhLuhT1_sUxOC3V1Xc_lGOkWTAC2En0/s1600/IMG_7746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o7SpcH-sMoT_xLJpg0BptJ0OjmPPA9wWMwtlaw4QHzlT3adwH5JggU6khWvB1ODSfltgbkW9dpR36uywfZ6kcJw6BjrzYcYvRP_70ZT5U6nFCBhLuhT1_sUxOC3V1Xc_lGOkWTAC2En0/s320/IMG_7746.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">One awesome note, though...we got to see the Shuttle Atlantis. That makes THREE shuttles that I've seen in person. I saw Columbia land. I've seen the Endeavor in its recent arrival in Los Angeles. And now, Atlantis. The way they set up the craft was amazing. Pitched at an angle with the bay doors open. God Damn, we can do some amazing stuff when we really want to. Some people like to try to see every baseball park in the U.S. I think an even nobler goal would be to try to see every shuttle exhibit...</span></div>
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So not much later I found myself on the Virgin America flight back to Los Angeles, my head filling with congestion and swirling with memories of our two-week vacation. Even though it ended with illness and injury (George damn near broke his hand while playing a punching bag video game in the ship's arcade and Joyce was starting to feel sick, too.) I can say that it was an amazing time. Fuck, you know...I really hate the word "amazing," now. All of its value has been sucked out of it by pop culture. I think a more accurate term would be...wondrous. Yes, that feels better. It was a wondrous time. I can't quantify being able to experience new things with Charlie and Chase. Every vacation is different, because of locale as well as the girls are getting older. That means all the moments and memories make you a better member of the family in different ways. That's what I think. And this time, too, I was able to spend time with Tyler, Piper, and Cayden. I can't wait to blaze the high seas with those little sea dogs again! And to be able to spend time with Joyce and George and Eric, when we get each other laughing there is nothing better...</div>
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A pilot was riding in the row in front of me and at one point glared at me and my suppressed sniffles and phlem-rattling chest, all the while reaching up to open up the air vent above him to <i>full</i>- I would assume in the hopes to keep my emitting scourge away from him. The glare was a prick move, and he did try to soften it by making it seem as if he was checking out the rest of the cabin behind us. But I know he meant it for me. And I don't blame him. I was gross, but needed to get home. I had my face in tissue the whole time as my head was getting crushed by the adjusting cabin pressure. A hilarious low point was as I was shuffling to the back of the plane to get more tissue from the bathroom, out of the corner of my bulging eyes I saw a dollop of snot jump from my nose, like a huge, glorious raindrop. Without even thinking twice I caught it in my hand like a lucky penny. A pretty swift move if I might say so myself. I don't know for sure but I think some horrified passenger on the aisle in front of my approach witnessed this odd event. I can only guess how long she held her breath for the remainder of the flight.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dodge Four's official Press Photo</td></tr>
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So now it's about one in the morning in Arcadia as I'm wrapping this up. And I'm off to heal a bit. But not for long because even more exciting adventures await!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-82440619209292766892013-08-23T20:54:00.003-07:002013-08-23T20:55:37.091-07:00Expelliarmus Sweatus!<div>
Tonight, the QuaDodge were speeding down highway 4 in a light blue crown vic from the 80s with nothing more than a "For Hire" sign magnetized to the top. Not "Taxi" but "For Hire." Inside, there wasn't any "Your Cab Driver is..." type stuff anywhere. Also, no meter. Our driver happily told us "Twenty Bucks" right before we got in. But we were dazed and exhausted...and we simply hoped for the best...</div>
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But how did we end up in an unmarked illegal taxi driven by a guy who practically introduced himself to us as "Twenty Bucks?"</div>
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Let's go back to yesterday.</div>
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Yesterday kicked my ass. I think yesterday kicked all of our asses. Yesterday was HARRY POTTER LAND! <i> Expelliarmus Sweatus!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4TObiYuwEI8TDQGAVynmRCpin1KoGRLYNlnxtM650GOIGH0IQc1mlWzqbGgbpkMnjJY28B39BzkV_QIGUriN5ljvFVfU3ACcq_0ifIIcIuPIL3kNi41pdp0igyVR_w-KpjOkg1Z9Hves/s1600/IMG_7443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4TObiYuwEI8TDQGAVynmRCpin1KoGRLYNlnxtM650GOIGH0IQc1mlWzqbGgbpkMnjJY28B39BzkV_QIGUriN5ljvFVfU3ACcq_0ifIIcIuPIL3kNi41pdp0igyVR_w-KpjOkg1Z9Hves/s320/IMG_7443.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Harry Potter Land was absobrilliantlutely wonderful. Located on Universal Studios' "Island of Adventure," we knew it was going to be crowded. But as with every theme park- money talks. Tiffany and I resolved to pay Universal's coldly calculated 50 bucks-a-person for their version of a fast pass. The kicker, though, is that they are only good for each ride <i>once.</i> But I'm telling you, it was worth it. Because without that wisely spent money, we wouldn't have been able to tackle every ride. Now, I'm not going to go into details for the rides...</div>
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The Forbidden Journey is the most amazing ride in existence! It is so wild that this following notice is posted... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6yyACVlWK18iPy3wXV8qDAejELZoSLUaPUisNISl4RzpaGITXEbMXV3Fo7wwWbmQlEfpXtIfPaV8n0fdAzr7ZM9NYw0UFY8PJUBuZcV7kUtr7m_r5BObjfUmDxv_5BQCZTLIK66IJ9q_Z/s1600/IMG_7449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6yyACVlWK18iPy3wXV8qDAejELZoSLUaPUisNISl4RzpaGITXEbMXV3Fo7wwWbmQlEfpXtIfPaV8n0fdAzr7ZM9NYw0UFY8PJUBuZcV7kUtr7m_r5BObjfUmDxv_5BQCZTLIK66IJ9q_Z/s320/IMG_7449.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But I <i>will</i> wax poetic about how finely detailed this place is. I always assumed that the park would have been based solely on the movie. But the details of this place were also true to the books as well. It was sort of beautiful in many ways. If you love Harry Potter (If you don't, you're either stubborn or can't read.) then you would adore this place. </div>
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AND THE BUTTER BEER! Butter beer butter beer....God Damn that butter beer. It was exactly as I imagined.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhMZdWmuQk-1cydyOixAxzDNTXW-JQK3lrNp0k9CXShHyaF0_nLfI1H9_j6gpRq6oFEq5ztHces8zLHh_Kyk02cCox_AIIgA4-NI74o7APoyLEBIPixhgdI-nKlDqwVj_2O-uDwWPBzqS/s1600/IMG_7444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhMZdWmuQk-1cydyOixAxzDNTXW-JQK3lrNp0k9CXShHyaF0_nLfI1H9_j6gpRq6oFEq5ztHces8zLHh_Kyk02cCox_AIIgA4-NI74o7APoyLEBIPixhgdI-nKlDqwVj_2O-uDwWPBzqS/s320/IMG_7444.jpg" width="240" /></a>And the tourists are maniacs here. I think many of them think this place is the actual site of historical events. People were spending just sick gobs of money on stuff- wands, candy, brooms, hats, etc, as if they thought they were really preparing their kids for Hogwarts. Wands were 30 bucks a pop! Hogwarts robes were 108 bucks! Yet kids were running around with both. Crazy. </div>
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But the Island of Adventure had other areas and other attractions...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGs_t91qfgmx70HxyIcEciWnRPuirfomTK8ZfvB8fmWuIc90Qwd4vlUxWbvv-0cz_efGxjeM3GOI94xX0lbqpBUDQySnAkuAUaoP2CSe4okBLTtuiNPaQpw_-tYkQty-PiketOfNLWbtQ/s1600/IMG_7452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGs_t91qfgmx70HxyIcEciWnRPuirfomTK8ZfvB8fmWuIc90Qwd4vlUxWbvv-0cz_efGxjeM3GOI94xX0lbqpBUDQySnAkuAUaoP2CSe4okBLTtuiNPaQpw_-tYkQty-PiketOfNLWbtQ/s320/IMG_7452.JPG" width="320" /></a><i>Dr. Seuss had a land and it was quite grand! </i></div>
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<i>We went on those rides, just as was planned. </i></div>
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<i>We spunned a spin on Cat in the Hat,.</i></div>
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<i>We went on flying fish where water was spat. </i></div>
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<i>We walked and walked and walked around.</i></div>
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<i>We sweated so much, I thought I would drown. </i></div>
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<i>We walked so much, I begged to be put down.</i></div>
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<i>For Orlando is hot, it's hotter than hell.</i></div>
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<i>It's even hotter than a biggle borg bell. </i></div>
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<i>Seuss rides were nice, but kind of tame.</i></div>
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<i>So the girls wanted to up their game.</i></div>
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<i>We left Seuss land. We decided to flee.</i></div>
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<i>And went to Marvel world to get on Spidey 3D...</i></div>
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Alright, enough of that. I never got my Doctorate in rhyme so I'm not qualified.</div>
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We wrung every penny's worth out of our Express Pass tickets. We hit the Marvel Section...then we hit this odd cartoon land where there was a Dudley Do-right log ride. Right? Strange. Then we did ole' Jurassic Park. Kerploosh. Raaar. We got very wet.</div>
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And then we went back to Harry Potter land for more butter beer and rides.</div>
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By the end of the day, we were all broken in half from all the fun. Two solid days of Theme Parkery in Orlando's unforgiving weather oppression had sapped all of us. As we left Harry Potter Land the reprise music from the third film's end credit sequence was finishing...it was the perfect farewell.... </div>
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And that's why this morning we were all creaky when we rose out of bed.</div>
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But Disney's Wild Animal Park was calling...</div>
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And damn it was hot again. Simply put, I looked like a leaky boat walking around. The animals looked upon me with disgust. There were only a handful of rides. One of them was an amazing roller coaster involving the Yeti. Backwards, and in the dark. No, I'm not describing the Christian Right. I'm talkin' about this Yeti ride. A-Mazing.</div>
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But I have to say I kept thinking over and over today about how, more than all of the rides, I am appreciating these moments with Tiffany and the girls. It's just a damn shame that most days out of the year we are simply <i>pushing along</i> together. But during vacation time, we are actually learning ABOUT each other. Simply because alllll of the daily bullshit is set aside for a awhile. It's pure treasure. It makes me happy and remorsefull all at once.</div>
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But all the family bonding in the world can't undo the damage all this fun is wreaking on our bodies. Ultimately, exhaustion effects one's state of mind...and that's how we ended up...well...</div>
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It was almost ten p.m. tonight by the time the QuaDodge (sweaty, sticky, sore, chaffed, exhausted, blistered, somewhat limping- and that was only me!) had stumbled around the parking lot of Disney Hollywood...all the way to the "taxi" driver section. We didn't even go to Disney Hollywood today-that's where we are going tomorrow. When we were done with the Wild Animal Park we bussed to Downtown Disney for dinner, and then in a strange turn of events we ended up like wandering refugees desperately trying to get to the promised land. From Downtown Disney we took an hour long bus ride, then a boat, and finally realized we had to take a taxi instead of trying to get to catch two more buses back to our hotel... The joke of it all is that all of these parks aren't <i>that</i> far from one another....In aforementioned parking lot we came across all the drivers were clustered together, shooting the breeze and waiting for tourists who needed to go home. Before we were even across the crosswalk one of the drivers broke off from the group and called to us, "Taxi? Taxi" Then another stepped forward and said, "No, I will take you!" Then they started arguing in some language I couldn't recognize and finally one of them just led us to his car...</div>
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But we made it to the hotel, safe and sound. Should we have insisted on a driver who wasn't simply trying to hustle up a living? Maybe. But I can't feel my body. Or rather, I can feel ALL of my body. </div>
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Now, I must shower and apply all sorts of ointments to my everything...</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-25860251307980085432013-08-21T21:31:00.004-07:002013-08-21T21:31:53.316-07:00SWEATCOT<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkGRA75yksywPLJHrLlELey5U97N0CoOQ8zki0LrCVm4PAorUvoIWPfcWu509ECY0MEw3U5kbzEOI2ddXPKg3Ua_Xk4a3SYX9i7sO24ekd64G5R_Soz3XDq9GUH0jMxoccffObbO3E2Y6/s1600/IMG_7386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtkGRA75yksywPLJHrLlELey5U97N0CoOQ8zki0LrCVm4PAorUvoIWPfcWu509ECY0MEw3U5kbzEOI2ddXPKg3Ua_Xk4a3SYX9i7sO24ekd64G5R_Soz3XDq9GUH0jMxoccffObbO3E2Y6/s320/IMG_7386.jpg" width="240" /></a>Ho man, am I tired. So very tired. I can barely think straight I'm so tired. We flew into Orlando yesterday and the moment the sun came up this morning we shuttled over to EPCOT...wellllll over an hour before opening...THEN SPENT THE NEXT TWELVE HOURS THERE. Did you read that? Did you? The next twelve hours. And you know, the one thing that they never tell you..."they" being the Florida board of tourism...is that it's prehistorically hot here. Sweaty hot. Steamy hot. Every pore in your body turns into a geyser of liquid, salt and anger. You can feel the heat beating up off of the pavement. And then later in the day...it rained! It rained a couple of times...then hot even steamier. Damn it's hot. <br />
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None of the Jammie Dodgers have ever been to Epcot before- or any theme park in Florida...I won't bother doing the blow by blow of each ride at Epcot. All I can say is, I loved Spaceship Earth- Disney Ca doesn't have rides on that level of cheese anymore and it was like getting a slow, rocking hug from an old drunk friend when our Spaceship Earth personmobile rounded the track inside that big beautiful tin testicle and I saw the animatronic caveman moving around like he was having a frozen seizure. So nice. <br />
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Epcot's World Showcase was pretty impressive. The attention to detail seemed pretty good. I mean in "China" they sold Mr. Brown Coffee! You can't get more authentic than that. By the way, did you know that "NI HAO" means hello in Chinese? If you didn't, go to Epcot and you'll find out. At Dinner, Charlie even sketched personalities for each of the countries in the World Showcase on our paper tablecloth. By the way, not ever wanting to be without her sketchbook and pencil- Charlie dutifully carried them along with her all day.<br />
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But I think everyone's favorite part of the World Showcase was Britain. Hard to explain why. Maybe it was because they sold Guinness and had superb fish and chips. Maybe it was because everyone there had a British Accent. It's hard to tell for sure, but we really had a jolly good time in that particular part.<br />
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But to me, the complete day maker, the total theme park WIN- was the AMERICAN ADVENTURE show in the America area. It's like great Moments with Lincoln (A true favorite of mine at Disney Ca) BUT STEROIDS! Animatronic Mark Twain! Talking to Animatronic Benjamin Franklin! Are you shitting me?! Telling the story of America? And then there's ANIMATRONIC FDR...WHAAAAT? We only stumbled into the place because of the rain...and once I realized what was about to unfurl before my sweaty eyes I started to get jittery with excitement. No joke. Ask the wife. I was nearly a giggling fool.<br />
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The truly remarkable thing about Epcot is the open space. Lakes, fountains, grassy hills...just open space. It was so nice. And although some spots were a tad crowded...nothing ever felt crowded. Epcot itself can be best described as vast. I never expected that at all. And it was wonderful. The other worth mentioning...everything is educational. I don't get it. I'm not used to it. But I found it a pleasant surprise. So here you have a theme park that isn't crowded, is educational, and every square inch of it isn't crowded with self promoting rides based on movies that were based on rides based on movies...I'm glad we finally made it to Epcot because I just don't ever see a place like this being allowed to exist much longer.<br />
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We finished up the day eating in Morocco and then dragged out sweaty asses to the shuttle to get back to the hotel. Not a bad opening day for "Invasion Orlando '13."<br />
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But tomorrow. .. Tomorrow fills my heart with a dread of iced sweat. Tomorrow we hit Harry Potter Land. I know it's called something else- but really that's what it is. Harry Potter Land- where half the population of Orlando will probably be. The heart of darkness and lines....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-15101790863272135832011-12-21T17:23:00.000-08:002011-12-21T17:24:34.954-08:00A SHORT STORY BY CHARLIE DODGECHRISTMAS AFTER ALL<div><br /></div><div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>“But Ken, what if Santa can’t afford to give us presents this year?” he fretted.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I replied, though deep down, I was worried too.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Not because I believed in Santa, oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. I was </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">worried about Ray. I didn’t want him to have a horrible holiday.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>“Go get something sweet for Ray and yourself Kenneth,” she said softly, “you two deserve it,” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>“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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Kokonor"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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. </span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-47892402366374899372011-08-30T01:33:00.000-07:002011-08-30T09:14:57.862-07:00TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES...DONE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzW3FNk4zpPJioQQGXEt_z84lHqcyhh9OPV7kXQ-Dtj4sPIHDlB_6un67z0p1Ga70w7BfPZVigoP7AZghnLpVYTf2Yq5b04QgKcmNrn21U2_EdDn8Yn6aZXoHNFZ2P_u82sdy28msLGoxs/s1600/IMG_0689.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
<br />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:<div>
<br /></div><div>http://www.yelp.com/biz/bryce-view-lodge-bryce-canyon#hrid:rJhWAUUqa0l2QzPPitsFiw</div><div>
<br /></div><div>But hey, you can't win them all, right?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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:</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px; "><i>I'm ready
<br />I'm ready for the laughing gas
<br />I'm ready
<br />I'm ready for what's next
<br />I'm ready to duck
<br />I'm ready to dive
<br />I'm ready to say
<br />I'm glad to be alive
<br />I'm ready
<br />I'm ready for the push.</i></span></div><div>
<br /></div><div>I am so fuckin' ready for the push!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5015557</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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:</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Then, as one does in Vegas...we all went and had milkshakes at 11:30 at night.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>http://www.raelswhitewater.blogspot.com/</div><div>___</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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: </div><div>
<br /></div><div>1) The Opportunity to Learn at a College. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>2) The Opportunity to gain relatively happy experiences that will give them their own unique worldview that, in turn, contributes positively to their surroundings.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <i>never</i> know. As a parent I only plant the seed, but can't sow those particular rewards. That's what keeps things interesting.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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:</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Profanity</div><div>Birthdays</div><div>Halloween Costumes</div><div>The difference between and hour and a half and a half hour</div><div>Frankie</div><div>Horses</div><div>The Great Spaghetti Monster in the Sky</div><div>Eddie Izzard</div><div>Death</div><div>The Afterlife</div><div>Volcanos</div><div>The Beatles</div><div>Next Year's Talent Show</div><div>Story Structure</div><div>Body Image</div><div>Body Hair</div><div>Funny TV Commercials</div><div>Green Day</div><div>Guitar Chords</div><div>Why the sulfer pots smelled so bad and made chase want to throw up</div><div>Futurama</div><div>Droopy Dog</div><div>The Future</div><div>Snoopy</div><div>Charles Schultz</div><div>Mormons</div><div>South Park</div><div>USC</div><div>Jail</div><div>Oregon Trail</div><div>American Indians</div><div>Candy</div><div>Politics</div><div>White Water Rafting</div><div>Gerardia</div><div>Stephen Hawkings</div><div>Poop</div><div>Make-up</div><div>The Bullshit of the NCAA</div><div>Rocks</div><div>Elvis</div><div>My Childhood</div><div>Tiffany's Childhood</div><div>Bear attacks</div><div>Camping Outdoors</div><div>How nothing is free</div><div>The Bill of Rights.</div><div>M&Ms</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>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?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Don't worry...we will always keep trying...</div><div>
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<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-54877674820270568622011-08-27T22:05:00.000-07:002011-08-28T05:56:26.852-07:00Mahmahmahmah 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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">YAAAAAY</span>!!!<div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>So after a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">looong</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">o'call</span> 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...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">morsel</span>. Who knows.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Madriz</span>. 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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">LIEVABLE</span>. 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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Cafe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Madriz</span>. Come up here and make your mouth happy.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Ugh. Got less than five hours of sleep. Got a long haul tomorrow. Until...then...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-17263222046473845512011-08-25T20:57:00.000-07:002011-08-25T21:55:08.040-07:00FROM CAVES TO CRATERS...TO BOISE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaecR-rt1RdTCyNv6Kjd7bjnbaX1YxdkLtZQrNJUhuh3bzlIlrrzv_PT2xQUZ-AR6S6hn5jiDlMhAYk2gwENLi1oIl6FxpSoZzttx21ixHMkYLr5OKK1XHEuSzKwEMfPCDBlDniiWqZ8mg/s1600/_MG_9347.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
<br />Yesterday morning the Dodge Four said goodbye to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Treesort</span>, which was a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">travestree</span>- but a necessary one because we had to make our way to Crater Lake.<div>
<br /></div><div>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!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">guaranteed</span> 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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">DS</span>!</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Would you consider me a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">curmudgeon</span> 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. </span>Instead of small talk, next time just shut up. The world will be a better place. And elevators will be tolerable once again.<span class="Apple-style-span"> Small talk is a human <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">travestree</span>. </span></div><div>
<br /></div><div>This morning we woke up and jumped back on the highway, and spent all day making our way to Boise, Idaho. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">occasional</span> single-pump dusty, gas/coffee shop type places that look perpetually closed. So I decided to pull over to one of these.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>He gets to the window, takes a look a me and says, "I've seen you before!"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"You have?!" I ask.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"Yeah I have. I've seen you before!"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"Oh, I don't know..."</div><div>
<br /></div><div>And then the guy filled the car up with gas and left it at that. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Heh</span>. I don't look like Zach <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Galifianakis</span>.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaecR-rt1RdTCyNv6Kjd7bjnbaX1YxdkLtZQrNJUhuh3bzlIlrrzv_PT2xQUZ-AR6S6hn5jiDlMhAYk2gwENLi1oIl6FxpSoZzttx21ixHMkYLr5OKK1XHEuSzKwEMfPCDBlDniiWqZ8mg/s320/_MG_9347.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645015000639292738" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-17345679543209107772011-08-23T22:13:00.000-07:002011-08-25T20:57:35.916-07:00A raft down the River<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-977YMrf_Lh9lJJmxWTyvB8oDg7eqT54tFq6fA2k4OrCnP9dJfDW_cMB_OMzh_olWYiOInIpMZ3fkyCjbFDL5uFqrcJ8VyMyXSJy7hjV618x9oCM_yP7KMderh-jbbQaOAuOCIIlTpbz/s1600/100_0127.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>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.<div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">transmographied</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">REI</span>. 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...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>This morning I woke up after a stupendous night with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">treehouse</span> windows wide open and every entomology of bug <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">thwapping</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">treehouse</span> is already asleep.)</div><div>
<br /></div><div>So wake up we did, and we grabbed a hearty breakfast provided by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">treesort</span>. 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. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>1) The chef was making scones that actually had smoked bacon in them!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>2) The chef was a cross-dresser.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">treesort</span> 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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Anyhoo</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">breakfast</span> 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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">zipline</span> and something that is simply referred to a "Tarzan Swing." The girls <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ziplined</span> 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.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">guide's</span> name was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Rael</span>. 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, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Rael</span> casually took off his shirt and the angels wept. Jesus Christ. Later as we conversed, I learned that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Rael</span> 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, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Rael</span>, really?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Rael</span> 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, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Rael</span> spoke to them like they were just two of four equal people on the raft.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Many times, as we floated along, the calm water in the distance would start sounding anxious, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Rael</span> would coolly say, "Alright, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">juuust</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Niagra</span> Falls were ahead. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Rael</span> 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.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Rael</span> 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.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-977YMrf_Lh9lJJmxWTyvB8oDg7eqT54tFq6fA2k4OrCnP9dJfDW_cMB_OMzh_olWYiOInIpMZ3fkyCjbFDL5uFqrcJ8VyMyXSJy7hjV618x9oCM_yP7KMderh-jbbQaOAuOCIIlTpbz/s320/100_0127.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644307825107832658" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-9376152223581391422011-08-22T22:34:00.000-07:002011-08-22T23:19:24.435-07:00TREESORT!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Fcahabd_fmELYqjQINoOp5v5RRvus_rY12i3XUQC2dOSR9DFTau3pv2W-jHTkUOgKXhHWFQES2H3_0jU8AOdbsBqZWtrdko4lxG4hhohRgBGNFFAYD2Hh9kf3ywSuBNoVYWnMs9gilTG/s1600/IMG_3130.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC8fOSYPacNBZYs3RJxg_sjnpphTxd2P5T_cIzUBwDBAFwNs8yWO3gteb-T9XxgJSRTfFL529YEqT2au676CSuV3QK5NTduwdHn1oJRdZm2yxTPEwuXXli7BaX4qlwdGeGA3uWoGYRMWF/s1600/photo-1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC8fOSYPacNBZYs3RJxg_sjnpphTxd2P5T_cIzUBwDBAFwNs8yWO3gteb-T9XxgJSRTfFL529YEqT2au676CSuV3QK5NTduwdHn1oJRdZm2yxTPEwuXXli7BaX4qlwdGeGA3uWoGYRMWF/s320/photo-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643923940675010546" /></a>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...<div>
<br /></div><div>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. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Oh yeah. This is all in Oregon. We are in Oregon now...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>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?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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:</div><div>
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<br /></div><div><i>"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!"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>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...</div><div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-34820580991811864222011-08-21T20:15:00.001-07:002011-08-21T20:52:00.900-07:00TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPYj0wHvyjP5aZaA5o0_InL733LdPFurh3Efd9gvniD5maYsT627G1rhg0d9UBtcuG4qDaGMYXDUliBSz9jzCzqU8VIeMhZjjoVgFI_WU7Mu45oxWMA5Oa4zfOnpWCPa44itvsa-qfRpi/s1600/IMG_3119.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
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<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhSN475nxkEDQ6kcvyuw85kJ3uGFe1ph50B3zPbtaz8xDps93-NyNuvIuRmczNmNzkb09KUUpYTqPdVTYe2Yy3X9mf9fLPffzToP_VMFJ_am1CwJlJQpStfP-pz7S5M3-QJ-GiMMbT-T_/s1600/IMG_3111.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5k5LrsAW1eDpknR9uko_OMa9FKWRjYjicPsMkcFQcKHGDttb_aCbhKZPvz1YIQWMfxg6TFSKqJKAlquCBRHQXZ_jyOX4Y-TFNyWNHrl00Hk3OiJ6TAhuzpG5cgxrkShXp9XEC8Hb4kr57/s1600/IMG_3115.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5k5LrsAW1eDpknR9uko_OMa9FKWRjYjicPsMkcFQcKHGDttb_aCbhKZPvz1YIQWMfxg6TFSKqJKAlquCBRHQXZ_jyOX4Y-TFNyWNHrl00Hk3OiJ6TAhuzpG5cgxrkShXp9XEC8Hb4kr57/s320/IMG_3115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643513912453951250" /></a>"WHY NOT? WHY NOT BOARD THE DOG AND SCREAM UP THE CALIFORNIA AND SPEND SOME NIGHTS IN A <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">TREE HOUSE</span> AND THEN GO TO IDAHO AND THEN WYOMING AND THEN AND THEN AND <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">THENBAAHAHAHAHAHAAAABABABA</span>!"<div>
<br /></div><div>Ahem...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>(Drive <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Thru</span> Speaker)</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>"We need a minute, please..."</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>"One number two combo?"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>"No no, sorry...I said I need a moment to look at the menu..."</div><div>
<br /></div><div>(long pause)</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>"Will that be all?"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Nono</span>. I didn't order anything yet. I don't want the number two combo. I need to look at the menu."</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>"So no number two combo?"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>"No."</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>"Then what would you like?"</i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>"I would like you to SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD!!!!!!"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Of course I didn't say that. I know they'd charge extra.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"LOOK KIDS! COWS! FRUIT GROVES! LOOK! SHEEP! HORSES! LOOK A TRUCK <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">FULLA</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">DSes</span>. I mean, COME ON! A TRUCK FULL OF TOMATOES? So magical!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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...<i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">zingzingzing</span></i>...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 <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">weeeeee</span> </i>have to then our vacation memories wouldn't be ruined!"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Luckily though, the tooth pain sorta calmed down...although I know <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">something's</span> 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. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>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.</div><div>
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<br /></span></div><div>Friends called Schultz "Sparky." Apparently, according to the museum, he was a pyromaniac as a child.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Okay, he wasn't a pyromaniac. His father gave him that nickname after a popular funnies character of the time.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>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:</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>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, <i>nourishing</i>, in a way.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>After we left the museum we checked into a local Hilton, grabbed some smashing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Italian</span> food. And now I'm about to gargle some hydrogen peroxide. I will fight this infection. It will submit.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Tomorrow...Jelly Belly factory and Tree House hotel.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-72762208040510326262011-04-10T19:21:00.000-07:002011-04-12T21:51:20.426-07:00THE DODGES GO CRUISING...PART DEUX REDUX WITH STINGRAY PICTURES<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTQuY0goA6uXn9gFNnG59b0a-245P3rehJfd9PJmx16I2XM_OPZO_W2s0VIEWdgJ7KTcoRI8FChBZOzrelP5eDjkXLIKMszaFi-NLT4K1PoSGElEIX1Y2z8QhfXUFIoJ1EtJdXg7ujAMy/s320/IMG_8041.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594153084427310834" /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Greetings from the Dodge travel annals of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bloggery</span>. As it may or may not be known, daily blogging on a cruise ship is a rich man’s game. The price of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">internet</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bloggo</span> flashback back <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ack</span> ck k...</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">*******</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 10.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO BEAT YOU BUT I CAN MAKE YOU CRY!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">trach</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">goin</span>’ on. Oh yeah, where we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">goin</span>’? The Western Caribbean.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 <i>can </i>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.</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQu6ZpBS3N7pPqoT3TjikN35y9F66YGy_uFkh5O8akoPH8LODKvsRKHVN9bgv97RdUqumbI4e5W9Uknubm8zAvA5nXrIAgLv68SjSfC5j25GscmEF2wQBDO6JWt0q5MQk1pPa9v_tyoni/s320/IMG_8272.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594147755271063762" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65kq_bunxxVgJrTb8zNpjpXlTtU4XlZgDBxl_jyfF-BK0gadyknRsELPhNOl6l8-Jd0B2VGhGCjqedNtjn_-42cFkuC2xV0yu_MOIZFLGW7NzRSEIQg5WM7xaCW8w01mkKVrE-BG3g1D-/s1600/IMG_2497.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65kq_bunxxVgJrTb8zNpjpXlTtU4XlZgDBxl_jyfF-BK0gadyknRsELPhNOl6l8-Jd0B2VGhGCjqedNtjn_-42cFkuC2xV0yu_MOIZFLGW7NzRSEIQg5WM7xaCW8w01mkKVrE-BG3g1D-/s320/IMG_2497.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594925774314297250" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">RED TAPE? TRY RED BODIES.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The Dodge four is the personification of the song “Rock Lobster” as the four of us recover from a day at the Grand Cayman.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Up we were at the break of dawn, onto a water shuttle transporting us from ship to shore. It <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">didn</span>’t feel as obnoxious as I’m sure it looked. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Bam</span>, within two hours we were on a boat coursing through emerald waters to Sting Ray City. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">wifey</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">wrastled</span> a sting ray into his arms and we all pet and some of us kissed her. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCzAb_BKaZryNTMDglCEiMhKYU4PEPTl1gNy7mojt12I-N_XvZjfrIm2MQ6MrieXzq4Bj4Cp2U0TecFDtXDMwbznZ7t4Vm_SlPWh33zwYEmtv3S_9V7OkE4PhL4nKM4WnUfe4ZDOq1fPQ/s1600/P1010024.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCzAb_BKaZryNTMDglCEiMhKYU4PEPTl1gNy7mojt12I-N_XvZjfrIm2MQ6MrieXzq4Bj4Cp2U0TecFDtXDMwbznZ7t4Vm_SlPWh33zwYEmtv3S_9V7OkE4PhL4nKM4WnUfe4ZDOq1fPQ/s320/P1010024.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594532055293830930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TP_l9WH9kkCoK5wgcI1jTWX4XpHbFrHqxyWe-03w8AHqIGbyvDz8hp3rfqcjA484HZcBSwhl4RvXEbFxckw5FJkv60AY0rfGv8cyZ138ijPwXKOTW59fbOVOeomYEMv73ybBlyzth_dQ/s1600/P1010021.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_TP_l9WH9kkCoK5wgcI1jTWX4XpHbFrHqxyWe-03w8AHqIGbyvDz8hp3rfqcjA484HZcBSwhl4RvXEbFxckw5FJkv60AY0rfGv8cyZ138ijPwXKOTW59fbOVOeomYEMv73ybBlyzth_dQ/s320/P1010021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594489382169664290" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EOMnMNZVA2A6sliavROZi354I-aybIK2NDs2Mkr1uw756gRSMLi4XK7Pe75hI54oufRqYhiBqu8dLGQXdjR0kYqZ2lL9XTf1x0C6kxPhiFO7oHUR7S6Yt5g_vcxTm55kBa8IiodY8sVB/s1600/P1010019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EOMnMNZVA2A6sliavROZi354I-aybIK2NDs2Mkr1uw756gRSMLi4XK7Pe75hI54oufRqYhiBqu8dLGQXdjR0kYqZ2lL9XTf1x0C6kxPhiFO7oHUR7S6Yt5g_vcxTm55kBa8IiodY8sVB/s320/P1010019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594488789033231458" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OEtElD5XlSZ1UGI4XPHYc7NbHbi9X_57Igd905evY1lhMYK0jpmjJKAUF9I3ydbMYYQQckaV3R0dqJBW6LZbe_6gYEScnG0dsC6wCuYDyvuyao0U3-65pjUTD6F0mxlV9rUQap7Z6My0/s1600/P1010018.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OEtElD5XlSZ1UGI4XPHYc7NbHbi9X_57Igd905evY1lhMYK0jpmjJKAUF9I3ydbMYYQQckaV3R0dqJBW6LZbe_6gYEScnG0dsC6wCuYDyvuyao0U3-65pjUTD6F0mxlV9rUQap7Z6My0/s320/P1010018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594488279388389762" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> (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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Chasie</span>’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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">wasn</span>’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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">hmmm</span>, the magic is still in that cup!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">On our way back the “captain” of the boat thought he spotted a shark, so he jerked the boat in a circle and yelled “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">SHAAAARK</span>!!!!’ 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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">EVER PET A SHARK? WELL, CHASE JUST DID</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So yesterday we hit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Roatan</span>, 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 “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">BANANARAMA</span>.” 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">isn</span>’t truly seeping into where the public needs it most. But Chase did get to hold two monkeys. One bit her, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">didn</span>’t break skin. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">didn</span>’t know about it until after we were walking away from the photo opportunity. The sun was shining on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">iphone</span> and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">couldn</span>’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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">wasn</span>’t bleeding I asked her why she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">didn</span>’t tell me when it happened. I asked her, “Why <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">didn</span>’t you yell or flinch or do anything. As cool as ice Chase said, “I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">didn</span>’t want to freak the monkey out.” Here is photo evidence of the crime as it happened. Guilty Naughty South American Monkey.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaJmywnKJ74s_6klaDL7y7NwBmWDw-AxeSpOXjlCf2LlyHbrvgS5H9nqqOJ5lmHBmAYlHxYt3Cjhvs49sLrMvt7ueLdkWEATT2G9L3Ly4E9QeLmNGdsyXf4MVadWnd_UL0Jfuy-tpykv2/s1600/IMG_2539.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaJmywnKJ74s_6klaDL7y7NwBmWDw-AxeSpOXjlCf2LlyHbrvgS5H9nqqOJ5lmHBmAYlHxYt3Cjhvs49sLrMvt7ueLdkWEATT2G9L3Ly4E9QeLmNGdsyXf4MVadWnd_UL0Jfuy-tpykv2/s320/IMG_2539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594151676901019890" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Cohiba</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Habana</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Robusto</span> is better.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">DAMN.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So now I’m sitting in a clean but corporately sterile <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Westin</span> in Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Lauderdale</span>. I’m a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">preemie</span> 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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Belize it or not, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">ve</span> 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’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">ve</span> caught on to the fact that nearly every port has a portion of it prefabbed by the cruise companies and catered directly at <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Midwestern</span> alcoholics. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Margaritaville</span>, 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? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">WHHHAAT</span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Heh</span>.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Once we docked at Cozumel we took a ferry and an hour bus ride to the Mayan Ruins in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Tulum</span>. 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">quicks</span> 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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Frostees</span>. Great name, if you ask me, to have when you know all of your clients will be overheated and thirsty. Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Frostees</span> was owned by this Mexican guy who hand made a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">habanero</span> salsa he simply called “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">AYEYAYAYE</span>.” 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!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Traveling back from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Tulum</span>, I noticed the highway we were travelling on was simply one resort after another. For miles. Simply amazing.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UAqr_l1qwrp70HmbTfBTOhTenWeRjTUNGxM3rFpidgvNtfyIgg-c64E4yXCpk3JMjZRKmNe1D3KLJ9xvTMLaSIg7E8-qjsWM_F2VZlVfGv54ZvN8vN6QGu3XYS_fMoWpyznpNK_O7uSr/s1600/IMG_2525.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UAqr_l1qwrp70HmbTfBTOhTenWeRjTUNGxM3rFpidgvNtfyIgg-c64E4yXCpk3JMjZRKmNe1D3KLJ9xvTMLaSIg7E8-qjsWM_F2VZlVfGv54ZvN8vN6QGu3XYS_fMoWpyznpNK_O7uSr/s320/IMG_2525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594151200148391106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbrbsjl0-ViPo-yfAab5rBtRpfBsb6yclhX1_pETF1rpvPMwJ97C_aFgIhgDaeHwbXVwOdI8_h4fNgQMrCEHo7ixppJPMY6-d9L1CHA6YCtECxWGycZRtUQtjQddyROfdgd7fKPZpzidV/s1600/IMG_8127.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbrbsjl0-ViPo-yfAab5rBtRpfBsb6yclhX1_pETF1rpvPMwJ97C_aFgIhgDaeHwbXVwOdI8_h4fNgQMrCEHo7ixppJPMY6-d9L1CHA6YCtECxWGycZRtUQtjQddyROfdgd7fKPZpzidV/s320/IMG_8127.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594150882809612994" style="cursor: pointer; 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width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU93QChqedyagVLiyz3zkMpEkCqufpWNTzKYUGl4GeAbtQxdxZtHCgaHJYBL35xdXeFIKhVo4Lp2Oyk1h_x89GgJH26ASVsYYORtRtfeF1Caphzai3E4YdhUcXPfr8TULIRPq3TV1rehLQ/s1600/_MG_8147.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU93QChqedyagVLiyz3zkMpEkCqufpWNTzKYUGl4GeAbtQxdxZtHCgaHJYBL35xdXeFIKhVo4Lp2Oyk1h_x89GgJH26ASVsYYORtRtfeF1Caphzai3E4YdhUcXPfr8TULIRPq3TV1rehLQ/s320/_MG_8147.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594149838645077394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqTydWEgrM2ik32SNBiIMfYIReAoMr3MPD5FDpSeslbEU6xt4tR0sMIkwNkh1fRU5oreP3tWdzSdHDrOy1-KQeEbpW7F7J8QLrjGAOxyF_c_YocmYf9nRpzH5iHY9SzodVykcNJgAgoTz/s1600/IMG_8191.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqTydWEgrM2ik32SNBiIMfYIReAoMr3MPD5FDpSeslbEU6xt4tR0sMIkwNkh1fRU5oreP3tWdzSdHDrOy1-KQeEbpW7F7J8QLrjGAOxyF_c_YocmYf9nRpzH5iHY9SzodVykcNJgAgoTz/s320/IMG_8191.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594149418704188434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqGkTZUh-rlCdIOkGO8R1GyK5rx6J6zG6OP_t6WNiwgiBw8UPZWfXNYYX4kjC8_NHkaCVNFmRKyxiHK-sMq-ZrrudlR0Y01V51Ql3lSyUaWVmsvUYAvPGp1Y3ng-YIR87YLhyphenhyphenZ7yV6DrL/s1600/IMG_8282.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqGkTZUh-rlCdIOkGO8R1GyK5rx6J6zG6OP_t6WNiwgiBw8UPZWfXNYYX4kjC8_NHkaCVNFmRKyxiHK-sMq-ZrrudlR0Y01V51Ql3lSyUaWVmsvUYAvPGp1Y3ng-YIR87YLhyphenhyphenZ7yV6DrL/s320/IMG_8282.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594149026259237282" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7Xkmk2ekwPZgG-E-Ifo-n7UnI1ILb_sNEbxrwBSHMmPgK5s_NfWSoLXSXVVEfSUu5BN7ZJhAlUPYDpgaw3FNwSGrt-5TS71p8hAljlH9FQn5VZ7FA1Q1HpklJ9yDX8p5BLtib4Drcplq/s1600/IMG_2598.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7Xkmk2ekwPZgG-E-Ifo-n7UnI1ILb_sNEbxrwBSHMmPgK5s_NfWSoLXSXVVEfSUu5BN7ZJhAlUPYDpgaw3FNwSGrt-5TS71p8hAljlH9FQn5VZ7FA1Q1HpklJ9yDX8p5BLtib4Drcplq/s320/IMG_2598.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594148575291864546" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjherdWAiCaiKMeqcSnsjf_o1ExyMKuUtlYRih8rQ9TZI77MqWZUHPgitz8Q8OwlHMLXaczfDyNaHtF_iYvTqkAs8UfrYedTezflZ9bbjM3p0LW6GrpZ57dkT89MuBCm7WwmW7Nba-BhgVh/s1600/IMG_2538.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjherdWAiCaiKMeqcSnsjf_o1ExyMKuUtlYRih8rQ9TZI77MqWZUHPgitz8Q8OwlHMLXaczfDyNaHtF_iYvTqkAs8UfrYedTezflZ9bbjM3p0LW6GrpZ57dkT89MuBCm7WwmW7Nba-BhgVh/s320/IMG_2538.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594151462799010562" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQHRYjCJq2dxPzYqJb9jVOvCwzzfn1uK_LyQarZj20IZKn6Bzl4YprNzzXTxUCnElAiyJjJMmS-KjK8lgjVioUHimkPzyFU-Lvcuo2tUkjFzVpm-_CQ4ucEnYQ7Jmpo7-Nbi42E_3eQRB/s1600/IMG_8115.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQHRYjCJq2dxPzYqJb9jVOvCwzzfn1uK_LyQarZj20IZKn6Bzl4YprNzzXTxUCnElAiyJjJMmS-KjK8lgjVioUHimkPzyFU-Lvcuo2tUkjFzVpm-_CQ4ucEnYQ7Jmpo7-Nbi42E_3eQRB/s320/IMG_8115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594153640233028898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-68900415218283211002010-08-23T10:43:00.001-07:002010-08-24T22:11:54.868-07:00CRUISIN'<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgBuOE7u0208q9Y_1nTiiujMZ4VwJnV4STlJoH9lqotXaqVdrx69rZjvD3-4PNC4bopBzZeb8Zrk1UG8bgkro6maNOn5VLIZyWs4PwQoH9hB4LZeSv7tRHVwXi2CGnW-0_hroeBbTV7ja/s1600/IMG_7610.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgBuOE7u0208q9Y_1nTiiujMZ4VwJnV4STlJoH9lqotXaqVdrx69rZjvD3-4PNC4bopBzZeb8Zrk1UG8bgkro6maNOn5VLIZyWs4PwQoH9hB4LZeSv7tRHVwXi2CGnW-0_hroeBbTV7ja/s320/IMG_7610.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509209981525323490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThwdqUoyFExmecgspQYvmX_A5Gu2i2QTJ35_Usl_UdOK_dp7ydLh_CRdE8DbSHoFKObH_rVED7m_Z0zL5DoUCxyTDB8tTtn1YAiriwGZWdLVef-EUOcR8hM-xCoeeg2wSFRBWpWSha-xe/s1600/_MG_7813.JPG"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThwdqUoyFExmecgspQYvmX_A5Gu2i2QTJ35_Usl_UdOK_dp7ydLh_CRdE8DbSHoFKObH_rVED7m_Z0zL5DoUCxyTDB8tTtn1YAiriwGZWdLVef-EUOcR8hM-xCoeeg2wSFRBWpWSha-xe/s1600/_MG_7813.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; ">So as we cruise away from Juneau, the capital city of Alaska, known to have one of the ugliest capital buildings of all the fifty states, I keep thinking back to a T-shirt I saw this old fart wear on the day we departed Seattle. It said, “Shut Up and Fish.” I have to admit, I thought it was a very stupid fucking T-shirt. I mean, really. What a smartass of a T-shirt. But I keep thinking maybe there is a deeper meaning than, “Hey, shut the fuck up and put your hook in the water.” Maybe it’s kind of like a “Carpe Diem” type thing. Sht up and catch a Carpe Diem. (High Hat.)</span></a><div><br /></div><div>So are we seizing the moment with this cruise? Are we making the most of our precious vacation time and money? Those were my fears when we booked this thing. I was afraid I would look back upon it and just think it was a monumental waste of time and money. I feared it would do nothing but tease me for more access to the sights it was taking me to.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first two nights were spent sailing hard and fast up to Alaska. So we had no choice but to “boat” it up. The kids, at first reluctant to enlist in the kiddie programmed stuff- CLUB CARNIVAL- were instant converts. In fact, I think they’ve spent more time at club carnival that with us! If not more, than damn close. Tiffany and I just relaxed. I would have blogged earlier but internet time is about as expensive as gold on this cruise. Not to mention, I am just constantly sleepy. I don’t know why it never occurred to me before that this ship is a floating resort of sorts. Some of the amenities are rather nice. For example, our amazing view out of our balcony. It is literally on the water. And the sunsets and ocean air have been awesome and restorative. Other amenities have been just jammed packed with Wisconsin Cheese, directly aimed at, I believe, old people who have pretty much given up trying for anything more in life. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Elegant Evening” happened without us. But we watched the parade of people in their glittery, sequinsy best lining up for the main dining hall to dine with the captain. Tiffany and I hit the buffet. Tiffany thinks the food has always been good, by the way. In my mind the food has been gradually improving as we’ve been going along. Maybe I’m just being brainwashed. But now I like the food. Nom.</div><div><br /></div><div>After elegant evening everyone is encourage to take these studio-type photos, posing in front of backdrops of the cheesiest nature...waterfalls, snowy peaks, library books. Couples were encouraged to hold each other in poses I haven’t seen since the Sears portrait department circa 1978. You could pose with stuffed baby seals or bear cubs. They even offered old timey photos where you could dress up as gangsters with tommy guns. I tried to persuade Tiffany to pose with me blindfolded on my knees begging for my life while she angrily held a tommy gun to my head, but she didn’t want to. Now THAT would have been a photo keepsake.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZaUaoJmXCFfWjoXVk55XaTmHpSpQroE38L0JWYeUAvy3Dypc6KeD62okOOMkL82Wh9kmayDf60JcG5pTD_a0_Qlaok_8ZQRlGarwsVXtNiyO2qJwCrFuLbMgHYpudg85Tznw_lkeacJQ/s320/_MG_7829.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509210510267574338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div><br /></div><div>Finally we reached Tracy Arm, a Fjord that ended with a glacier. All along we glided past small icebergs. Now, THAT is definitely something everyone should see. ESPECIALLY FROM YOUR OWN BALCONY! I never thought I could ever claim to have watched icebergs in only my underwear. And now I can! I admit, doing things in my underwear seems to be very important to me. But I digress. The ice, due to eons of intense pressure, takes on this pure, crystalline blue color. It was awesome. Even my underwear thought so. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next day we hit our first port, SKAGWAY. From Skagway, I climbed into a jeep and via CB, we caravaned our way out of Alaska, into the Yukon Territory of Canada...and went OFF ROADING. (When Charlie first learned that I was going to be driving, she exclaimed with concern, “Wait, YOU’RE GOING TO BE DRIVING OFF ROAD?!” Well, we survived, and Charlie and Chase had quite a good time munching on Reindeer Jerky (beef jerky made from Reindeer- that’s right, fuck you, Rudolph!) and salmon pate at our half way point on the mountain.</div><div><br /></div><div>The downtown area of Skagway reminded me of Tijuana. They didn’t have donkey shows, but it was an eight block stretch of cheap tourist spots selling everything that wasn’t nailed down. One thing I realized is that every cruise port has about three billion jewelry stores specifically targeted towards what I imagine to be cruise rubes who have been fluffed and primed all cruise long into thinking that jewelry made from Tanzanite, Blogmonite, Orangomite, Whateverite is actually the smart investment of the future. Our cruise has a “shopping specialist” with her own TV channel, and she prattles on and on and on about what looks to be the cheapest jewelry I’ve ever seen. In addition, the cruise holds mini seminars about buying jewelry and “the secrets to collecting art.” By the way, the ship has it’s own art gallery on board and most works of art on display throughout the ship are indeed for sale. I learned from our off road guide that every cruise line has it’s OWN jewelry store at every port as well. The cruise fattens up the cows and gets them ready for slaughter. This is an aspect of cruise life I didn’t know existed.</div><div><br /></div><div>That being said, there are many coupons for free stuff that we have enjoyed. So maybe if the cruise was just a few days longer I’d find myself wild eyed and elbowing someone’s walker out of the way to pick up the hottest Tanzanite whale tail charm bracelet in Juneau!</div><div><br /></div><div>Which brings me to Juneau. I like Juneau. They have the “downtown” area directed at tourists... but I found the best crab shack in all of Alaska and the lower 48- Tracy’s King Crab Shack. I had Dungeness (King Crab is for those with few tastebuds, in my opinion.) OH YUM I LOVE TRACY’S KING CRAB SHACK! Oh wait... I’m jumping the gun. We went river rafting.</div><div><br /></div><div>CLASS 3, YO! With the kids. We SHOT the Mendenhall. Before the river though, we were able to raft right up to an iceberg that had broken off from the immense glacier about a mile away and boy was it amazing. Who would want cheap jewelry when they have set their eyes on such naturally created beauty? Charlie reminded me of a turtle keeping its head in its shell the whole time her face was buried in her lifejacket, with only her button nose and glasses sticking out.</div><div><br /></div><div>After Juneau, as soon as we were back on the boat the kids were off for more fun at Camp Carnival, and Tiffany and I had a very bizarre dinner. As we were mid bite in the dining room, all of a sudden a hip hop song came on and all the waiters and staff started dancing- some with each other and some pulling diners out of their chairs to dance. But the diners...looked as if they were waiting for it! Apparently this has happened every night, and we just happened to miss it. So Tiffany and I just sat their, forks frozen in the air, and watched the wait staff bumping and grinding with the diners to a song normally reserved for strip clubs.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning we invaded Ketchikan- I’m probably off on the spelling. We hit the Saxman Indian village, watched an Indian dance and Chase happily got her fill of totem poles. We were supposed to watch a loggers show, but at the last minute we unanimously decided to sell off our tix and spend the rest of our time shopping. And that’s where I think the name came from, you are there for approximately six hours and everyone is dashing around catching as much loot as they can before they have to get back on the boat.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right now as I type this I’m outside on my balcony with the green sea rushing past me. I’m in heaven. Tonight we get to Victoria, but I’m not going to blog about Victoria. I actually feel sad that our vacation is coming to an end. Both Tiffany and I have been struggling for the past day to keep our minds away from Los Angeles, and it’s been hard. I want this ocean view forever. I want more fun time with my girls. I don’t want our vacation to be over. So, I guess it all has been worth it, because I miss it already. I guess we have made the most of our time. We did shut up and caught as many carpe diems as we could. And I can’t wait to do it again.</div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-81030269013187619552010-08-18T11:18:00.000-07:002010-08-18T15:32:07.904-07:00FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN...So we are churning our way to Alaska via the Carnival Spirit. I had super low expectations about this whole thing. I've never been on a cruise before and just expected it to be a mass of old people stuffed in every other corner of the ship stuffing their maws with food. And guess what? It is. However, I am having a blast. There is an energy on the boat that I like. I like our balcony view of the open ocean. I like the rocking back and forth at night while sleeping. I like seeing my girls in a bunk bed. So far the food and booze hasn't blown me away...which most people I spoke to before just glowed about the food...not sure what that was about. The booze is present and I am making sure to enjoy it, but it comes at a premium...as it always does.<div><br /></div><div>I didn't expect so much salemanship on board during the cruise. No, not sailsmanship, but salesmanship. Everwhere I turn there is someone selling wine, ("Wine for the price of Water!) cigarrettes at duty free prices, jewelry, even photos of Alaska for $1.99. The boat is a floating swapmeet.</div><div><br /></div><div>The girls are just beginning to rev up with the activities. Charlie is super gung ho. Chase is reserving her opinion until later. Although yesterday they had a blast going down the water slide about three billion times.</div><div><br /></div><div>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76rmXyl-VP8</div><div><br /></div><div>BTW, Chase was just listening to WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW and thought that the "Sha na na na" part was signing, "Shu-hu-hut-Up Shu-hu-hut-Up!" Awesome.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-3072568785049045122010-08-16T23:10:00.000-07:002010-08-17T00:01:42.422-07:00Space Needle Mexican Jumping Beans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1Hp80xrx-Be0FJ9Ac8RAPc7tYbi0wBppL9oRBxu0fx1AW55ylNDmWRGwmYvw9eHnWnpuJzS0vl0WMuQZuJztyJtYZKXH8PYHAD6DbnShJOOuJcM49XM6XToneaPKNFX2u-x9nDovLjz3/s1600/_MG_7484.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1Hp80xrx-Be0FJ9Ac8RAPc7tYbi0wBppL9oRBxu0fx1AW55ylNDmWRGwmYvw9eHnWnpuJzS0vl0WMuQZuJztyJtYZKXH8PYHAD6DbnShJOOuJcM49XM6XToneaPKNFX2u-x9nDovLjz3/s320/_MG_7484.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506257928894791378" /></a>So as we were flying from Los Angeles to Seattle Chase looks out the window of the plane and asks, <div><br /></div><div>"So that bump in the wing...that's where they keep the bombs and the machine guns?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Tiffany and I looked at her... "What?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"That's where the airplane keeps the bombs and the machine guns, right?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently, Chase thought that every plane that flew in the air was armed to the teeth and ready for bomb dropping and war. After we explained to her that no... most planes are not armed and that those bumps were merely part of the plane that helped it fly... she seemed disappointed. BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE THERE WAS SO MUCH MORE FUN TO LOOK FORWARD TO!</div><div><br /></div><div>Seattle is just phase one of "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Funathon</span> 3000, 2010." Phase Two is a cruise to Alaska. But that's for later...</div><div><br /></div><div>We landed in Seattle in the early afternoon, traveling with our Aunt Debby, who is the world's number 1 fan of the city of Seattle. After we situated ourselves in the hotel, we immediately tackled the Space Needle for a little nighttime city viewing. Damn, Seattle is beautiful.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next day, we went right back! (We had a nifty coupon) to see what Seattle looks like so high up...during the <i>day. </i> Is it me or is Seattle brighter during the day than at night? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Anyhoodle</span>, we then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">shadooped</span> over to the very nearby Music Experience and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Scifi</span> museum. Now I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who got anything out of these two places. And both of them tapped into deep wells that hold most things that I love. On exhibit at the music experience- oh nothing, just JIMMY HENDRIX'S GUITARS AND NOTES AND JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE JIMMY HENDRIX. After I finished hyper-ventilating and slapping myself, I tried to explain Hendrix's importance in music history to the girls. After all this passionate explaining I asked Charlie, "Do you think you get who he is?" Charlie responded with, "Not really." Oh well, one day... one day. Rest assured...one day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right in the same sweeping super structure that holds the music <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">experience</span> (that is very reminiscent of the Disney Hall in Los Angeles) we hit the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Scifi</span> Museum and Hall of Fame. Let me tell you..."Nerd Nerd Nerd...Nerd is the Word." Everything you'd ever want to see... original prints of MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE... Planet of the Apes props. Robots. Vintage ray gun toys. Star Wars Toys. The kids were more into this, but nowhere near as much as me. There were a few times I turned to Tiffany to exclaim, "OH MY GOD THIS IS THE ORIGINAL (fill in the nerdy blank) and most of the time I'd just see her shaking her head at me. Oh well, again.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHByCRG7G9CzxurB-4mFiYTyj3whzSAYy2bBlpzvUQdipmwXlyhd1cv4fKjZIZY9coqsiJ9qjXFcO_Ux03jAmG7B7lDXmeXxynFLUr0pVWWBV5OEizB3JWNKh7hl2CeADtmxWBPBgtIZR/s1600/IMG_2005.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHByCRG7G9CzxurB-4mFiYTyj3whzSAYy2bBlpzvUQdipmwXlyhd1cv4fKjZIZY9coqsiJ9qjXFcO_Ux03jAmG7B7lDXmeXxynFLUr0pVWWBV5OEizB3JWNKh7hl2CeADtmxWBPBgtIZR/s320/IMG_2005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506265542081493522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After I was finished <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">nerding</span> out we went to the Kids Science Center and GUESS WHAT? They had the wax souvenir mold machines that the Los Angeles Zoo used to have. This made me extremely happy- as I had recently taken the girls to the zoo with grandiose stories of waxy goodness...only to find out the the zoo had become the enemy of fun and gotten rid of all of them. But the Kids Science Center had them.</div><div><br /></div><div>While at the Science Center we also caught a LASER show! That's right. But that's not all... a laser show to BEATLES MUSIC. So Hendrix Guitars...then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Scifi</span> Museum...then wax machines...then a laser show to the Beatles! You'd think it was almost my birthday and not Charlie's.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chase did fall asleep while lying on the floor of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">laser dome</span>. I did for a minute, too. Charlie was kind enough to wake me up with a "DAD, YOU'RE SNORING!" I honestly think it was just too much fun for my brain to handle all in one day. But I remained awake for the rest of it. It was awesome to be lying on the floor, watching lasers zip and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">zag</span> and waggle with my two girls, even if one of them was asleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today we hit the Seattle Aquarium, did a harbor tour, tackled Elliot's Oysters (YES.) and then meandered to Pioneer Square that had the coolest toy store in the world called MAGIC MOUSE TOYS. So much fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>And if that wasn't enough Aunt Debby brought us to a shop called "Ye Old Curiosity Shop" that had real shrunken heads and two mummified bodies- one of which was found in the Arizona desert from the late 1800s...found naked with a bullet hole in his stomach. But the place also sold fudge.</div><div><br /></div><div>Aunt Debby was kind enough to buy some Mexican Jumping Beans for the girls, which are still delighting them with every little spasm and jerk they make. Now, however, Charlie has discovered that they are indeed larvae inside of a seed shell...and she's growing concerned for their well being. It's funny that as a parent you spend so much time teaching your kids to be sensitive and gentle with the creatures of the world...but there's always some point, with some creature, that you end up saying, "Listen, it's just a damned bug. Enjoy it, then throw it away when it stops wiggling." Okay....not that harsh...but nearly. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Heh</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">heh</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being in Seattle with Aunt Debby has been very special. I know the girls have cherished every moment of it, and Tiffany and I have, too. We don't get to vacation that much with family- especially on my side...so this has been a very special memory for all of us.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJiRrqnjHuvB5mXr2PkiUkzqigKSi41h86OZ2iShhH7NEQs1OgsXC3mvk58lcVnLbhBybBExjISmaA6jmDRAGZDhCYHs4PAH9VRruX2BYkP2s2vUIZI7z0kYZifOSknTgD3_dqm57QoBk8/s1600/IMG_2009.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJiRrqnjHuvB5mXr2PkiUkzqigKSi41h86OZ2iShhH7NEQs1OgsXC3mvk58lcVnLbhBybBExjISmaA6jmDRAGZDhCYHs4PAH9VRruX2BYkP2s2vUIZI7z0kYZifOSknTgD3_dqm57QoBk8/s320/IMG_2009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506269187880261890" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>You know what else has been memorable? All the food. Every meal we've had but the lunch at Elliott's has been us just stumbling into restaurants serendipitously, and eat one has been better than the next. This leaves me to think that Seattle just doesn't have many bad restaurants. Either that or we just have very lucky gastrointestinal organs!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, tomorrow we leave on Carnival Cruises for Alaska, and say goodbye to Aunt Debby, who will be hanging out in Seattle for a few more days. It was fun. It was too brief. Seattle, we shall return. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here is a video on youtube of our seattle visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W64w3UCZcWs</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQ9fPOS120lXfIH2cP4HjmbQE8RdttsYEFPLeZhrnPM_knQVO5xRlxAjbqoBXQKQYr2x-wkpkBPNn-ZiUGarVkBzP2bfpkQjUP19sd4OEnw0jagCEneggr1MWgETSR707mG5G1ho1TrQo/s1600/IMG_2023.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQ9fPOS120lXfIH2cP4HjmbQE8RdttsYEFPLeZhrnPM_knQVO5xRlxAjbqoBXQKQYr2x-wkpkBPNn-ZiUGarVkBzP2bfpkQjUP19sd4OEnw0jagCEneggr1MWgETSR707mG5G1ho1TrQo/s320/IMG_2023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506269365065565666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-31441028256284729782010-04-18T23:42:00.001-07:002010-04-19T00:27:59.228-07:00Second Chances.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLlBMkWEYfJ2D97uD4xdF3zHanIkGj-6mfjkn-xL-E9plVX6WLRqi8m99DwmdOoKcjOpTyhIaaH_29C_cq3dsnXTguUxfXPK9pmY7_CHokKySRq-xhPk6pK2H1LOaFiED6CDqei4Vu_vx/s1600/Frankie.jpg"></a><br />Well. What can I say. I guess I'll just lay it out as it happened.<div><br /></div><div>It's been over a year now since we lost Cocoa. Her passing has been a bigger mountain to climb than I ever imagined. Her passing really decimated our emotions. Tiffany vowed to never get a dog again. I always felt that one day a dog would come into our lives. I also felt that both the girls need a dog in their childhood memories. But dogs are commitment. Dogs are work. It's not called a Dog Eat Dog Day Afternoon for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nothin</span>'.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then last night happened. Tiffany asked me if I had seen her post about a dog at the Pasadena Humane Society that desperately needed to be adopted. That the deadline to terminate this animal was last week.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hadn't seen that post but immediately looked it up. I was angry at myself for missing her post. She, I'm sure, was angry at herself for mentioning it to me because she knew I'd pursue it. And the kicker was, this dog was adorable. But had simply been at the pound <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">wayee</span> too long. Nobody wanted him. </div><div><br /></div><div>I frantically jotted down the dog's ID number. But by this time it was 1130 at night. The pound was closed. There was no way to know if this dog was alive or dead. So I went to bed with the resolve that I was just going to let the chips land where they may. I'd call in the morning, and if by some incredible chance the pound had not, as promised, put this dog down... well then, we'd have to just go take a look.</div><div><br /></div><div>But we were supposed to go to Disneyland today with Joyce and family. I told myself, "If it is meant to be then Joyce will cancel Disneyland." Joyce called and cancelled Disneyland.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I called the pound. The dog was still alive. But the woman on the phone impressed upon me they were just desperate to find a home for the dog. The dog needed a home, NOW.</div><div><br /></div><div>I walked over to Tiffany. She tried to read my eyes. "He's dead?" "No." So we told the kids what was going on. I thought their eyes were about to just pop out of their heads with excitement. For months both had been campaigning for a dog or cat or something other than animals that have to live in a cage or tank.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the pound we filled out the paperwork and while waiting for the counselor who would assess whether we'd be good candidates for the dog we walked around a little. Pounds are tough places to be. You feel for every animal. What makes it even worse is when the animals are trying to show you how friendly they are... how wonderful they would be to take home.</div><div><br /></div><div>While we were waiting we found the pen where the dog in question was. The girls hadn't seen a picture of the dog yet but Chase instantly picked up that this was the beast in question. She looked at me and said, "This one?" I nodded. She nodded back and smiled. We said hello and then walked around some more. Then returned back to the dog. Charlie commented, "Boy, you guys really like this dog, don't you?" Chase explained that this was the dog. And it was instant love.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone, I'd like to introduce our new friend, family member, and sources of I'm sure peaks of both joy and challenge:</div><div><br /></div><div>Frankie C. Dodge. "Frankie" is short for Frankenstein. "C" is in tribute to the original Pooch herself, Cocoa. "Dodge" is, as most of you could guess if you have known us for awhile, our last name.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLlBMkWEYfJ2D97uD4xdF3zHanIkGj-6mfjkn-xL-E9plVX6WLRqi8m99DwmdOoKcjOpTyhIaaH_29C_cq3dsnXTguUxfXPK9pmY7_CHokKySRq-xhPk6pK2H1LOaFiED6CDqei4Vu_vx/s320/Frankie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461739797522502882" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div>While processing Frankie's release, we learned that he's had a tough life up until this point. In January he was brought in with severe wounds from a vicious attack by another dog that needed surgery. After his owners took him home, they returned a week later to give him up. Apparently, the family was losing their home and couldn't keep him. He's been in the pound since January and was scheduled to be put down. But even through all that, Frankie is a sweet, tail-wagging goofball. He needs training, but his enthusiasm will receive it with great heart. As I write this now I still can't get over that nobody has adopted him until us.</div><div><br /></div><div>I must confess at this point, Ladies and Gentlemen, that I had rules that needed to be met before I would ever get another dog. They were rules that I feel were established when I got Cocoa.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Circumstance presents the animal to us. We don't seek the animal. (Just like how we meet most of anyone we love.)</div><div><br /></div><div>2. The animal is not a purebred.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. The animal's life most likely depends on whether or not we adopt it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, Frankie qualified to these three requirements 180%. The one uncanny similarity, if you ask me, with Cocoa is that Frankie was listed as a Pit Mix. I think this might have had something to do with why he never got adopted. People who don't want a Pit Bull don't even want a mix, and people who do want a Pit Bull want one that's pure bred. Cocoa was a Chow Mix and whenever anyone realized that it was instant bias and sometimes unfounded fear. The way I see it, every day from this point on that Frankie "is" should be considered pure gravy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Frankie was a "volunteer favorite" as it was presented to us at the pound. And that was proven as every worker and volunteer in the joint came in and lit up with relief and joy when they realized that we were taking Frankie home. One volunteer even started to tear up.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I thought that just might be the case with every animal... but I saw another one being processed with just a "greeeat...thanks." But with Frankie it was a practically a grand send-off. I just got the sense that everyone there loved Frankie and were completely stressed knowing that his time was about to run out.</div><div><br /></div><div>In addition, we didn't have to pay for anything with Frankie. The usual 120 dollar fee for chipping and other costs were covered. The counselor applied a donation made by another person to Frankie's release.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now we start a new journey together. One that will be admittedly rife with work for us all. But one that is no less exciting because of it. Poor Frankie. He's going to be on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">youtube</span> frequently.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-5297259495047949922010-04-10T22:03:00.000-07:002010-04-10T23:03:52.337-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9q0n5QDqLOTa6J-wiY4Sqahz3EvYnYFA_bAN6YwTOcu3WsPfIElKkp6xdiKBHVCPB_Rs0fpAIDlLeBTdVci0-wRUPaCq41oNuZEPfMpux8cZKmdpSMIidF9tdv4yMlnYRV4z_YOCoYVUK/s1600/_MG_7421.JPG"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27u7dmm4BneNoV_ETUS5BhMoVfa8qXGmt-K27p8XnYOaSzHt2CdieGL0GZ6kx5hPs9D3wq6uHzeLEfj47AZ0vlq0kUAixjzkj7AYcT4NUDtfEXFqaJKh-FxfUn4utsmXCC7-S0k5bAS2d/s1600/_MG_7400.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdD6WKsXIYmIIIsvqXkxuOC3ZBo8BVXjmY4CVviNwuklE-kFSj2PB7ZKrW9r3HBwFGMmvTsa_P3Vv6oUlJzhB9Z_WxXMo29dWYCFnFfbDeGuZVFbAha3vOfuyMePKhPnjL_cEliGNBhAGT/s1600/_MG_7177.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdD6WKsXIYmIIIsvqXkxuOC3ZBo8BVXjmY4CVviNwuklE-kFSj2PB7ZKrW9r3HBwFGMmvTsa_P3Vv6oUlJzhB9Z_WxXMo29dWYCFnFfbDeGuZVFbAha3vOfuyMePKhPnjL_cEliGNBhAGT/s320/_MG_7177.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458743879844793730" /></a><br /><div>Wednesday.</div><div><br /></div><div>My Shoes are too big. I should have known better. But it was just pure stubbornness that led me to this stupid stupid situation. The 11s were too small and I knew the 12s would be wide enough. When I tried them on they slipped a lot on the heel. But I kept them anyway, because I wanted cool hiking shoes. Now, it just feels like my shoes are falling off all the time and I might just throw myself off of Half Dome, screaming, “FUCK THOSE SHOES AND FUCK ME TOO!” All the way down.</div><div><br /></div><div>But alas, we just got here. Yosemite. Only Tiffany has been before (and that was an RV trip in the dark) so we thought it would be a fantastic little few-day, in-state trip. It looks like we are hitting the season’s G-Spot for Yosemite as well. Fresh snow still on the ground, but Springtime temperatures are what everyone has promised us. Tiffany and I are plotting our plan of attack tonight.</div><div><br /></div><div>We are staying in the Wawona Hotel. It reminds me of the place where Baby learned to Dirty Dance with Johnny- but it’s even older. No internet (I will be uploading this on Saturday). No cell phone reception. The electrical outlets are only two prong so I can’t charge up anything. My phone is running out of juice and I’m typing this as fast as I can because I need enough computer juice to blog for two more nights- because if I don’t blog the day of, I ain’t bloggin! And I’m already down to 82%! Come on, MACBOOK PRO! YOU PROMISED LONG BATTERY LIFE...SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh yeah, and no television. But the girls don’t mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning I woke up to Chase standing before me in my bedroom wrapped in a scarf and knit cap and gloves. She was ready for adventure. Charlie stayed up late last night packing her bag as well (three journals: 1 for “Yosemite” themed entries, 1 for “Personal” entries, and 1 for “taking notes.”)</div><div><br /></div><div>As we drove past Raymond, Coarsegold, and Oakhurst, my heart ached while my thoughts wandered on about my nephew Richie, and I came away from those thirty miles more resolute than ever that life is just too fucking short to worry about... well... much. So too-big-shoes, fuck you, I’m going to ride you like a three cent burro. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our journey ended wonderfully as we discovered Yosemite quite blanketed in crystalline snow. Charlie, up until today, still bitterly reminded me of how she didn’t get to go to the snow ONCE all last year... so I think today made up for it. The snow was soft as shaved ice and over a foot deep. The girls squealed and ran around and threw snowballs and got nice and wet and chilled and happy as can be. Today, we lived. But now I’m at 79%! Gotta go!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtGg9kT1djz-dkHzlUXG-DGnTrl1HRx3VaJbQ-aOfJFb9d8HjKviPMqvxzmETM9q3yfvoU3EU2ZsC6WMGBNisA8z7WONW5P4FYekfVmm-MeMpIoUNwIHgyoEDec9D7EdQqjgjV57fsG1D/s1600/_MG_7184.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtGg9kT1djz-dkHzlUXG-DGnTrl1HRx3VaJbQ-aOfJFb9d8HjKviPMqvxzmETM9q3yfvoU3EU2ZsC6WMGBNisA8z7WONW5P4FYekfVmm-MeMpIoUNwIHgyoEDec9D7EdQqjgjV57fsG1D/s320/_MG_7184.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458744437514234642" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsydCiaFBBZUwHkblwl4JwJ7Lwynays8E6YzJODg_Fbq4x3UOm_GuYPYYn2McusOu1hFCWz3D7cP4QpCQDjmQu9o0jCde_fQwBW1dZbswJepoMWKGYolXWwnUspTGfxDMUDxIgOxj05ImY/s1600/_MG_7197.JPG"> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsydCiaFBBZUwHkblwl4JwJ7Lwynays8E6YzJODg_Fbq4x3UOm_GuYPYYn2McusOu1hFCWz3D7cP4QpCQDjmQu9o0jCde_fQwBW1dZbswJepoMWKGYolXWwnUspTGfxDMUDxIgOxj05ImY/s320/_MG_7197.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458744989004948946" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoMED3dMAJB4ObaN9zm6VbLwllJpoPb03Lie4YTBsYv-F7ozoUQrec3IY5mz8vxuUGCrp3RaR-GJHt7bOCKIsMqv415xifHowVzetBLqmtI8D7JTb0QuMi7JbPq9H00dX2GnXh_FC_vco/s1600/_MG_7196.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoMED3dMAJB4ObaN9zm6VbLwllJpoPb03Lie4YTBsYv-F7ozoUQrec3IY5mz8vxuUGCrp3RaR-GJHt7bOCKIsMqv415xifHowVzetBLqmtI8D7JTb0QuMi7JbPq9H00dX2GnXh_FC_vco/s320/_MG_7196.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458744708824323138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>THURSDAY</div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t know how my computer went from 79% to 74% without me doing anything...WAIT!, now 73%! Okay, today we tackled the waterfalls of Yosemite. After a hearty breakfast at the Wawona, we packed into the car on our way to Bridalveil Falls. But first, we drove through Tunnel View and WHOA... </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrjbA9WK5GE7RdhQI0HQ9NgG7iPrJ-QKylt2Y2Fu7v42M_GcC8y8eFieM6xeJPrCNJcJSDkfgSQF8FdUBnmA5i-Vpe-7MlNZGY6lyRuzy51VhMhaWEQB8UHeJFFIRqb5XDTxI1W4gI0Qr/s1600/_MG_7207.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrjbA9WK5GE7RdhQI0HQ9NgG7iPrJ-QKylt2Y2Fu7v42M_GcC8y8eFieM6xeJPrCNJcJSDkfgSQF8FdUBnmA5i-Vpe-7MlNZGY6lyRuzy51VhMhaWEQB8UHeJFFIRqb5XDTxI1W4gI0Qr/s320/_MG_7207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458745672481691730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div>...once you exit out of the tunnel through the mountain, the beauty of Yosemite Valley is just UNLEASHED on you all at once. I don’t think I’ve ever had my breath literally taken away by nature before, but this did it. Half Dome in the distance...Bridalveil thundering down nearby. We took oodles of pictures and as we were walking back to the car I kept finding myself looking back over my shoulder for just one more eyeful.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu64mK763R4U4TEj8WJPulB15isbpGAbvLByPKWpQF1Se38ztV4zyvgGljF1p-DcKPJ7NCw067CcR1sR7I7cZg0wDwdXBTWWs4mAfvjZ8nlKd4K60wmj5VUmU5yXGebZdOV0lknHORCJ7k/s1600/_MG_7225.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu64mK763R4U4TEj8WJPulB15isbpGAbvLByPKWpQF1Se38ztV4zyvgGljF1p-DcKPJ7NCw067CcR1sR7I7cZg0wDwdXBTWWs4mAfvjZ8nlKd4K60wmj5VUmU5yXGebZdOV0lknHORCJ7k/s320/_MG_7225.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458746253387152466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>The hike to Bridalveil was nothin! It took fifteen minutes and then we were right in the heart of the refreshing morning mist produced by the waterfall. That was also a new experience for all of us. But as we were walking back down, Charlie kept complaining that the hike was far too easy.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We next scampered to the base of Yosemite Falls. Another easy hike. Charlie kept pushing to take the difficult hike to the top- she wanted a challenge. But we had another waterfall to see. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQJQ9gFMlk62-WTR2KtESmkDTbkc59Yto9_vXZaXBgqewzFJNFr-T41F5qVGNrdc_nj3xY6FOLsgOHhmPg88ynuf9jR1gsNo4vCX3zuvmGCYXD2SEZ-zVagE5lEMkTViK398due7K2wyS/s1600/_MG_7229.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIQJQ9gFMlk62-WTR2KtESmkDTbkc59Yto9_vXZaXBgqewzFJNFr-T41F5qVGNrdc_nj3xY6FOLsgOHhmPg88ynuf9jR1gsNo4vCX3zuvmGCYXD2SEZ-zVagE5lEMkTViK398due7K2wyS/s320/_MG_7229.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458746772980972130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><div>After lunch, we tackled the hike to Vernal Falls. An “EASY” hike all the books said. .8 Miles. No problem. Charlie was complaining it was wayee too easy before we even took step one. But halfway up, and I mean UP, we were all gasping for air. Charlie and Chase wanted to just turn around and go back down. But I wouldn’t quit, because there was an old man with a cane up ahead that was just kicking our ass! So as I urged everyone on, Chase remarked, “Well let’s go then, so we can get this over with!” Then she’d march on up ahead of us.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPXDlNaD9iUTtuCEI-enJz7LBJr4GoSop-7yOeeGU4EdLavq83eO_lRMqm-evrN4PPVy0yEGIfHOnmLLmv8iSOjNwUzpQ0BaEx_spYNrqOKYDxsmYVK4DvfgrCBDC-AOJWF2Ub2iCCqoO/s1600/_MG_7256.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPXDlNaD9iUTtuCEI-enJz7LBJr4GoSop-7yOeeGU4EdLavq83eO_lRMqm-evrN4PPVy0yEGIfHOnmLLmv8iSOjNwUzpQ0BaEx_spYNrqOKYDxsmYVK4DvfgrCBDC-AOJWF2Ub2iCCqoO/s320/_MG_7256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458747271034361010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t know what it is about all hikes we take. It was this way with Manoa Falls in Hawaii as well. Everyone says it’s short and easy, and it always ends up feeling like a death march! I mean, are we ALL that out of shape? Luckily, I wore a double layer of socks, so my too-big shoes were handling the hike like two champions on my toes. Now, I’m very grateful for those shoes because everything right now in Yosemite- every trail, every walkway, every driveway, everyTHING is just muddy and damp and puddled and soaked with melting snow. The shoes are doing their job.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5AjUgFS0hSIc5EzwKeBBzRzREnF34ripph8uVTbgH_klHyXRNYhuZ4pZV3JXZUhNLf_ZvwdTojEGzbisTWvA3SMpJ3UvAuAK4WxMgiemrrJUJAbpBHPIEmvncPX1-EKA0ynjqhUFIxgHk/s1600/_MG_7307.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5AjUgFS0hSIc5EzwKeBBzRzREnF34ripph8uVTbgH_klHyXRNYhuZ4pZV3JXZUhNLf_ZvwdTojEGzbisTWvA3SMpJ3UvAuAK4WxMgiemrrJUJAbpBHPIEmvncPX1-EKA0ynjqhUFIxgHk/s320/_MG_7307.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458749048167620146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGumjuNwiGOkSi0WN72lwCFXxCMs1A2cF0bTI2DzzXcYo1eXixtSXR3crQiNegvot93nxjn0GO-v4fuWae1FNv79skt9kmkyedUu0PoaaOdgD6uD2Arg1EbFxU-wgeEmuBOGlF08u_Uon3/s1600/_MG_7238.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGumjuNwiGOkSi0WN72lwCFXxCMs1A2cF0bTI2DzzXcYo1eXixtSXR3crQiNegvot93nxjn0GO-v4fuWae1FNv79skt9kmkyedUu0PoaaOdgD6uD2Arg1EbFxU-wgeEmuBOGlF08u_Uon3/s320/_MG_7238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458749040608899330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1LSiZ_flzawt8KLV6tJGFEDfMcU4x4-kWp3JMvRbu00yl1HzwLElbdaq7vBnyvIE-MkwqjVGc9N8Ai8EiHLaBsXjyZj64D5XQJSlMa-oUK5Rdcbs-sjIiwPBajSGWqtK-V_GmdWpcyiQ/s1600/_MG_7266.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1LSiZ_flzawt8KLV6tJGFEDfMcU4x4-kWp3JMvRbu00yl1HzwLElbdaq7vBnyvIE-MkwqjVGc9N8Ai8EiHLaBsXjyZj64D5XQJSlMa-oUK5Rdcbs-sjIiwPBajSGWqtK-V_GmdWpcyiQ/s320/_MG_7266.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458749029525863458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNivUWh0EkTSlVV36i4jxVoMs3KlLiQC_rTL04Yt0-H2StjrHvSfHPG8_oc-l1v53CUheaJX5xuo5TCB-wVUEkiZmYOlgWpHcVvZFuWZNtysY6sigru162MgmNhJ2FDzhE2qv-OPLA7Uh8/s1600/_MG_7263.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNivUWh0EkTSlVV36i4jxVoMs3KlLiQC_rTL04Yt0-H2StjrHvSfHPG8_oc-l1v53CUheaJX5xuo5TCB-wVUEkiZmYOlgWpHcVvZFuWZNtysY6sigru162MgmNhJ2FDzhE2qv-OPLA7Uh8/s320/_MG_7263.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458749024441174418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div>I was really hoping to continue past the bridge at Vernal Falls to the “MISTY TRAIL” which runs up to the top of the falls for another mile or so, but nobody else wanted to (And my heart probably would have just popped in my ribs if I had tried anyway.) But once we reached the bridge to Vernal Falls we all stopped for seaweed and peanut cookies, and Charlie whipped out her notebook to sketch some birds. Sitting on that rock in the wilderness with all the sounds of the wild around her, sketching away... Charlie reminded me of Darwin. Charlie has a blooming enthusiasm for birds. Before the trip I bought her a guidebook to Common Birds of North America, and she’s had quite a good time spying Yosemite’s feathered friends and noting what they are, then sketching them down.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwGskqDmqLMQWpCEt8dnHisQ2pSycMXRiVCpJJgLSfOf1Cs_XRJlEZ_Y72bZ8SieNFu83Qu2AXrwcXgm8nkulJvtxzW-_UHFG_8H1pOZJALyKmS70ppMadnl-ZZy4vlkaWc9wi63r2YSu/s320/_MG_7317.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458749052064868738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div>Shitze!...at 69%! I should be getting off the computer now because I am so exhausted from our day. Okay, so we didn’t trek through the back country. But we saw snow-capped beauty everywhere we looked, and on our way to our activities this morning we saw a coyote on the side of the road.</div><div><br /></div><div>FRIDAY</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItIWIUG0vP4WBT2aPGmy4CzUXrU9Ex4XN2bcbl96Hcq8Y38qdfRMRP0AFG_IS-FF5NkpHUsAca3zX_FIvD0cIYD2g4mVp0GB1o4TmnJ1E0g7J8eGRV5q8NDLhLsyaVwODezhsbEEF_NF3/s1600/_MG_7205.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItIWIUG0vP4WBT2aPGmy4CzUXrU9Ex4XN2bcbl96Hcq8Y38qdfRMRP0AFG_IS-FF5NkpHUsAca3zX_FIvD0cIYD2g4mVp0GB1o4TmnJ1E0g7J8eGRV5q8NDLhLsyaVwODezhsbEEF_NF3/s320/_MG_7205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458750086900610034" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cFl4rYLMEE3tMoYC8RnKsf8MkVctEgKWi03wRkocTlvHMvU5r-JTnMoR1jcV0FZ6Z3HkyYTRaR6aGXZypCz4QMfkc6QBjGSFTsTmQeW9PDNrXWIYVWXwDjIUJPixIUQvgJuR_nHe7sfv/s1600/_MG_7201.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cFl4rYLMEE3tMoYC8RnKsf8MkVctEgKWi03wRkocTlvHMvU5r-JTnMoR1jcV0FZ6Z3HkyYTRaR6aGXZypCz4QMfkc6QBjGSFTsTmQeW9PDNrXWIYVWXwDjIUJPixIUQvgJuR_nHe7sfv/s320/_MG_7201.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458750077748860850" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeSrOLvpJtoRTfsWDKzrgIANn3_MGrs37Snzo_CFJQTbhvcVbqSwXFVZ3cP2KECLFIbPBfaIBHVAbyPlsRFrhFgFTJ8eqQPtaIL-k6rozR3bNI6Geydof1M4_loF2YGFGgfhCZx5yYU7J/s1600/_MG_7204.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeSrOLvpJtoRTfsWDKzrgIANn3_MGrs37Snzo_CFJQTbhvcVbqSwXFVZ3cP2KECLFIbPBfaIBHVAbyPlsRFrhFgFTJ8eqQPtaIL-k6rozR3bNI6Geydof1M4_loF2YGFGgfhCZx5yYU7J/s320/_MG_7204.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458750069740702370" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwGskqDmqLMQWpCEt8dnHisQ2pSycMXRiVCpJJgLSfOf1Cs_XRJlEZ_Y72bZ8SieNFu83Qu2AXrwcXgm8nkulJvtxzW-_UHFG_8H1pOZJALyKmS70ppMadnl-ZZy4vlkaWc9wi63r2YSu/s1600/_MG_7317.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline; "><br /></span></span></div></div><div>Alright. Power is no longer an issue. My blog is no longer in jeopardy, my dear readers, because I spied a three-pronged electrical outlet in the hotel lobby and that’s where I am right now- with Charlie dutifully at my side. She’s working on her notebooks while I refine the blog and type on.</div><div><br /></div><div>If anyone dare label yesterday’s adventures as the “Day of the Waterfalls” then today was the “Day of the Trees.” Today we visited the Mariposa Sequoia Grove. Ah, but therein lies “the rub.” The road to the Sequoias was CLOSED. Too much snow! So what do you do when you’re in Yosemite and a road is closed but you still want to see something? You walk, naturally. And even more naturally, it was two miles of uphill walking. You’d think that we had learned our lesson yesterday and would just remain in our hotel rooms in fetal position for the day. But nah! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Instead, we chose to take an even LONGER hike than the one to Vernal Falls. True, the two mile journey was ON a road with tall snow embankments, but the incline was cruel. And the trek seemed forever. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Z7Hq8L1BUT9T8Ec59wZv05n0uNR9RyGuC6fqPVqauy5Q2hdzrCIiWpIB4c5AdrYcVoWlqfDz2BT_ylhSBV4-lXE7geV14JgIZ-Q7_oHRMq5bTOfXNSh2C1T1Kqq-NXUqKeXMN-ZtjdjI/s320/_MG_7338.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458750671977201922" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><div>We stopped many times, but stopping had its perks, because it gave Charlie plenty of chances to take photos of just about everything. Both girls took every possible opportunity to scoop up some snow and throw it around, as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>But once we reached the Sequoia Grove we were walking in a virtual winter wonderland. Our trail to the ancient trees was snow covered and from every direction all around us as we walked along were icy brooks of melted snow running downward under snow and fallen trees and mountain reeds. The sound of the forest complimented by impromptu tiny waterfalls and babbling brooks just made every aching muscle worthwhile.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Is it possible to respect a tree? I think so. I think if you’re not feeling something close to that when standing before the 3000 year-old Grizzly Giant, then you’re probably kind of a jerk. It was awe inspiring.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4o-OFo9lNC9o6vc2StEB6L8ZYaSgpSb6Ki-VGGSt_OhsW4LgsJwpam5n2GTQBpXGHM0LHpQA5wupn1uA6pn8vMHte3GuX5lviA-MWmC4GjDBr8jltPxPaqIqLL4uyzYZzDy2WMouck-G/s320/_MG_7414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458756220762266322" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And then oddly opposite that, just fifty yards away, was the California Tunnel Tree, and old tourist attraction where a tunnel has been carved through the ancient tree. And when you walk through the tree every available inch is covered with carved initials and all sorts of other human created bullshit. It was odd. People travel all that way to see a tree just to carve it. Silly humans. That’s probably why you don’t live to be 3000 years-old.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27u7dmm4BneNoV_ETUS5BhMoVfa8qXGmt-K27p8XnYOaSzHt2CdieGL0GZ6kx5hPs9D3wq6uHzeLEfj47AZ0vlq0kUAixjzkj7AYcT4NUDtfEXFqaJKh-FxfUn4utsmXCC7-S0k5bAS2d/s1600/_MG_7400.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27u7dmm4BneNoV_ETUS5BhMoVfa8qXGmt-K27p8XnYOaSzHt2CdieGL0GZ6kx5hPs9D3wq6uHzeLEfj47AZ0vlq0kUAixjzkj7AYcT4NUDtfEXFqaJKh-FxfUn4utsmXCC7-S0k5bAS2d/s320/_MG_7400.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458752669103498370" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP8IkC5mIvWxmCPlVkKeK-o8wE4Ur73aZuIED8cM63EnFUBYBP1IicbHl1nUkBBVa0qD9mItAfYEgsRAuufsguyUPmSkTfUuKByX_j6P16FEdEhWom_hBQUBVx8-JiE1WAWJlDg4aNhcw/s1600/_MG_7399.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP8IkC5mIvWxmCPlVkKeK-o8wE4Ur73aZuIED8cM63EnFUBYBP1IicbHl1nUkBBVa0qD9mItAfYEgsRAuufsguyUPmSkTfUuKByX_j6P16FEdEhWom_hBQUBVx8-JiE1WAWJlDg4aNhcw/s320/_MG_7399.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458752658566906610" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgy8Yr1_rLyerifYXXvg6MW6a9BPZngVR_svIgWYerF2McPPtePrLStTXAMIpjYEM40jHhMSbp03niIm_9rfnwA8EJJTg2T5Dxv9OcL-qfCvGu0UfH-B2m84GksvLE0vQD9w55UfOVMJ6/s1600/_MG_7383.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgy8Yr1_rLyerifYXXvg6MW6a9BPZngVR_svIgWYerF2McPPtePrLStTXAMIpjYEM40jHhMSbp03niIm_9rfnwA8EJJTg2T5Dxv9OcL-qfCvGu0UfH-B2m84GksvLE0vQD9w55UfOVMJ6/s320/_MG_7383.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458752650846295650" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2nlXIPD-m7lCcncsSaZ0a1GS3-JwuD2D3SAdXAnyllJomt4qEF19JJt0Zgy-IrMAKtfACcThG__RIfay6bBhBBEBw1iBhHmpikTzC91n4mGPPsqwiWPtK4iShYKukoUzjamDf0lvJo96/s1600/_MG_7377.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2nlXIPD-m7lCcncsSaZ0a1GS3-JwuD2D3SAdXAnyllJomt4qEF19JJt0Zgy-IrMAKtfACcThG__RIfay6bBhBBEBw1iBhHmpikTzC91n4mGPPsqwiWPtK4iShYKukoUzjamDf0lvJo96/s320/_MG_7377.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458752646772303394" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Z7Hq8L1BUT9T8Ec59wZv05n0uNR9RyGuC6fqPVqauy5Q2hdzrCIiWpIB4c5AdrYcVoWlqfDz2BT_ylhSBV4-lXE7geV14JgIZ-Q7_oHRMq5bTOfXNSh2C1T1Kqq-NXUqKeXMN-ZtjdjI/s1600/_MG_7338.JPG"></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On our way out of the Grove we discovered a wonderful little tiny waterfall where we all took pictures, and happily claimed it for our own. If any of you ever want to visit Dodge Falls, it’s halfway up the trail to the Grizzly Giant, behind a rather young Sequoia. It's a great picture spot. (Editor's Note: Poses were not provoked.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPIElHerOoar6XkZq19ZmjM0e-juGl90UT_9mvVIFMXKXOh5AfkMR9HmueQEvM_SePXkA22vVf7wEXUYgNmc2zMPIDf2gcaCw3-AvyTX8JJXRywfehc0fsZj7GPah_IzclEPiCgTftb0f/s1600/_MG_7427.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPIElHerOoar6XkZq19ZmjM0e-juGl90UT_9mvVIFMXKXOh5AfkMR9HmueQEvM_SePXkA22vVf7wEXUYgNmc2zMPIDf2gcaCw3-AvyTX8JJXRywfehc0fsZj7GPah_IzclEPiCgTftb0f/s320/_MG_7427.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458754674891173698" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_obalTodUyhvEL-OaKLaI2HzCQLGx__QSbx-46jMEzoGj64d_u4GovfpfV26loL-VKXKw_4JwvDXTOSyi7Y19_D_gpLiUoVcL_MT5tNAUXGlhxe6Ro9XaOZgKk2TD1WIgHMemgk9Ymq3/s320/_MG_7433.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458754657310735746" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNwg_0Rf8uNnQHNZ4HzEh1FK8rUPRSkvRRYdeOrWNXWmxB_tt9s6Cf-YmHFE-tLtU7emvGwGAk6Fd5DgxfShvcbRWVZ0kwFiJl5uGg_GcJt4ZpmUNgz35ZI32ZbfVPRT7nhgeeJ8Jz3p6/s1600/_MG_7424.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNwg_0Rf8uNnQHNZ4HzEh1FK8rUPRSkvRRYdeOrWNXWmxB_tt9s6Cf-YmHFE-tLtU7emvGwGAk6Fd5DgxfShvcbRWVZ0kwFiJl5uGg_GcJt4ZpmUNgz35ZI32ZbfVPRT7nhgeeJ8Jz3p6/s320/_MG_7424.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458754670637422594" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After making back down from he trail the Dodge Quartet picnicked on the porch of the Wawona, noshing hungrily on sub sandwiches and baked Cheetoh’s and washing all down with Hansen’s Root Beer, Pink Lemonade, and one Sierra Nevada. Then we all went back to the room and completely passed out.</div><div><br /></div><div>A note about the Wawona Hotel. The shower completely skeeved me out- it is an old timey claw-footed tub and a curtain that runs around its perimeter- making you feel like you are showering in a stranger’s uterus. But that really was my only problem with this nice little spot. The Wawona is a pleasant little place just stuffed with out-of-the-way charm. At night, we go to sleep to the crooning of a family of frogs that have taken up residence in the hotel’s pool that is drained for the season- yet filled halfway with melted snow water. The lobby has board games and crayons. There is a room with a piano player that sings old standards from the 30s from 6 to about 9:30 every night. And the porch is a place where you can just recline in a white wicker lounge chair in peace, and stare to some far off point and let your mind heal from all the daily scars made by life.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I think overall that is what Yosemite can do for people. It helps them heal. Sure, there is the scrambling around to see all the “this’s and that’s” but all you have to do here is just pick a place. And close your eyes. And listen. And smell. And feel.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9q0n5QDqLOTa6J-wiY4Sqahz3EvYnYFA_bAN6YwTOcu3WsPfIElKkp6xdiKBHVCPB_Rs0fpAIDlLeBTdVci0-wRUPaCq41oNuZEPfMpux8cZKmdpSMIidF9tdv4yMlnYRV4z_YOCoYVUK/s1600/_MG_7421.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9q0n5QDqLOTa6J-wiY4Sqahz3EvYnYFA_bAN6YwTOcu3WsPfIElKkp6xdiKBHVCPB_Rs0fpAIDlLeBTdVci0-wRUPaCq41oNuZEPfMpux8cZKmdpSMIidF9tdv4yMlnYRV4z_YOCoYVUK/s320/_MG_7421.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458756237765984066" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4o-OFo9lNC9o6vc2StEB6L8ZYaSgpSb6Ki-VGGSt_OhsW4LgsJwpam5n2GTQBpXGHM0LHpQA5wupn1uA6pn8vMHte3GuX5lviA-MWmC4GjDBr8jltPxPaqIqLL4uyzYZzDy2WMouck-G/s1600/_MG_7414.JPG"></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-66881879762056115072010-02-25T00:06:00.000-08:002010-02-25T00:43:08.446-08:00SAY 'FUCK NO' to CUSS FREE WEEK!<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">Legislators will vote on a bill to declare next week California Cuss Free Week. The bill is the alleged idea of South Pasadena High School student McKay Hutch, who started a No Cussing Club at his junior high in 2007- and since has been desperately seeking as much media attention as he can for it. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">How obnoxious is this? This kid and his (or his parents') idea are neither commendable nor American. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Firstly, let's all just admit that this is a stunt this boy's parents most likely set him up to do. Or at least, they took the nugget of the idea and set it up for him. Because how many twelve-year-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">olds</span> do you know that can whip up a media junket for a home-spun cause? None? Was that your answer? Correct. There are none. Because they are twelve. Kids this boy's age don't think like publicists. Unless they're super smart. So is that the case here? Is McKay sharp as a tack? No, because he's using the word "Cuss."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"> "CUSS" free week? What are we, a bunch of lobotomized bait and tackle junkies who live in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mayberry</span>? Because I love the English language, unlike this wannabe Jr. celebrity, I like to use it accurately. The term is SWEARWORD. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Thirdly, it angers me that children are being told it is acceptable to limit speech. Sure, because the words being limited are swearwords the topic feels safe and moral. But it's still sending the message of, "There are some words you shouldn't be allowed to say... or if you do say them, you're a bad person." The message isn't "Use words responsibly." Because that would require more work to teach the kids. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">There are even after school clubs for this thing. What do kids do, sit around and talk about how they didn't use a swearword? What a waste!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Finally, maybe California Legislators should instead be focusing their time on THE MAIN REASON WHY THERE ARE SO MANY CALIFORNIANS WANTING TO USE SWEARWORDS THESE DAYS. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hmmm</span> could it be because of their shitty legislating? GET TO WORK, YOU COLLECTION OF WORMY, FUNDRAISING DO NOTHINGS! WE LIVE IN THE GREATEST STATE IN THE UNION AND YOU RUN IT LIKE A PAWN SHOP.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Swearwords are the ultimate form of expression in any language. They are bracing and strong and effective when used properly. They evoke the purest senses of humor and danger. Every personal hero you ever have had has sworn a blue streak, I promise you.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">My daughters can say any bad word they want next week. I fucking promise all of you.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-77115343528136170822010-01-01T23:35:00.000-08:002010-01-02T02:35:19.077-08:00<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYX-raYIDIUOGv58JXO67gvRe1qQD597elxYp41CkTmFS9AggLM8_l2Gt016nRP_DLGc9XvYyK8SWmV1sx5L4v1HXvvhn8Ir-3q1S6sFc5vjAyU4ejNprMRbLq0lt_QdHmdnK_8tfpHkN/s320/_MG_6819.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422064389264439394" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So earlier today we were in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Candyland</span> candy store on Cannery Row in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Monterey</span>... Charlie and Tiffany had shuffled off to do some business of their own and Chase and I were the designated S.W.T.A.T. (Salt Water Taffy Acquisition Team.) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chasie</span> and I quickly and efficiently picked out a multitude of wonderful flavors - "Lemon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Somethingorother</span>" and "Banana <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Caramelwhosiwhatsit</span>" and other flavors in the same spirit. We had about a quarter pound worth of chewy happiness in our little check-out basket and were waiting in line for the weigh in slash payment. As I was admiring an Elvis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Pez</span> collector set (a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Pez</span> head for every phase of Elvis' career- 39.99) I heard a dramatic, tinny crash behind me. Chase had picked up a tin of hard candy and it had opened up on her and scattered all over the floor. The pieces of candy were not individually wrapped and both Chase and I knew exactly what the dozens of pieces of unpaid candy on the dirty floor meant. Or at least I thought we both knew what it meant. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">knelt</span> down to stealthily pick up the pieces in an effort to anonymously remove all evidence of said accident. As I was doing this Chase asked me with a tone of shock that was louder than the initial crash, "YOU'RE GOING TO PUT THEM BACK IN THE TIN, DAD?" Flustered and so, so suddenly self conscious, I tried as coolly as I could to laugh her off, "Of course not, don't be ridiculous!" Then I continued to pick up each elusive piece of candy off of the dirty dirty floor. Chase watched me for another beat and then asked even louder - I'm guessing because the notion of her question was so horrifying to even herself- "ARE YOU GOING TO PUT THE DIRTY CANDY SOMEWHERE AND NOT TELL ANYONE?" Now, doubly flustered, I was feeling the full weight of my Cannon Rebel Digital SLR dangling around my neck- especially since I was kneeling and trying to avoid eye contact with other patrons and possibly employees in this place. In fact, the more I cleaned up, the more people had to walk around me and the more I felt like ghostly Bob Marley and with his God Damned digital treasure chest of burden to carry for all-eternity. I removed the camera from around my neck and asked Chase to hold it for me while I continued to hide her crime- while she was trying to expose me for it!</div><div><br /></div><div>And it was then...just then...that it happened...</div><div><br /></div><div>Chase was holding the camera. I was trying to pinch up the rest of the stupid hard candy off the stupid floor. I looked up a split second just in time. </div><div><br /></div><div>To see Chase lose her hold on the SLR. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, free of any caretaker, the camera slowly plummeted to earth. And all I could do was watch it go. There was no time for anything but the simple, stupid act of watching. The camera fell at such a beautifully imperfect angle that all but promised an honest destruction. The corner of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">lens</span> hit hard first- so hard that the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">lens</span> cap dramatically popped away and <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">keeerpinged</span></i> off of a nearby candy stand before sliding like a hockey puck somewhere else in the store-</div><div><br /></div><div>But I'm going to freeze this moment in time. Let's just keep the camera <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">lens</span> a split second from its full impact, frozen there, angled against the floor. Why? Because it's something that I wished I could have done when all this was happening. Because, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">afterall</span>, I was on vacation with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughters...</div><div><br /></div><div>We had blasted off on this trip on the 29<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">th</span>. Two nights in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">SFO</span>, New Year's in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Monterey</span>, and a night in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Cambria</span> (where I'm writing this now.) The idea was to take a trip we've sort of taken before, but do things we've never done before. </div><div><br /></div><div>First item, getting back in touch with family. This is something I've really never done before, that's for sure. After a quick stop at a place called the BRAVO CHEESE FACTORY off Highway 99 (Truth: 99% gift shop and 1% guy in small room in back making cheese) we met up with my long lost nephew Richard and his mother Wendy. I hadn't seen Richard or Wendy since I was about fifteen, maybe younger. To be exact, I had completely lost contact with them for that extent of time, so seeing them was deep, to say the least. We met up in Fresno, at a joint called Tahoe Joe's. Imagine <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Applebee's</span> meets Claim Jumper. That's Tahoe Joe's. The semi-corny atmosphere, I think, helped keep emotions in check. Richard is now 27 and I feel old. He's a handsome man now and I didn't have the privilege of seeing him grow up. On that day though, I had the pleasure of bringing my past and present together by having him and his mother meet Tiffany and the girls, and it all felt right. But not perfect. For one, his sister Allison didn't make it. We'll have to reconnect again, next time with her as well.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio46xoJl1A1OEmK188ms8FNMxRe8qSYvcb50dHbn3h6-TOjvuIewSUSo6VyjntdBrStEaOCswOO-sIHASdi4o3Z6rjhIdqiz_-NeBWoiE56CRwvOlDQgwcuizZorxUJuVUp5Sb-ZpqXhmO/s1600-h/IMG_1346.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio46xoJl1A1OEmK188ms8FNMxRe8qSYvcb50dHbn3h6-TOjvuIewSUSo6VyjntdBrStEaOCswOO-sIHASdi4o3Z6rjhIdqiz_-NeBWoiE56CRwvOlDQgwcuizZorxUJuVUp5Sb-ZpqXhmO/s320/IMG_1346.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422063488670114002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div>After the reunion, we set off to San Francisco, and got in pretty late. We stayed at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel near Union Square. you know what that means, right? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">BEEFEATERS</span> FOR DOORMEN!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7S5kxMhX7w4EdkgbeodhXvzaxwkigy_qKa6vpOmTritNxtd9RxD1VcMX2dqyKj1F6UFoYKhl-e5ZV5KRZKGroQUDgnCsLddQulk2A8jCFB5O9EXNyLU9z7d1UCmovAc49kr5WBjLKmic/s1600-h/IMG_1354.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7S5kxMhX7w4EdkgbeodhXvzaxwkigy_qKa6vpOmTritNxtd9RxD1VcMX2dqyKj1F6UFoYKhl-e5ZV5KRZKGroQUDgnCsLddQulk2A8jCFB5O9EXNyLU9z7d1UCmovAc49kr5WBjLKmic/s320/IMG_1354.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422064792206845986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>The Sir Francis Drake had its charms. But it purported to be newly renovated. And the room that we stayed in was clearly not "newly" or "renovated" in any classic definition of those words. The cold water in the sink would only run in a trickle- which made hand washing appear slapstick. The one thing I didn't mind at all though was that the hotel allows dogs. Our neighboring guests howled off and on- which made the girls giggle wildly with amusement. </div><div><br /></div><div>Day One in San Francisco - DUCK TOUR! Remember Boston? Well, we did it in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">SFO</span> this time, which we've never done before. This time the tour handed out these <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">quackers</span> that didn't fall silent until the tour was well over with. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlmb1oCHq6Y6s5DtpC9LrSM52bG_Ks_tY3bWXiCH4RtSZmgPxbf8A4VsEjCG6NbZyuHqxHxfQNDURCjOKiE_SufsJchtuYQJfeAEaalpMCy59Jpb0lpr3NYuqSIgezCSBrF1LnpLmw2VN/s1600-h/_MG_6509.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlmb1oCHq6Y6s5DtpC9LrSM52bG_Ks_tY3bWXiCH4RtSZmgPxbf8A4VsEjCG6NbZyuHqxHxfQNDURCjOKiE_SufsJchtuYQJfeAEaalpMCy59Jpb0lpr3NYuqSIgezCSBrF1LnpLmw2VN/s320/_MG_6509.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422066505723388434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div>After the Duck tour we tackled one of the millions of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Italian</span> restaurants off Fisherman's Wharf! Remember that scene in Fantastic Mister Fox where they were all eating ravenously? That was us, but with clam chowder and crab meat. After our hearty meal it was time to tackle our next thing we've never done before- the Academy of Sciences. If you've never gone before I highly recommend it. I can only describe it as a combination of Natural History Museum, Planetarium and Aquarium all under one roof. Really nice. This place even has a full mini <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">rain forest</span>. The most popular sight though was the WHITE ALLIGATOR. Chase kept getting upset at me because whenever she asked why the Alligator was so still I would reply it was because it was waiting for little kids to fall over the railing into its tank.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ktz8KFzZs29UOjPz-qZFiUdxfdSfA1OI2p2Uo-x35dSFhPo-fbHYyoRndOCXuESKAsml6zqntmBxnoBd_WILIoxboS5-v_upMywV6V6YylhQtdCwLNQgO0qBVizDOH9XEwEdfvEDco9M/s1600-h/_MG_6567.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ktz8KFzZs29UOjPz-qZFiUdxfdSfA1OI2p2Uo-x35dSFhPo-fbHYyoRndOCXuESKAsml6zqntmBxnoBd_WILIoxboS5-v_upMywV6V6YylhQtdCwLNQgO0qBVizDOH9XEwEdfvEDco9M/s320/_MG_6567.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422074516333287602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>One thing to note about this place is that parking here was a bitch with a capitol "itch." I think we parked clear across Golden Gate Park from where this fine establishment is located. Which is fine- if you like to walk and stuff.</div><div><br /></div><div>That night we found this tiny hole in the wall Japanese Restaurant called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Katana</span> Ya right near the Tenderloin. Oh man...that spicy r<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">amen</span>. What a special memory, the four of us crammed together at a tiny corner table, slurping up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">ramen</span> and planning out the next day...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxXkB7ExTVnhv7HvrUJmORWfaGedezrixK7CCWkhkn3A3AlCAI1ha5yCFs34ez7nqnYFMl-DC_XmRnQWcHe7PG-ESZPtCLL90eZZk109bsGpkfCQLP_MpEkQOG0jipXi94xf4CIbU-00g/s1600-h/IMG_6779.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxXkB7ExTVnhv7HvrUJmORWfaGedezrixK7CCWkhkn3A3AlCAI1ha5yCFs34ez7nqnYFMl-DC_XmRnQWcHe7PG-ESZPtCLL90eZZk109bsGpkfCQLP_MpEkQOG0jipXi94xf4CIbU-00g/s320/IMG_6779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422069792645705698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div>That's right you maggots! Welcome to The ROCK! It may seem surprising that over all the years and times we've been to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">SFO</span>, none of us had ever been to Alcatraz. We hit the rock early in the morning. The park rangers have this program where if the kids complete an activity booklet while they are there then they get sworn in as "Junior Park Rangers." And they get a badge, which you see above. I have to say that Alcatraz might have had an effect on Chase. Even though it seemed to scare her she couldn't help but to step into a few of the jail cells- and even venture into "the hole." But once she got that badge and, I'm only assuming, felt the full weight of the United States Government behind her...well just look at the photo.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, this is a good point to mention that all of the photos of this trip were taken by Charlie. She really enjoys taking photos and asked if she could use my SLR. Normally I'd just rely on my lightweight system of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">iphone</span> camera and flip <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">HD</span> cam for photos and whatnot (Who needs a heavy camera around your neck?), but Charlie was intent on taking photos, so I of course obliged- as long as she assured me she'd be the one carrying the camera wherever she went, unless she had to go to the bathroom or tie her shoe or something. Here are some shots that I particularly love:</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhM2HmUCYBVZ6omxF6lv_5L3LtSpg4Bxjp8U2-5J8xzjCI9u65wyYJmcxsDEgElt2sPk__PWwK1D5JrSLFrRBbFHbgfiPsbB9uO5XdeHYwYFp_jITGGdozGwZPksGAtNc_7tq-4H1VNQi/s1600-h/_MG_6591.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhM2HmUCYBVZ6omxF6lv_5L3LtSpg4Bxjp8U2-5J8xzjCI9u65wyYJmcxsDEgElt2sPk__PWwK1D5JrSLFrRBbFHbgfiPsbB9uO5XdeHYwYFp_jITGGdozGwZPksGAtNc_7tq-4H1VNQi/s320/_MG_6591.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422074513437320578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiko0ojWaZpt1uLkUXfLPBZ_C6noGjqqsZz49XPoky8w5esX6eOGkdOXa2SrRJMu0hIQKIRZzNfEOHlKLo17p0Ge2i0xnKNlJipvZNGJyPRzsYTf7MIzWPsTypCl3pWeLN6QP6Zz65EGx15/s1600-h/_MG_6772.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiko0ojWaZpt1uLkUXfLPBZ_C6noGjqqsZz49XPoky8w5esX6eOGkdOXa2SrRJMu0hIQKIRZzNfEOHlKLo17p0Ge2i0xnKNlJipvZNGJyPRzsYTf7MIzWPsTypCl3pWeLN6QP6Zz65EGx15/s320/_MG_6772.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422074502242788466" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxSW2xldwtgU6n9shVOtA5KZo6X_VPb7HJZBsHuXYhJtn8CjxAYUYpYRF70EyL7be5hHDFTDHuxW9-2DpewnjuHJRWQ26mXwO_o5Ob6zREDLyxElBPqgAzv4X03AlzCx2fXx3jSAptpZJ/s1600-h/_MG_6657.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxSW2xldwtgU6n9shVOtA5KZo6X_VPb7HJZBsHuXYhJtn8CjxAYUYpYRF70EyL7be5hHDFTDHuxW9-2DpewnjuHJRWQ26mXwO_o5Ob6zREDLyxElBPqgAzv4X03AlzCx2fXx3jSAptpZJ/s320/_MG_6657.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422074500000559186" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdr1-qQDZq4OGb9bzrNTHXHzY0y1vGJz-e54C5pSlQ2c_5gxB8Xwz2cJlkBWpdjs7F_E3-s8IpkKunOWC22hPWuryoUs9q99btza3H0Qu1sYg_Ln0sOd4WdDL8l0S9QzI1TEUeRvUgpXu/s1600-h/_MG_6919.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdr1-qQDZq4OGb9bzrNTHXHzY0y1vGJz-e54C5pSlQ2c_5gxB8Xwz2cJlkBWpdjs7F_E3-s8IpkKunOWC22hPWuryoUs9q99btza3H0Qu1sYg_Ln0sOd4WdDL8l0S9QzI1TEUeRvUgpXu/s320/_MG_6919.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422076173694694610" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>So after Alcatraz we jumped in the Volvo and made our way to Crissy Park, down by the Golden Gate Bridge. We'd never been there before, yet seen lots of people in photos there. So we decided to give it a crack. Seeing the Golden Gate that close up was something new.</div><div><br /></div><div>After that we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">bebopped</span> down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Monterey</span> just in time for a New Year's Eve feast at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Montrio</span> Bistro. (Insert Fantastic Mr. Fox scene again.) If you love yourself you will find your way to this restaurant. Period.</div><div><br /></div><div>It turns out that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Monterey</span> was having a New Year's Eve street fair of sorts called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">MONTEREY</span> FIRST NIGHT. So the gals and I walked up and down the main drag and ultimately caught a Chinese Dancing Dragon show. There was only one Asian in the troupe- which made the wife and I chuckle. Moreover, the last part of their dragon dance was done to some obscure Roger Plant solo song. But hey, it was something to watch and we had a good time, before we clambered back to the hotel room to get comfy for a quiet and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">snuggly</span> countdown in front of the TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>So this morning was all about the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Monterey</span> Bay Aquarium. As usual, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. The Aquarium as a whole is very diligent in pressing the issue of responsible fish consumption. They pass out these pocket pamphlets called SEAFOOD WATCH which lists which fish are okay to eat and which ones you'd have to be a real jerk to eat. It seems like an odd turn that once you step outside of the Aquarium just about every fish joint on Cannery Row will gladly serve up some of what's on the naughty list of that pamphlet. Ah, tourism.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I'm typing this I'm thinking about this trip. And even though we did many new things, I don't have any real stand out memories of the places we've been. Instead, I remember things about the girls. On this trip I've noticed their relationship with each other changing. Jokes being shared. (I don't know why but they kept saying the term "TURKEY PANTS" over and over again, then exploding with laughter.) I enjoyed watching them more than any sight I saw on the trip. I wish I could simply travel the world with them, not really to see the world, but just for all the time it would give us together.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, back to our frozen moment. With my digital camera. And my frozen agape mouth. And my popping blood vessels. I guess it's time to unfreeze the moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>CRACK!</div><div><br /></div><div>I look down at the camera. I can't bear to pick it up. I just know the sound of my camera's rattle broken guts will make me puke. Finally a man walked up to me. He'd been watching the whole thing and couldn't take the suspense. "Is it broken?" He asked. Chase was very quiet. And very still, as if she thought any sudden movement might speed up her demise. "Is it broken?" the man asked a second time but twice as fast. I finally picked up the camera. Turned it on. Took a photo of the annoyed teen behind the register who didn't give a shit about any of this drama. The picture's clear.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Nope." I said with relief.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh." The man said with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">disappointment</span>. He walked away. I looked down at Chase. I wanted to yell at first, but instead I just nodded. No harm done. We're on vacation. It's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">OK</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just like so much, things get dropped...banged up...but it will all work out somehow in the end.</div><div><br /></div><div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNSjufEQHxI1HYc8cWZGnzMjFp2V587E0GzCdQuHaIuRBUwYnr5Mivc9oNcFOBAq7IT-1ZRhCAuq-I6xxkV1RwVkuByMA_lUYM9teKlfKN8ssr2Ay62XWXocE4BukC34rX0g5cGplJdhg/s1600-h/_MG_7037.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNSjufEQHxI1HYc8cWZGnzMjFp2V587E0GzCdQuHaIuRBUwYnr5Mivc9oNcFOBAq7IT-1ZRhCAuq-I6xxkV1RwVkuByMA_lUYM9teKlfKN8ssr2Ay62XWXocE4BukC34rX0g5cGplJdhg/s320/_MG_7037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422087312821462146" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-36261482241895256812009-12-10T16:00:00.000-08:002009-12-10T17:07:45.676-08:00(W.O.C.) War On Christmas: What would our Christmas be like without the Baby Jesus?So I think maybe a little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pondering</span> is necessary. What would Christmas be like if it wasn't, in any way, focused on the sweet baby Jesus? It's already headed that way, but let's just cut <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jebus</span> out entirely of Christmas...how would we be different?<br /><br /><strong>Charlie Brown Christmas Special.</strong><br /><br /><u>WITH JESUS</u><br /><br />Charlie Brown declares, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" Linus replies, "Sure Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about..." Then he walks center stage and requests..."Lights, please?" before he goes on his religious monologue about baby <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Jesus</span> and the angels. And then Linus wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Douglas</span> fur with fancy lights and they all sing.<br /><br /><u><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">WITHOUT</span> JESUS</u><br /><u></u><br />Charlie Brown declares, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" Linus replies, "Sure Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about..." Then he walks center stage and declares..."The lights! <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Puhleese</span>!"</em> And then his wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Douglas</span> fur with fancy lights and they all sing.<br /><br />In my opinion... the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Jesusless</span> Charlie Brown Christmas Special is a lot more honest. Because really, what little kid cares about some mythological superhero baby over cool <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Christmas</span> lights and friends and family?<br /><br /><strong>THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />It's the same... Grinch doesn't have Jesus in its message at all. Why? Because Grinch centers on the idea of the importance of merely being with one another over gifts. It also focuses on how a "good society" can get past tradition and cherish the important things in life. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Jeepers</span>...I wonder what's "traditional" about Christmas? Could it be the religious aspect? Thus Grinch is practically ANTI-RELIGIOUS <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">muuuaahahaha</span>.<br /><br /><strong>Christmas trees</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><u>With Jesus</u><br /><u></u><br />An angel on the top of the tree. And the knowledge that the "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Christmas</span> tree" was a practice stolen from one religion for another- a stolen tradition, rather.<br /><br /><u>Without Jesus</u><br /><u></u><br />No angel. Not much difference. Nobody buys a tree because they love baby Jesus. They buy a tree because they love the smell and the enjoy the thrill of something to put presents under, hence it's a celebration of nature (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">harking</span> back to its original religious intent) and generosity, both are values that happily exist without wonder baby.<br /><br /><strong>Nativity</strong><br /><br /><u>With Jesus</u><br /><u></u><br />A barn with barn animals, angels, adults, and a baby.<br /><br /><u>Without Jesus</u><br /><u></u><br />A barn with barn animals and adults. Doesn't quite say much. In fact, it kind of highlights how strange the image is when you go ahead and throw in the whole baby and angel part. Feels more like a joke: "A sheep, a virgin, and a baby all walked into a barn..."<br /><br /><strong>A CHRISTMAS CAROL</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />Only one difference: Tiny Tim's one-liner: "God Bless us, everyone!" Even without Jesus that line can hang in there. In Truth, nobody in America celebrated <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Christmas</span> until the publishing of Charles <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Dickens's</span> pretty awesomely a-religious story- yet now people cling to Christmas like it's some 800 year old tradition. So if A Christmas Carol isn't about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Jebus</span>, what's it about? Oh, you know...the usual themes that exist when you're not trying to convert someone...kindness, togetherness, family, generosity.<br /><br /><br />In my opinion, and it seems the growing opinions of most humans, Christmas is and kind of never has been really about Jesus. Thus the war seems to continue.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-70526776374362775212009-12-02T15:56:00.000-08:002009-12-02T15:59:14.203-08:00THE TRUTH ABOUT FLYING REINDEERHere is a great quick seasonal read for all.<br />*****<br /><br />The Truth About Flying Reindeer<br />By<br />Horatio Duncan<br /><br /> Here’s a question that everyone gets asked at least once in their life, “Do you like Christmas?” Most people answer “Yes.” Some say “No.” But it can be said that for the most part most everyone enjoys Christmas – even if it’s just a little bit.<br /> Christmastime is all about giving and taking, nogging and noshing, partying and celebrating. It’s all about snow, or no snow, lights or too many lights, Santa and his Reindeer and snowmen – or snowwomen, because we do, after all, live in a civilized age.<br /> But this story doesn’t cover all of those things. This story only deals with one element of the barrage of Christmas joys:<br /><br />Flying Reindeer. <br /><br /> If you think about it, and I hope you do, flying reindeer are the most important part of Christmas, are they not? Without Reindeer, Santa would have to cross the globe in one, single night either on foot, pogo stick, or bus. And we all know that nobody - not even Jolly old St. Nick – can make it to every house in the world in one night by foot, pogo, or bus – especially by bus!<br /> No, Santa relies on flying reindeer. Not regular reindeer, but only those of the flying variety. Because anybody who knows anything about regular reindeer knows full well that if they were asked to pull a sleigh around the world (even by Santa) they would just give a grumpy snortle and walk back into the woods. No, flying reindeer are what makes Santa Claus so wonderful. They pull his sleigh full of presents and get him to where he needs to go. And it should be pointed out here that they do it without using a single drop of Gas, and are completely friendly to the environment.<br /> But who gets all the credit? Santa, that’s who! Oh sure oh sure, there’s the story of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer - but that was just a song and a story made up by a department store to get more people interested in buying things for the holidays. There’s no such thing as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer! COME ON, THINK ABOUT IT! A RED NOSE? HOW PURPOSTEROUS!!! Everyone knows that flying reindeer noses are all black. And you can bet your candy canes that no flying reindeer that’s ever been or ever will be would walk around with the name RUDOLPH. Blech!<br /> Here’s a question… Have you ever written a letter to a flying reindeer, asking him or her to please stay healthy so that Santa can make it on Christmas Eve? NOPE. Besides that foolishness with Rudolph the fake nosed reindeer, are there any songs about flying reindeer? NOPE! Even in the Rudolph song, all the other Reindeer were described as jerks that wouldn’t let Rudolph join in the fun. Everyone knows real flying reindeer are very generous.<br /> So now you are going to find out about what flying reindeer are really all about. THE TRUTH. The truth about flying reindeer, and how they change the lives of at least one family every Christmas. (So take that, Rudolph!)<br /> First, let’s look at the difference between a flying reindeer and a regular reindeer. There’s all sorts of differences! For one thing, flying reindeer have a species name all to their own. They are called Fliegen. And Fliegen can do so many more magical things than just fly up in the sky. Fliegen have the ability to communicate with people. Not just anybody, mind you, only those who have the born talent to speak Flie- which is an unknown animal language that can’t be taught. People can only be born already knowing how to speak and understand it. Santa Claus is one of those people.<br /> If a shooting star crosses across the night sky at the moment a reindeer is born, they instantly become a Fliegen. As you can deduct, these two events don’t happen at the exact same moment very often. That is why Fliegen are so rare and special. You won’t be seeing a Fliegen walking down the street any time soon, that’s for sure.<br />Fliegen and regular reindeer don’t really get along. When a Fliegen is born from a regular reindeer, other Fliegen adopt it and raise it as their own. This may seem sad, but it is better for the baby Fliegen. There is too much jealously among regular reindeer.<br /> A Fliegen’s diet consists of snowbarb- a special wintertime green that grows through the snow, sugarbeets and barley cane. It has recently been discovered that they also are very partial to cheese and, of course, would never turn down an offer of a friendly lick from a candy cane.<br /> When Fliegen are young their coats are pure white. As they grow into adulthood, they shed their white fur to reveal a rich, chocolate coat underneath. The adult males develop antlers as strong as steel and adult females grow a heart-shaped fur pattern on their wide breasts. As mentioned before, every Fliegen’s nose is as black as night, and curiously enough, they all have purple tongues as well.<br /> Fliegen are very generous. If another animal approaches during mealtime, they will happily share their food – even if there isn’t much. The only natural enemy of a Fliegen is the Snowy Titmouse, a gossipy little bird of tremendous annoyance. Since Fliegen don’t like to gossip that much, well - I’m sure you can understand why the two species don’t get along. Fliegen also don’t like to be in the vicinity of nuns. A Fliegen will develop quite a rash if put into close contact with a nun.<br /> Alone, individually, Fliegen, in fact, cannot fly that great of a distance. At most they can glide only a hundred yards or so. But together, Fliegen can easily fly as long and as far as they want. Why is this? Because Fliegen enjoy each other’s company and they enjoy hard work. So, working hard together is the greatest treat to them!<br /> Thanks to many inaccurate stories and just plain obnoxiously incorrect songs, most people believe that Santa has a stable where he keeps his Fliegen. This is just plain false. Fliegen are the most elegant, noble creatures, and they would never, ever allow themselves to be cooped up in some old barn in the north pole! They’re not mules!<br /> The way it works is this: Every year, right after Thanksgiving time, Nik-Klaas (he’s got so many names) leaves his cozy estate in Lapland, Finland. That’s right. The big fella doesn’t live in the North Pole. Have you seen pictures of the North Pole? Nobody could live there…it’s too cold! There isn’t any plumbing or electricity or internet – it’s completely uninhabitable. So, Nik-Klaas puts on a special bright green fur suit then makes the ten day trek from his place to Earfell Forest. Earfell Forest is a massive forest, thick with towering trees of all winter variety, and it is where the Fliegen live. Some believe Earfell Forest to be haunted, but if anyone tells you that, then you know for sure that they aren’t too smart. Forests thrive with life - otherwise they wouldn’t be forests! And how can a ghost be truly happy haunting a place with so much life. The Earfell Forest is no different. Nik-klaas walks to the edge of the forest. He doesn’t ever walk into the forest out of respect for the Fliegen’s personal space. Nik-klaas steps right up to the very edge, then tucks snowbarb and sugarbeets and barley cane into his burly beard, then calls out in Flie to the Fliegen. Now, what he says can’t be translated, but the closest words that resemble what he calls out are,<br /><br />“Ho ho ho!” <br /><br /> After Nik-klaas calls out for the Fliegen, he kneels down on one knee and lowers his head as a gesture of the great respect that he has for the animals, and remains that way for as long as it takes until one by one, some Fliegen appear. Usually two dozen or so Fliegen show up to greet their friend. <br /> Contrary to another popular falsehood, it is not Santa who chooses his team, but rather the team who chooses Santa. Although they feel that pulling Santa’s sleigh can be tremendous fun, sometimes a Fliegen just isn’t in the mood. So after two dozen or so Fliegen gather at the edge of the forest, the nine that decide they want to help Nik-klaas out that year step forward, lean down, and pull one of the tasty offerings out of Santa’s big beard. Once nine have done so, Santa rises, bows again deeply, turns around and heads home. The Fliegen return to the forest, but know to show up at Nik-klaas’ place on Christmas Eve. <br /> On the morning of Christmas Eve, just as the sun rises, hoofs can always be heard crashing into the snow outside of Nik-Klaas’ house. While they await their departure later that evening, the Fliegen are fed hearty meals of cheese and sugarbeets and snowbarb and barley cane, and giving the highest quality scratches with every minute that goes by. Has it been mentioned yet that Fliegen love a good scratch between the ears? Nik-klaas himself comes out to check on their mood, updates them on the weather, and usually tells them a really good joke about a snowman who likes to eat candy canes.<br /> If you haven’t guessed it already, Nik-klaas is very much loved by all Fliegen. When he was a child, it was a Fliegen that saved him from certain death. And then later, it was Nik-klaas who grew Earfell Forest for them to seek refuge in back during the days when nuns were trying to run them out of existence. But all that is to be told another time.<br /> Once nightfall arrives, Nik-klaas’ assistants gently harness all nine Fliegen to the loaded sleigh. Nik-klaas comes out a final time, stands before them in his bright red fur suit, and kneels deeply to say “Thank you.” If the Fliegen all kneel back in unison, then it is time for take-off!<br /> Take-offs…what a sight to see! Nik-klaas gives the go ahead in Flie and the Fliegen all start to gallop. Such a clip, of course, fills Nik-klaas with so much glee that his chuckles boom out into the cold air. The chuckles, in turn, make the Fliegen so excited that they rush forth with nearly the speed of a jet and up and off they go!<br /> So how does Santa make it everywhere in the world in one single night? Have you ever thought about that? Well, the secret is this: Fliegen don’t just fly really fast. They fly faster than time! They pull that old red sleigh with such velocity that they actually can pull ahead of time. As you well know just by watching the second-hand of a clock, time can only go so fast. Fliegen, when working together, can move much faster. <br />Now you know.<br /> Fliegen are indeed still living, breathing creatures. And with all living, breathing creatures, Fliegen have…functions. To put it delicately, every Christmas Eve, there is one rooftop somewhere in the world that ends up with a little poo on it. But this isn’t regular poo, this is Fliegen poo. And as with everything else about the Fliegen, their droppings are magical, too. Nobody wants poo on their house rooftops, and the Fliegen respect this. That is why Fliegen poo turns into gold. The gold will stay on the rooftop until the end of the year. If the people who live in the house discover it before the New Year, then they get invited to Nik-klaas’ house to live and help and enjoy Christmastime for a whole year. It may seem like a long time to be away from the life that you know, but OH THE MEMORIES.<br /> <br /> So the next time you sing about Christmas and Santa and Rudolph and Frosty…the next time you think about Jack Frost - who always so rudely nips at your nose…think about those kind, noble beasts that really represent the gentleness and generosity that Christmas should be about.<br /><br />FLIEGEN: THE FLYING REINDEER.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7371208307948926679.post-32698170941750275912009-11-30T11:04:00.001-08:002009-11-30T12:57:27.279-08:00W.O.C. (War on Christmas): SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS A CHRISTMAS IMPOSTOR - WHO YOU GIVE TO SAYS A LOT ABOUT WHO YOU ARE.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFVOLH2_VeqXWCmABZ_Ngpl1m-wAkJbhObfbQRt2-MQGPHA5w4ru45dUHbhai3xwxC5l5xq-Tfc5kHkBQbYmlhp8YBGxH50a6nP0Abx__KdaTv9DTo1RBXwFYiSOBlFLXODmBm9yfv_6P/s1600/Dec2005RamonaBarPartySaintVincentDePaulSanta%20112.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409974749727993522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFVOLH2_VeqXWCmABZ_Ngpl1m-wAkJbhObfbQRt2-MQGPHA5w4ru45dUHbhai3xwxC5l5xq-Tfc5kHkBQbYmlhp8YBGxH50a6nP0Abx__KdaTv9DTo1RBXwFYiSOBlFLXODmBm9yfv_6P/s320/Dec2005RamonaBarPartySaintVincentDePaulSanta%2520112.jpg" border="0" /></a> So now is the season. Now is the time. As we urgently dart from store to store, elbowing other shoppers and shoving our molten credit cards into the starving mouths of store clerks, we hear that "ting-a-ling-a-ling" in the distance. And then we all proclaim, "Ah right! Salvation Army Santa wants my loose change. No problem."<br /><br />BUT I SAY HALT! STOP! DO NOT PULL YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR POCKET! DO NOT GIVE YOUR MONEY TO THAT BEARDED CRETIN!<br /><br /><strong>THE SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS AN <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IMPOSTOR</span> TO THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS. </strong>He's a fraud, a bastard, a bluffer and a cheat. That is, if you truly believe that the spirit of Christmas is about peace and togetherness.<br /><br />Through the years the Salvation Army has been aggressive and unapologetic in it's anti-gay and pro-Christian politics.<br /><br />The Salvation Army advocates against imposing "the category of sexual orientation to the list of anti-discrimination protections" by states and cities as well as against "equal benefits to domestic partnership".<br /><br />The Salvation Army also does not hire people who are known to be gay and <em>fires</em> those who are gay when legally allowed to do so.<br /><br />The Salvation Army states on its website, "Scripture forbids sexual intimacy between members of the same sex. The Salvation Army believes, therefore, that Christians whose sexual orientation is primarily or exclusively same-sex are called upon to embrace celibacy as a way of life." Jesus...who wants <em>that?</em><br /><br />And guess what? They do the exact same with employees or applicants who don't share the same religious beliefs.<br /><br />"Hey, it's their club...they can decide how they want to play- be it right or wrong." you say. But here's the rub: nearly $300 Million (with a capitol M) of our very hard-to-come by tax dollars are funding them every single year. That instantly turns their club that doesn't like to play fair into an institution that is just damned downright <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">UNAMERICAN</span>!<br /><br />So here's the tally: Anti-Gay. Anti-anything but Jesus. Anti-American. That is some charity.<br /><br />Donating to the Salvation Army this season- ESPECIALLY in the times we live in where every dollar that we give truly means something because we all have fewer dollars, says a lot about who you are. It says that you agree with all of the above. Don't get sucked into the Salvation Army's charity sob stories, because there are worthy charities that don't endorse exclusion and hate nearly everywhere else you look.<br /><br />Ho Ho Ho. Ting-a-ling.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0