The BlatherSciolist

A SHORT STORY BY CHARLIE DODGE

2011-12-21T17:23:00.000-08:00

CHRISTMAS AFTER ALL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES...DONE

2011-08-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am so fuckin' ready for the push!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

1) The Opportunity to Learn at a College.

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

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

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

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

Profanity

Birthdays

Halloween Costumes

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

Frankie

Horses

The Great Spaghetti Monster in the Sky

Eddie Izzard

Death

The Afterlife

Volcanos

The Beatles

Next Year's Talent Show

Story Structure

Body Image

Body Hair

Funny TV Commercials

Green Day

Guitar Chords

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

Futurama

Droopy Dog

The Future

Snoopy

Charles Schultz

Mormons

South Park

USC

Jail

Oregon Trail

American Indians

Candy

Politics

White Water Rafting

Gerardia

Stephen Hawkings

Poop

Make-up

The Bullshit of the NCAA

Rocks

Elvis

My Childhood

Tiffany's Childhood

Bear attacks

Camping Outdoors

How nothing is free

The Bill of Rights.

M&Ms

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

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

Mahmahmahmah Shoshone. Yellowstone and Restaurant Surprise!

2011-08-27T22:05:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FROM CAVES TO CRATERS...TO BOISE

2011-08-25T20:57:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You have?!" I ask.

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

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

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

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

A raft down the River

2011-08-23T22:13:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

2) The chef was a cross-dresser.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TREESORT!

2011-08-22T22:34:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TEN DAYS, THREE THOUSAND MILES.

2011-08-21T20:15:00.001-07:00

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

Ahem...

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

(Drive Thru Speaker)

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

"We need a minute, please..."

"One number two combo?"

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

(long pause)

"Will that be all?"

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

"So no number two combo?"

"No."

"Then what would you like?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2011-04-10T19:21:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RED TAPE? TRY RED BODIES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EVER PET A SHARK? WELL, CHASE JUST DID

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

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

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

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

DAMN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRUISIN'

2010-08-23T10:43:00.001-07:00

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.)

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN...

2010-08-18T11:18:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76rmXyl-VP8

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.

Space Needle Mexican Jumping Beans

2010-08-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

So as we were flying from Los Angeles to Seattle Chase looks out the window of the plane and asks,

"So that bump in the wing...that's where they keep the bombs and the machine guns?"

Tiffany and I looked at her... "What?"

"That's where the airplane keeps the bombs and the machine guns, right?"

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!

Seattle is just phase one of "Funathon 3000, 2010." Phase Two is a cruise to Alaska. But that's for later...

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.

The next day, we went right back! (We had a nifty coupon) to see what Seattle looks like so high up...during the day. Is it me or is Seattle brighter during the day than at night? Anyhoodle, we then shadooped over to the very nearby Music Experience and the Scifi 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.

Right in the same sweeping super structure that holds the music experience (that is very reminiscent of the Disney Hall in Los Angeles) we hit the Scifi 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.

After I was finished nerding 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.

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 Scifi Museum...then wax machines...then a laser show to the Beatles! You'd think it was almost my birthday and not Charlie's.

Chase did fall asleep while lying on the floor of the laser dome. 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 zag and waggle with my two girls, even if one of them was asleep.

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.

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.

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. Heh heh.

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.

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!

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.

Here is a video on youtube of our seattle visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W64w3UCZcWs

Second Chances.

2010-04-18T23:42:00.001-07:00

Well. What can I say. I guess I'll just lay it out as it happened.

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 nothin'.

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.

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 wayee too long. Nobody wanted him.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce our new friend, family member, and sources of I'm sure peaks of both joy and challenge:

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.

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.

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.

1. Circumstance presents the animal to us. We don't seek the animal. (Just like how we meet most of anyone we love.)

2. The animal is not a purebred.

3. The animal's life most likely depends on whether or not we adopt it.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 youtube frequently.

2010-04-10T22:03:00.000-07:00

Wednesday.

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.

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.

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!

Oh yeah, and no television. But the girls don’t mind.

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.”)

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.

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!

THURSDAY

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...

...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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

FRIDAY

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

SAY 'FUCK NO' to CUSS FREE WEEK!

2010-02-25T00:06:00.000-08:00

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.

How obnoxious is this? This kid and his (or his parents') idea are neither commendable nor American.

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-olds 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."

"CUSS" free week? What are we, a bunch of lobotomized bait and tackle junkies who live in Mayberry? Because I love the English language, unlike this wannabe Jr. celebrity, I like to use it accurately. The term is SWEARWORD.

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.

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!

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. Hmmm 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.

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.

My daughters can say any bad word they want next week. I fucking promise all of you.

2010-01-01T23:35:00.000-08:00

So earlier today we were in the Candyland candy store on Cannery Row in Monterey... 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.) Chasie and I quickly and efficiently picked out a multitude of wonderful flavors - "Lemon Somethingorother" and "Banana Caramelwhosiwhatsit" 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 Pez collector set (a Pez 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 knelt 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!

And it was then...just then...that it happened...

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.

To see Chase lose her hold on the SLR.

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 lens hit hard first- so hard that the lens cap dramatically popped away and keeerpinged off of a nearby candy stand before sliding like a hockey puck somewhere else in the store-

But I'm going to freeze this moment in time. Let's just keep the camera lens 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, afterall, I was on vacation with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughters...

We had blasted off on this trip on the 29th. Two nights in SFO, New Year's in Monterey, and a night in Cambria (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.

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 Applebee's 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.

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? BEEFEATERS FOR DOORMEN!

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.

Day One in San Francisco - DUCK TOUR! Remember Boston? Well, we did it in SFO this time, which we've never done before. This time the tour handed out these quackers that didn't fall silent until the tour was well over with.

After the Duck tour we tackled one of the millions of Italian 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 rain forest. 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.

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.

That night we found this tiny hole in the wall Japanese Restaurant called Katana Ya right near the Tenderloin. Oh man...that spicy ramen. What a special memory, the four of us crammed together at a tiny corner table, slurping up ramen and planning out the next day...

That's right you maggots! Welcome to The ROCK! It may seem surprising that over all the years and times we've been to SFO, 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.

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 iphone camera and flip HD 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:

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.

After that we bebopped down to Monterey just in time for a New Year's Eve feast at the Montrio Bistro. (Insert Fantastic Mr. Fox scene again.) If you love yourself you will find your way to this restaurant. Period.

It turns out that Monterey was having a New Year's Eve street fair of sorts called MONTEREY 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 snuggly countdown in front of the TV.

So this morning was all about the Monterey 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.

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.

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.

CRACK!

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.

"Nope." I said with relief.

"Oh." The man said with disappointment. 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 OK.

Just like so much, things get dropped...banged up...but it will all work out somehow in the end.

(W.O.C.) War On Christmas: What would our Christmas be like without the Baby Jesus?

2009-12-10T16:00:00.000-08:00

So I think maybe a little pondering 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 Jebus out entirely of Christmas...how would we be different?

Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

WITH JESUS

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 Jesus and the angels. And then Linus wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar Douglas fur with fancy lights and they all sing.

WITHOUT JESUS

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! Puhleese!" And then his wraps his shitty blanket around the crappy tree and makes it look like it's an eighty dollar Douglas fur with fancy lights and they all sing.

In my opinion... the Jesusless Charlie Brown Christmas Special is a lot more honest. Because really, what little kid cares about some mythological superhero baby over cool Christmas lights and friends and family?

THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS

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. Jeepers...I wonder what's "traditional" about Christmas? Could it be the religious aspect? Thus Grinch is practically ANTI-RELIGIOUS muuuaahahaha.

Christmas trees

With Jesus

An angel on the top of the tree. And the knowledge that the "Christmas tree" was a practice stolen from one religion for another- a stolen tradition, rather.

Without Jesus

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 (harking back to its original religious intent) and generosity, both are values that happily exist without wonder baby.

Nativity

With Jesus

A barn with barn animals, angels, adults, and a baby.

Without Jesus

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..."

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

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 Christmas until the publishing of Charles Dickens's 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 Jebus, what's it about? Oh, you know...the usual themes that exist when you're not trying to convert someone...kindness, togetherness, family, generosity.

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.

THE TRUTH ABOUT FLYING REINDEER

2009-12-02T15:56:00.000-08:00

Here is a great quick seasonal read for all.
*****

The Truth About Flying Reindeer
By
Horatio Duncan

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.
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.
But this story doesn’t cover all of those things. This story only deals with one element of the barrage of Christmas joys:

Flying Reindeer.

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!
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.
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!
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.
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!)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
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,

“Ho ho ho!”

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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
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.
Now you know.
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.

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.

FLIEGEN: THE FLYING REINDEER.

W.O.C. (War on Christmas): SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS A CHRISTMAS IMPOSTOR - WHO YOU GIVE TO SAYS A LOT ABOUT WHO YOU ARE.

2009-11-30T11:04:00.001-08:00

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."

BUT I SAY HALT! STOP! DO NOT PULL YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR POCKET! DO NOT GIVE YOUR MONEY TO THAT BEARDED CRETIN!

THE SALVATION ARMY SANTA IS AN IMPOSTOR TO THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS. 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.

Through the years the Salvation Army has been aggressive and unapologetic in it's anti-gay and pro-Christian politics.

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".

The Salvation Army also does not hire people who are known to be gay and fires those who are gay when legally allowed to do so.

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 that?

And guess what? They do the exact same with employees or applicants who don't share the same religious beliefs.

"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 UNAMERICAN!

So here's the tally: Anti-Gay. Anti-anything but Jesus. Anti-American. That is some charity.

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.

Ho Ho Ho. Ting-a-ling.

XMAS DISNEYLAND

2009-11-29T21:59:00.000-08:00

Just spent the day at the most Christ-less Christmas spot in all the world...DISNEYLAND! And it was everything Christmastime is supposed to be. Giant Christmas Tree sans religious angel on top. Giant ornaments! Giant snowflakes! Giant marching wooden soldiers marching in a giant parade that crescendos with Santa Clause HO HO HOing a happy a-religious Christmas. Giant pictures of giant Christmas things you can buy for giant prices! Oh, and Mickey Mouse! Not a single nativity in sight. No baby Jesus. No wise men. The only guiding light comes from the small world ride- which is completely Christmased out. And what songs do they sing? Jingle Bells and Deck the Halls. No lyrics about falling to your knees or joying to the world because your lord has come. It's about peace in the world and celebrating togetherness through singing dolls. And we all know deep down that peace on earth and celebrating togetherness, with or without singing dolls, can't be achieved as long as people are falling to their knees and demanding others fall to their knees because the lord has come.

Jingle Jingle Jingle!

IT'S TIME TO WAGE WAR ON CHRISTMAS!

2009-11-27T15:11:00.001-08:00

I'm ready to wage War on Christmas. I like Christmas. I like the term "Christmas." I don't want to take "Christ" out of the word "Christmas" because "Happy Holidays" isn't specific enough and the sound of "Christ" sounds so round and full...such as when I exclaim, "Jesus H.M.S. CHRIST!!!" See? It's fun. And I like Christmas Trees. Mainly for the smell, but I also like the idea that Christmas trees are a human tradition older than...well, the story of Jesus. I like Santa Claus- but let's get real. Santa Claus is hardly a religious icon, aside from the very weak attempt to link him to a religion via his name. He's magical, powerful, has minions and bribes kids. And he doesn't forgive "bad kids." He just puts them on a list. Not very Christ-like. Let's get real. Christmas isn't just for christians. Christmas has evolved, you know, become more intelligent. The ideas of sharing time with family and appreciating peace and the season is the main focus now, not celebrating the birth of a made up biblical superhero. Oof...there's that word again. I wrote it a few sentences back. "Evolved." "Evolution." Sorry people who don't believe in science. But Merry Christmas anyway.

TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO DO ON MY BIRTHDAY

2009-11-24T00:16:00.000-08:00

Since today is my birthday, I figured, why not OWN it! So here is a list of things I aim to do today on my birthday. I hope it inspires everyone to do the same on their birthday.

TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO DO ON MY BIRTHDAY

1. Wake my wife up this morning by whispering a creepy falsetto rendition of "Happy Birthday to me!"

2. Drink an ounce of beer for every year I've been alive.

3. Go to Disneyland without my kids. Then take pictures and show them later.

4. Whenever a "cast member" wishes me a happy birthday, respond with "Fuck Yeah...oh ho ho fuck yeaaaah."

5. Go to the Carnation Baby Center at the end of Main Street and request my complimentary birthday breast-feeding.

6. Play my electric guitar and then kick something over- preferably something unbreakable.

7. Point out to someone that I've survived on this world longer than Jesus did, again.

8. Demand my wife jump out of a cake in her birthday law-suit. (she's a lawyer) HIGH-HAT!

9. Accuse some kid, probably one my own, of being an ungrateful whipper snapper. Because really, I had it tougher.

10. Force my wife to applaud and encourage others around us to applaud after everything I say.

LAUGHLIN.

2009-08-23T21:28:00.000-07:00

So we said goodbye to Williams, AZ and drove through Bullhead City to Laughlin Nevada. Why on earth would we go to Laughlin? Because it has the Colorado River, of course!

Honestly, there's not much to point out about Laughlin...except that every square foot of the place was crawling with old people. And it's one thing if this was a spot where old people were having fun. But nobody was having fun. Nobody was smiling or cheering or looking around with glee. All the old folks were just "there." It made me think of a pretty good slogan for Laughlin:

"Laughlin. Because you gotta do something to pass the time until you die..."

And then I thought maybe this is like Pinnochio... maybe young people go into Laughlin, but the experience turns everyone into an oxygen mask wearing, rascal driving octogenarian with a virgin daiquiri in one hand and a fistful of nickels in the other. Then again, maybe this is just where old people pass the time...until death says Peek-a-boo.

So after a fantastically repulsive lunch, we headed to the water for an hour long cruise on the Colorado. It was both informational AND fun. Both the girls were given the chance to steer the boat. Charlie kept the craft going straight as an arrow. Chase, on the other hand, took great efforts to turn the steering wheel left and right as much as she could. The boat, under her command, was zig-zagging, and our salty, booze swilled captain actually chuckled that he thought Chase was trying to run us on the rocks!

When Chase was done, Charlie asked her why she was trying to make the boat go so crazy, and Chase answered very sincerely, "THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A BIG STEERING WHEEL!"

Anyhoo, they both got a certificate for driving the boat on the Colorado River, and we happily, and sweatily, trudged back to our car and headed home.

Home is a nice place to be...until the next adventure calls.

UNATTENDED CHILDREN WILL BE USED FOR SOUP BASE

2009-08-20T00:24:00.000-07:00

The Dodge Four woke up early at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel in order to walk over to Route 66, where there was a fine Country Diner that served some pretty intimidating Huevos Rancheros and Biscuits and Gravy - as well as had this wonderful warning hanging overhead. Once stuffed like all the taxidermy that adorned every other store front in Williams, it was time to head for our train.

AHHH. But before the train, was a old western shootout. The premise: Outlaws aim to rob the tourists...and it was up to the Sheriff to prevent that with some accurately projected hot lead. The baddies went down as hard as a country pun- and we took pictures with them and their horses afterward.

After that it was ALL ABOARD! The trip from Williams to the Grand Canyon was about two hours. The train itself only went about 45 miles an hour so all the scenery was soaked in good and long. Every train car had its own tour guide of sorts, and ours was a bubbly gal from Connecticut with an accent by way of Minnesota. She had so much zeal for herself and the Grand Canyon and the train itself I was convinced she had some sort of brain damage. I know Tiffany would say that's just being cynical, and I have to admit that by the end of the trip I came to admire her, in a way, but the first few miles of the train ride I was pretty sure I was being held hostage.

The tour guide had this painted on smile and severe, buoyantly blond bangs and was U-P!!! I only saw her crack once when an old Armenian tourist was talking too loud while she was talking, and she intensely leaned down to him without losing an inch of smile and said, "I'm Sorry AM I INTERRUPTING YOUR CONVERSATION?" I highly doubt the Armenian man knew what she said, because honestly none of us had a clue we were in store for a blow by blow commentary of our trip, but she happily went back to telling us about how she loves to eat her lunch and watch the tourists and squirrels and the Grand Canyon and encouraged us to confront anyone we saw littering. Ultimately, to her credit, she realized her car was about fifty percent full of Armenian Tourists, so she graciously handed over the PA to the tour guide to ensure that everyone knew what was what with the Grand Canyon and the squirrels and confronting the litterbugs. I think it was a big moment for her.

A bit later a singing Cowboy armed with a fistful of harmonica, a pocketful of puns, and an accordion ambled into our car. He quickly became irritated at some of the older folks who were trying to get around him to get to the bathroom. Finally, he just turned to one of the passers-by and said sternly, "I'm trying to do my thing here." In fact, I think he might have cut his little show short as punishment, because I could swear I saw him in the car in front of ours a bit longer. But that's okay, because he was selling mini harmonicas for five bucks. Guess which two little girls on the train each got one? Guess... guess... go ahead... guess...

Finally the train pulled into the Grand Canyon Station. After we lathered up every mortal surface with sunblock we took our first look at the Grand Canyon.

It feels silly to try to explain how beautiful that vastness was. The sky was bursting at the seams with blue and every crag and crevice looked far away and close all at the same time. It's a similar feeling you get when you are lying under the night sky in the desert. Your brain can barely keep up with what your eyes are taking in. Ultimate beauty. Instant love. Like most naturally beautiful things, it's something that humans had no part in creating, and we can only stand there and stare, like the monkeys we all actually are, and always will be.

One of the coolest things about where we were is that there were many places that had no walls or boundaries at all. Just precipice. I think this is important and I hope this never changes no matter how many jackasses stumble off to their deaths because of it. Why? Because it's a good reminder that not everything can be human-proofed.

When Chase and I saw such a spot, we couldn't resist walking right up to the edge for a photo. Charlie wanted zero part in that nuttyness. You see that small bit behind us...those brave few inches...that's it. Past that is nothing but sky below. I told Chase that we went right to "the edge" together. Hell, everyone finds themselves at the edge at some point. Why not do it at your choosing?

It didn't take long before the girls fell in love with the local army of Tassle-eared Squirrels. And I have to say I'm not a superfan of squirrels. I think in general squirrels are the thug breed of the rodent kingdom. If they could talk I'm positive they'd be little foul-mouthed gangsters that if ever graced with opposable thumbs would quickly grow an appreciation for switchblades.

However, the Grand Canyon Clan of Squirrels, probably due to generations plentiful food, are very friendly. I even saw one of these merry creatures happily sitting on the lap of a tourist enjoying a tasty treat. Of course, you're not supposed to feed the squirrels. But then you're not supposed to swear and pick our nose in public either, but we all know how that goes.

At the gift shop I was delighted to find that they sold those nifty little keychains that had a single view of the Grand Canyon you could bring along with you wherever you go- a single viewmaster-type doodad. I bought one for each of the girls. Of all the chochky sold at the gift shop, I knew these would bring the biggest delight, and they did. The below photo was dreamed up by Charlie. Looking at the Grand Canyon while looking at the Grand Canyon...

I need to point out that we vacationed with the First Family. Here's a photo I took...

...from the AP website.

I was looking forward to running into the First Family and becoming fast friends. We'd all want to get in out of the heat and lunch together - the four girls at one table and Barack, Michelle, Tiffany and I at another. The girls would expound on Spongebob Squarepants while we'd have much Sangria...

Unfortunately, they chose to visit an area that was coincidentally closed off and guarded by the secret service- and we did not. Oh well. But hey! The Dodge Family and the Obama Family shared the same two mile radius with each other at the exact same hour of day. One day the Obama girls might even tell their grandchildren about it.

All in all our visit to the Grand Canyon was brief. Not even a full day, really. But it's funny how it doesn't take long to collect memories which will carry on for life. The first time your eyes see something. The feeling of your daughter's little hand in yours while you walk along. Bits of frayed conversation. A dog wearing a hat. The smell of your girl's hair that's been sweetened by the baking sun. Brief snippets of happiness that will be recalled and relied on for much, much longer than it took to gather them. The dimensional physics behind memories are miraculous and will never be figured out, thank goodness.

Walking away from the Grand Canyon was hard. I wanted to stay longer, with no real agenda in mind. But the train was punctual, we were warned. We boarded with only four minutes to spare before the train left the station.

The train ride back, I have to say, was very special. For some reason our enlivened tour guide started to grow on me. And a different singing cowboy came and sang Elvis standards, which always brightens my mood.

And then low and behold, the girls look out of the train car window only to see MASKED COWBOYS ON HORSEBACK WITH THEIR GUNS DRAWN!!!

THEN THE TRAIN STOPS!!!

We were being robbed. The girls excitedly clambered about in their seats, their noses pressed against the window to see where the train robbers had gone. Mom dutifully gave them each a dollar so that they could be properly robbed once our train car was boarded.

The masked gunmen came barreling in....posed for photos...and modestly robbed all kind donors...then headed to the next car. THANKFULLY THOUGH THE SHERIFF WAS IN HOT PURSUIT. He was happy to oblige all photo requests, first. He actually asked Charlie to take a picture with him, as you'll see below. But he didn't ask Chase...I'm sure she was rooting for the outlaws, anyway!

By the time the robbery was over, our journey on the great iron horse was near an end. So nice. At one point Chase came over and buried her head in Tiffany's stomach. "Good Times." she said with a hug, then she scampered back over to where Charlie was sitting. So sweet. I hope the girls remember that day even better than I do.

That night we got our kicks back on Route 66! There was yet another outlaw shootout in the streets. Before the show one of the outlaws suddenly pulled out a bullwhip and cracked it right in front of Chase, who was so excited that she was standing all by herself up ahead. When the whip broke the sound barrier about twenty people all around jumped. I might have seen a slight jump in Chase's shoulders, but I'll be damned if that little girl didn't budge at that sudden, jarring act. She held her ground, and stayed where she was.

After the last glorious and gag-filled shootout, we engorged on BBQ and listened to some great live music at the Route 66 Diner. Oh BBQ, I am your bitch!

Finally we all went back to the hotel room and after a good washing we ended up watching TV. Charlie was hoping Seinfeld was on again. She had caught the Toothbrush Episode the night before and decided she must see more...but alas..only Boston Legal was on.

Soon enough we all fell asleep. The next morning was our journey back...

BUT THE FUN WASN'T OVER, OH NO!!!

Stay tuned...

Meteor Crater

2009-08-17T22:30:00.000-07:00

Right now as I type this it is Monday night, about 10:30. A few hours ago the Dodge family returned from our weekend getaway in Arizona. We hit the Grand Canyon. I was originally planning on blogging the two nights that we were out of town, but our hotel- the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel- essentially had few amenities more modern than the Grand Canyon itself. Ok ok. The hotel did actually have wifi, but only in the hotel lobby, and I like to blog in my underwear, and those are not the sights other visitors come all the way out to Arizona to see.

We left first thing Saturday morning. I have to point out as mundane as it sounds there is a joy I get during morning departures such as this one with my family. The quick drive through McDonald's...me driving as Tiffany divies out the McMuffins and milk and tea...everyone eating and thinking about what lies down the road. Those moments are actual gems to me. So we boogied as fast as we could to magical Barstow. We arrived there the moment the outlet stores opened. That was nice. After some shopping and moseying about we all clambered back into the wagon and hit Highway 40, which runs parallel to the old Route 66. I have to admit Route 66 looks twice as fun, with its flirty hills and windy curves. But if we took 66, we'd still be on our way to Arizona...

We stopped for lunch in Kingman, AZ, at MR. D'z (apropos) route 66 diner. Charlie claims their hot dogs are the best she's ever had - EVER. And Charlie's had a lot of hot dogs in her young age, so if anyone would know it's her. We grubbed and sundaed and then hopped back in the car, because we needed to make it to THE METEOR CRATER.

Any further description of the Meteor Crater would sort of be redundant. It's a giant meteor crater! I figured once Charlie saw the city sized hole in the ground and then read all the literature explaining what caused it she'd get a little worried that more meteors could hurdle our way, and she did. When we reached the top lip of the crater the winds were whipping us from every side. Chase loved the notion that we were so high up and that the wind was making everyone teeter hither nither, to her it was high comedic adventure. Charlie not so much.

But the eye of the prize for Charlie was the gift shop. The meteor crater gift shop sells minerals and gems and all sorts of rock samples and Charlie very slowly went through everything there was for sale. (Charlie loves rocks and minerals and gems.) She even came upon fossilized dinosaur poop. I think Tiffany picked it up without first reading what it was, which made it all the funnier. No matter how many times Charlie and I explained to her it stopped being "poop" millions of years ago...she still was looking around for her Purell.

So, in the end, Charlie bought two dinos carved out of soap stone and Chase bought a bag of polished rocks. Then we turned and headed back to our stop for the night, Williams - the gateway to the Grand Canyon. Why is Williams the Gateway to the Grand Canyon even though it is sixty miles away? Because they said so.

I'm just going to pretend that I'm writing this last Saturday, so you'll have to read about what happens at the Grand Canyon tomorrow...tomorrow.

Now we come home...video added

2009-04-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

Man...it's late. I shouldn't even be up right now typing this because of how early we are having to wake up tomorrow to catch our flight back to Los Angeles. But I know once I get home I'm not going to want to do this because then my head will be on things to do in Los Angeles... so...

The reason why I had to wake up so early yesterday was because I had to get tickets to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. It's where they make our money. The tickets are free but are distributed on a first come first serve basis. The ticket office opens up at 8 am. So, naturally people begin lining up at 6 am. Well, I did my part. I pried myself out of bed and taxied myself over there...I got there at 630 am. And there were already thirty people waiting! The wait was worth it and the tour was very unique and interesting. Watching millions of dollars being printed is something you can't do every day so...

We rounded yesterday off by hitting the Smithsonian Museums of Natural History and Air and Space. What great Museums. I think both Charlie and Chase enjoyed both very much. I think they both liked the Museum of Natural History a wee bit more because of the butterfly exhibit. (See video.) However, at the Air and Space Museum they have converted the old cafeteria style commissary to a McDonald's slash Boston Market "McTreat" station. Hmmm.... McTreats... So we did what any red blooded Americans would do, we stared at some space suits and then scampered over for McDonald's ice cream and McFlurrys.

Last night was the second night we visited with Helen and her Husband Hartmut and their daughter Sophie and Helen's mother. We enjoyed every minute and I know that the girls really loved playing with Sophie.

Today we kept it pretty simple. Ford's theater and then the White House. The weather was very hot here today. We were all melting. We couldn't get in to Ford's Theater because they were preparing to do a show. That whole area, if you ask me, is the trappiest of all D.C. It seems a bit wrong to peddling toddler shirts with designs that have teddy bears with Lincoln beards in the very building that Lincoln was assassinated in. But maybe I'm just too darn sentimental. Money money money.

I'm sad to say that we ended up NOT able to get a White House tour. Our Congressman's pull just wasn't strong enough to get us in...the waiting list is six months long. But we walked around and looked from the outside as best we could. It looks quite comfortable.

We did see massive lines winding around the back block of the White House...and heard from a cab driver that Obama had decided to open up the White House to the public for today and tomorrow...but those lines were so long, and the heat was so bad here, that is just wouldn't have been worth it.

Finally, this evening we visited with Tiffany's former co-worker at the Ninth Circuit, Theo, and his wonderful family. Theo has two girls in the same orbital age as Charlie and Chase, so it was a grand old time. You'd think Charlie and Chase had never seen other kids their age before. By the end of the night Charlie was exchanging emails with her new friends.

...And now, everyone is asleep but me. I type this to the pleasant sounds of three people, who have had two very busy weeks, trying their best to recover.

Tomorrow...we come home. We miss you all and can't wait to see you.

The video will be up on Youtube shortly... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-X-ym79sM88

Washington D.C.

2009-04-16T20:59:00.000-07:00

My fellow Americans, this will be short. I need to rush off to bed because tomorrow I've gotta get up before dawn to go over to the... I'll just explain tomorrow...

But superquick...

Tiffany has fallen under the sword of the head cold, and is fighting a noble and valiant battle. Early today, though, she did have to retreat from the Capitol Building tour back to the hotel. But take heart, I think her Snottysburg Address that was made later in the afternoon was most stirring...and she should prevail victorious by at least tomorrow afternoon.

While at the Supreme Court giftshop, Chasie insisted on buying a little pewter gavel. I asked her why she liked it and what it was for. She said it's what the judges use to hit stuff with when they're angry. Awwwwwwwww. All evening she's been banging it on tables and yelling "Order! Order! Order to go!" That may very well be the next step in this great experiment we call democracy: due process and faster take out all in one amendment.

We visited Tiffany's friend Helen's new home just a few miles away from the capitol. I'm in love with it. I want to elope with the house. It's the exact house you see in your head when you think "happy childhood." (and the basement looks exactly like the one in That 70's Show!)

Finally, I don't think the videos that I've been making can be seen through the posting on facebook...so if you haven't gone over to my blog directly then you wouldn't know they were there... I think... anyway, I've also pasted my latest video on youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40EzLS5t7TI

Good night.

Washington D.C.

2009-04-15T21:58:00.001-07:00

Well, it's been two days here in our nation's capitol, and let me tell you. I'm wet. No, I'm not talking about my eyes from pride, although I am feeling a strange amount of that right now...no...IT'S RAINING ELEPHANTS AND DONKEYS OVER HERE!!! Cold and damp and deluge and plops without any fizzesses.

Yesterday we tackled the mall. The layout of everything is so smart and beautiful. The war memorials heartbreaking. I actually looked around at some nearby space and wondered if that's where the next one or two will be erected. A damn shame to even ponder that.

Yesterday marked the 144th anniversary of the assassination of Lincoln, which made visiting the Memorial all the more cool. I don't think I've ever shared this with anyone but I've always held an interest in Lincoln. If any of you want to read a total kickass book, pickup MANHUNT: the 12 Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer, by James L. Swanson. It's a brilliant and breathtaking account of what happened 144 years ago. But I digress.

Today we visited the new SPY MUSEUM. It was interesting, though maybe a bit disorganized. It claims all things in it were actual devices and techniques used by spies, but then right smack dab in the middle of the exhibit is a James Bond car. So, maybe it was all just tourist trap stuff.

After that we stopped by the National Museum of Portraits. Gorgeous. I was in awe to see so many portraits I had only seen in crummy textbooks before. The unfinished portrait of Washington. The profile portrait of Lincoln that the penny is based on. I think Charlie got a lot out of that stop.

After that we made a pass through the Museum of American History. At some point in that last fifteen years they've completely redone it. There is a very gripping exhibit on...Lincoln's life. They actually had the white towel that General Lee had carried when he arrived to negotiate the surrender of the South. I was jabbering silly when I saw that. So cool.

But honestly, aside from the Lincoln exhibit, the rest of the Museum felt very slapped together and unfinished. So much more can be done with it. There was a room maybe slightly larger than my office called "Thanks for the Memories." It had Seinfeld's shirt, the Ruby Slippers from the Wizard of Oz, Sid Caesar's hat, Oscar the Grouch and Kermit, and some sports uniforms. Really? That's all the Museum of American History has to say about the mediums it either created or perfected? Or even just about American pop culture? A bit abbreviated, no? Maybe in time improvements will be made.

Although one totally rad item they were showcasing was the actual flag that inspired THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER. After I walked through the viewing room I wanted to run back in and with a baritone voice sing "AND THE FLAG WAS STILL THERE..." but my wife saw the look in my eyes, pursed her lips and shook her head "No." I slouched my shoulders and we walked off to go look at the old steam engine exhibit.

Our last stop of the day was to the National Archives to take a peek at the Declaration of Independence and Constitution and Bill of Rights. This is what the trip has been mainly about for me. I think these three documents represent some of the greatest heights of mankind. The line to get in was forever and in the rain. Once out of the rain, the security was as thorough as in an airport. Once inside the belly of the archives all you could hear was the security guard endlessly blowing his whistling and screaming at the top of his voice at the swarms of high school kids that had been bused in to please stop acting like utter jackasses. Now, I can't speak for every teen in the world, but judging from the bus load after bus load of teenagers I've encountered so far in D.C., I really advocate just locking a person up for their entire teenage stage of life. Outside of school, just lock them in a room with their favorite things: a computer so they can share their newly discovered wit with peers, a television and a mirror. I think this would be beneficial to both the teen and the rest of the world. I think it would have made me a better person, and I've already started designing my girl's teen prisons. Frankly, I have no idea why these kids are even here to begin with. Not a single one has looked at all interested in what they are looking at or what they are doing. I'm not expecting them to be in awe...but don't they have to- at the very least- be AWARE of where they are? There are just these hordes of kids everywhere sitting on floors and flirting and screaming and posing and phoning and texting and jumping on each other's backs and pouting and hugging each other and doing everything but what I thought a person could do best after taking the trouble to get to Washington D.C.- look around! Please America, stop busing your kids to Washington! A bus full of teenagers doesn't improve any mood, environment or situation.

By the way, I was still totally geeked at seeing the old documents. They are all really faded and kept in the chambers of gas that glow green...

When Tiffany and I decided to bring the girls on this trip I immediately started trying to picture what it would be like. The one thing I never imagined was all the opportunity for great conversation with the girls that we've had. We're not forced to jam in conversation over a bath or dinner or shoehorn a talk in before bedtime or school time. We are actually talking. And Washington offers so much to talk about! This has been great. I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.

New York Fever...

2009-04-14T17:50:00.000-07:00

As fortune would have it...I got sick while in New York. Asthma came and paid me a visit and I turned into a giant, heaving, sweaty creep wherever I went...so the heaving was the only thing different from the usual. But as I type this, with the help of an absolute saint I am on the mend. Hopefully the rest of us remain healthy for our last leg of the Dodge Eastern Seaboard Tour 09...Washington D.C.

I gotta say I really want to go back to New York real super soon. There are so many other places I want to go see and so many restaurants I want to try. I love the busy environment. I found New Yorkers to be, on the whole, tons nicer than they have the reputation to be. Again, I think it’s the crammed environment. People aren’t rude here...they’re just honest. I find that refreshing. There’s just no time or space to beat around the bush with empty niceties.

The memories that will stick with me are many. I’ll never forget that the first thing Chase did when we got to Central Park was to demand a picture of herself along with a very militant statue of Che Gueverra. I wish I had that picture. Unfortunately my iphone froze up at that golden moment.

I'll never forget how eerily quiet Wallstreet was with the blocked off streets and barracaded and NYPD-guarded building entrances. Wall street seems to be in a strange state of recoil...and maybe it was my imagination but I could feel the low morale just seeping out of the buildings out onto everything around. Right across is a statue of Washington commemorating where he was sworn in. I wonder if Washington ever looked up and imagined what it all would be like in the future. Probably not.

I’ll never forget seeing the Chrysler Building at night. And the Empire State Building with its colored tiers. I loved watching Charlie's face light up along with the rest of the signs in Times Square. I'll never forget watching Chase hail a cab, totally beating me to the punch. And I'll never forget the plunging sensation in my gut every time Chase impulsively dove into a revolving door- always at the very last minute and always before we told her it was safe to go. And, of course, Lady Liberty. We were on a three hour boat tour that went completely around Manhattan when we saw the Statue of Liberty.

We had an old tour guide with a Casey Cassem-type voice narrating facts that nobody could really hear over the boat engine. Decked out in a captain’s uniform, he’d drone on and on with his yuckity yuck voice walking around the boat with his wireless microphone, but overtime someone stood up out of their folding chair to take a picture or stretch (it was a three hour boat ride) he’d walk over to the stander, turn off his microphone and become the nastiest SOB on planet. Apparently, if one person on the boat stands, then everyone on the boat will want to stand. And then nobody will be able to see- even though everything we were looking at was typically at skyscraper height. No standing. After every threat, the guide would turn his microphone back on and resume his yuckity yuck narration. By the end of the three hour tour I felt as if I just might know what it felt like to be an immigrant coming to America, from desperate flight of tyranny... laying eyes on New York Harbor for the first time, weeping with gratitude that the tour...er... voyage was over. What is that inscription on the pedestal of Lady Liberty again?

“Give me your tired tourists, your poor in pulmonary health...your huddled masses yearning to break free from angry tour guides.”

It’s something like that, I’m paraphrasing a bit...

A real quick cool note: The hotel we stayed at is right next to the United Nations Building. All the various Embassies surround it. Every morning as we set out we'd pass by a baker's dozen worth of Asian reporters with their microphones and cameras pointed right at this unmarked side door across the street. Every microphone and camera was vigilantly aimed at the door like a firing squad. Every night when we were dragging ourselves back...they'd still be there...on complete reporter red alert. Finally, last night, as we were grabbing some supplies from the convenience shop right across the street from this sight, someone came out of the door, and all the reporters and cameramen came to life, pushing and shoving and crowding and dogging the one guy coming out. I even heard a woman squeel- as if she got trampled. Well we finally learned what the hub-bub was over. The guy the reporters were waiting on? Oh nothing, he was just the representative from NORTH KOREA! World politics at work...

My last New York memory is this - as our Cabbie was pulling over in front of Penn Station to drop us off, another taxi edged in alongside in an attempt to steal our curb space. Our cabbie muttered, “Mutherfucker” and lurched our cab forward to cut the other taxi off. Our cab’s side mirror knocked the other cab’s mirror. Our guy won the curb space. Our cabbie then jumped out of his cab and started yelling at the other cabbie, who ended up stopping right behind us. The yelling continued as our cabbie unloaded our luggage and very pleasantly thanked us for the fare. As we walked away I heard the other cabbie yell to our cabbie, “I’ll have your head!!!” Ah, New York. I’m going to miss you.

New York oooOOOOOHHHOOoooo

2009-04-12T20:15:00.000-07:00

Alright. So I didn't post yesterday because New York nearly broke me in half. And yesterday was only a half day because the train didn't get in until about mid-day anyway. But I was so exhausted that I was nearly feverish by the time we got back to the hotel. Yesterday we trained into NYC. And the weather was miserable. Rainy. Cold. Windy. Really cold. Really windy. As we were walking around we were looking at all the quaint locals with their fashionable rain shoes on of various designs. Soon enough we realized that it's not fashion as much as a necessity because the streets here are nothing but one puddle after another. Chase and Charlie's shoes got wet about ten minutes into walking around. We needed to get Chase some new shoes anyway because we discovered that she had a hole in one of her shoes. IN THE SOLE. Not at a seam or where some weak stitching gave way. But right through the rubber on the bottom of her shoe...you know... the part that is the last to wear out. We had walked Chase around Boston so much we wore out her shoes. All the pleas to be carried and sobs about sore legs echoed through our minds. Then Tiffany and I laughed, hi-fived, and took Chasie to Kmart to buy her some fashionable New York shoes. You can catch them in the video and photos. She's quite proud of them.

We also caught a show yesterday called Dear Edwina. It was off Broadway. Really off. But it was a musical for kids and Charlie and Chase ate it up. They had a grand old time.

After that we found ourselves in the village, and since i could no longer feel my head because of the cold I decided to get a knit cap from one of those guys with the tables on the sidewalk.

"How much for the grey one?"

"Seven dollars."

"Seven dollars? I've got five."

"Okay six."

I made a very unpleasant face in reaction to this, then demanded, "Okay!"

I drove a really hard bargain.

After my head was warm we warmed our bellies first with fries at Pommes Frites. I hope that's how you spell it because I'm not checking it now. Hmmm. If you've never eaten there you should give it a try. There were two chairs right near the front door so we plopped the girls in them and everyone in line watched the two of them eat as they waited to make their order.

After Pommes Frites, we hit a chocolate restaurant called Max Brenner. This place specializes in everything chocolate and I'll tell you now, it's the best chocolate I've ever had.

The girls slurped up their fancy hot chocolates and wanted more...but it was time to go.

As we walked back to the hotel Charlie asked me, "Hey Dad, do you know what French kissing is?"

"Hmmm. Kind of... what is it?"

"It's where you kiss but you rub tongues together! They call it French kissing, but I don't think the French invented it."

"Where did you hear about it?"

"I was looking up idioms at www.idioms.com and that was one of them."

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah."

Who said New York isn't full of educational surprises.

So last night I knocked out really hard. I think if I had stayed up I'd have gotten sick. The wind here- the frigid wind here seems to be royally kicking my ass.

Anyhoo, so today we woke up...We had the best bagels and lox I've ever had in my life at Tal Bagels on 57th and 1st. Oh man. Then it was time to hit Central Park.

There isn't a way to take a bad picture in Central Park. I'm still trying to wrap my head around how beautiful that place was. And today being Easter Sunday...there were tons of people out, which to me made it even better.

We hit the playground. The girls couldn't stop climbing all of the rocks jutting out of...well, everywhere.... we went to the fountain... saw the Alice in Wonderland statue...and then went to Strawberry Fields. I have to say that Strawberry Fields is a bit of a sham tribute to John Lennon. There are signs everywhere demanding that it is a quiet area and music is not allowed to be played. Seems to be a counter intuitive tribute to one of the world's greatest song makers. But there were tons of crowds to take pictures in front of the tile memorial that reads "Imagine." This also seemed a bit silly. I know if Lennon could give an opinion on it he'd tell everyone that if we really wanted to pay tribute to what he was about (or tried to be about) then we should really tackle the world's problems. Preach Preach Preach.

After we were finished with Central Park we mosied on over to the Museum of Natural History. Having been there, I can tell you for certain the movie was a complete fabrication.

Finally we hit Times Square..whoa! What a tourist trap...but we had fun, anyway!

Alright. Here's the latest videologue and I hope I have enough energy for further entries... this has not been spellchecked...there just isn't any time...

Boston...

2009-04-10T20:36:00.000-07:00

Well...as I write this Charlie, Chase and Tiffany are sleeping deep after another day of hoofing it all over Boston. First, we woke up early enough to go to Boston's Chinatown - which is funny because it practically is a single street. But we Dim Sum'd at Empire Pavilion and it was good. The place itself looked like it must have been an old theater, because it had massively high ceilings and all sorts of ornate decorations everywhere. Let me tell you, the food was fresh and scrumptagious. You may not have guessed it, but Boston Dim Sum is indeed as good as Dim Sum back home. But it just hit me, they didn't offer chicken's feet. Chicken's feet are my favorite Dim Sum dish!

We had drummed up a massive morning appetite because yesterday we went out to Cambridge and took a stroll through Harvard. I have to confess it didn't really mean much to me as we were walking through. The Harvard Natural History museum was impressive in its collection of taxidermy. We saw a lion hanging out in the same glass case as a bear and a monkey. You don't really see that in a museum nowadays.

Here are the girls with the timeless Harvard Water Pump.

Later we met our old high school debate pal Jong and his lovely wife and two boys for dinner. After dinner Jong took us back over to campus and gave us some Harvard history and filled us with factoids that brought the campus alive. He pointed out where Kennedy dormed- which is also where he himself dormed. He told us about some of the architecture of the school. He took us to various corners of the campus and really made it all mean something. Harvard is very old and is very aware of its age. I can just picture a youthful Jong now, trudging through the frosty morning to one of his classes...the world his Boston Harbor Oyster, rubbing Mr. Harvard's shoe (a statue that is widely known to not actually be of Mr. Harvard at all) for good luck for a test coming up that afternoon- a custom students allegedly do on a regular basis. I myself would be on my knees in front of the statue crying in disbelief that I got into Harvard to begin with. I would be wailing and my nose would be runny and frozen on my quivering lip and I'd be pleading with the statue to please oh please come to life and take the test for me, because there is no possible way that I could pass ANY test offered at Harvard. I guess it's a good thing, then, that I decided to never even apply...

I must add here a special "thank you" to Jong and his family for taking the time to visit with us - especially on a weeknight - and on top of that Jong drove us back to our hotel...and gave us a bonus tour along the way. (He drove us by John Kerry's house.) Thanks guys. I really really wanted to post a picture of everyone right here but we took it on Charlie's camera and Charlie's camera has decided it isn't going to talk to my computer on this trip. I'm sorry I can't share that photo, but just imagine my family with four of the coolest people in the world, and that will do the trick.

So this morning after Dim Sum the family tackled the the New England Aquarium. You will see much of what we saw on the little video offered below. It was a beautiful aquarium but quite busy and crowded. My guess is that since it is Good Friday many people, knowing that fish was for dinner, really wanted to work up an appetite by coming to the aquarium. I myself had prime rib for dinner.

After the aquarium we hit the children's museum. The girls jumped and climbed and crawled and pumped and smacked and bubbled and washed and floated and looked and did many other verbs that kids love to do there. But this is the moment I will treasure always- and it took place right outside of the children's museum.

This photo was taken in front of the spot where the Boston Tea Party Happened! Right there. Behind us! I can't tell you how stoked I was at this, because I think the Boston Tea Party was one of the greatest packages of rebellion and humor ever delivered by mankind - and to me it was the first truly "American" act the colonists conducted.

All of this made us very hungry for lunch so we ate at a place called The Barking Crab. I realize that the restaurant's name sounds like the last thing you'd ever want a doctor to tell you you've contracted, but The Barking Crab had tons of fresh seafood of every variety. It was rustic and salty in atmosphere and only the women's restroom was working, and the door didn't lock. So I'd like to apologize now to the woman I "interrupted." It wasn't personal, I promise. But your panicked eyes peering over the stall door will haunt me for days.

I myself ordered a total of two pounds of every kind of crab that is currently in season. Tiffany ordered a lobster roll. This is what a lobster roll looks like. Take that, fast food!

Tiffany put it in her tummy and was happy. All four of us consumed the crab and laughed at how full we were.

After we came back to the hotel for a quick rest, we went back to Faneuil Hall for one last time, and supped some Yankee Food at Durgen Park. Then, after buying some tasty dessert treats, we said our goodbyes to one hell of a great town. Great men and moments seem to be drawn to Boston. From the witch trials to the Revolutionary War to Abolition to Colonel Robert Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Infantry to John Kennedy to almost NASA and John Kerry. Very few cities in this country, even in the world, can boast so many layers of history.

Tomorrow. To NYC.

Do you know what Freedom is?

2009-04-09T21:28:00.001-07:00

I've just come back upstairs from my new most favorite spot on the entire planet. It's a bar in the hotel called THE LAST HURRAH. This is the second night that I've enjoyed a stay at the Last Hurrah and I need to share it with whoever is reading this. The Last Hurrah is a man's kind of bar. You won't find a single person in there sporting a sideways Mossimo baseball cap. You won't find anyone in there at all that has shown up to simply "be seen." I think if you ordered a Red Bull and Vodka you'd be kicked out. No,the patrons of the Last Hurrah have shown up to drink. And I love each and every one of them while I sit at the bar. And that's just the patrons...

The carpets are dark. The chairs are of an even darker molasses leather. Everything is low lit and comfortable. Along with your drink you are served a bowl of warmed up mixed nuts. And music? Nothing comes over the speakers that is newer than Frank Sinatra. NOTHING.

The man behind the bar looks just like Mo from The Simpsons.

And what's this bartender's name? Joe. I kid you not. Aside from the slight difference in name and lack of a bow tie and apron, Mo and Joe are twins. Same hair. Same voice. Same question-mark posture. Here, I snuck a photo of him on my iphone...

Right? Right? You see what I mean? Look at the back of that head. The similarities are uncanny.

Now, Joe is the boss of that bar. There is another bartender operating back there with Joe. He's bald and has jagged sea cliffs for cheeks and looks like he's just dying to lean into your face and say "I'm tellin' you, that kid's got the shinin'!" But that bartender is nothing but a lowly lieutenant. Every drink has to go through Joe- even if the other bartender makes it. Joe has to approve. You want an Old Fashioned? Joe knows you want it. Did the lady down in the corner ask for a Gimlet? Yes she did, and Joe knows how she likes it. Did the old guy sitting in the middle of the bar just fall asleep while his drinking buddy went to bathroom? Yes. But that's okay, because Joe knows he'll wake up once his pal returns.

Last night an older guy comes in to the bar. Joe doesn't even ask what he wants, he just starts making it. The guy says, "Hey Joe! I guess it's the Holy week here in Boston, huh?" Joe replies, "Yep. The start of Red Sox season and oh yeah, Easter." A little while later the guy asks Joe, "Hey Joe, this week the Jews got Passover, the Christians got Easter...but what do the Muslims got?" Without missing a beat Joe looks up from the highball glass he was polishing and he says, "They got Obama! Heh heh heh!" Now, there are many ways to take that comment. I elected to take it with a sip of my ten year-old on the rocks.

Now, earlier today, the family took a walking tour of THE FREEDOM TRAIL!!!! WHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Ahem. The Freedom trail essentially covers all of Boston's historical basics. We had a tour guide that dressed in allegedly accurate American Revolution historical garb. But I'm not writing a dissertation here so I'll just throw one suggestion out to you...if you think you know truly who the Sons of Liberty were and what how the American Revolution unfolded...do yourself a favor and look further into it. The Sons of Liberty were far from Gods. They were men with ambition, and I think that has been left out of the story of the Revolutionary War history lesson that has been that was taught to us all. I think this is a shame because this is the aspect that makes the story of American particularly compelling.

On a final note, Tiffany wanted me to note my error in the previous post where I cited our hotel as the Omni Peterson. Our hotel is actually called the Omni Parker, and this is the hotel that invented the Boston Cream pie.

Hmmm Whiskey..

Greetings from Bean Town

2009-04-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting here in the Lobby of the Omni Peterson Hotel in Boston...one of the oldest hotels in Boston so they say. I've fought the noble fight to get logged on to the internet. When I called the front desk to ask if they had wireless they said they only had a hard connection to the internet in the room...all you have to do is connect from the phone to your computer. But there was no cable to perform such a task. However, they assured, wireless is available in the lobby. So this is where I am. In the lobby...and it seems that the hotel's wireless is very finicky with Safari. Pooh Pooh. Pooh. But after sticking it out I'm on. And I swear the moment my internet blipped on I overheard a guy at the front desk tell another hotel patron that the wire you would use to connect your computer to the phone is actually in a black bag in the closet. IN THE CLOSET! Oh well... here I am. Tip tapping away at 11:30 East Coast crime...I mean time.

A few meals over twenty four hours from our arrival in Boston and all I can say is, "Boston, I freaking love ya! You ah wicked cool!" Last night on our first venture out into the bean streets - after the girls delighted in taking on the hotel's revolving doors - the first thing that hit me was the steam snaking out of the manholes in the streets. I've never seen that before. Call me a rube, I don't care. The next thing that hit me...and I mean milliseconds after noticing the steam...WAS THE UNHOLY COLD!!! Oh my God it is cold. I mean I knew what the temperature was going to be cold but man oh man. Cold cold cold cold it was. It is. I immediately lost all sensation in my face. The only way I still knew my eyes still worked was from the tears welling up but quickly thickening with frost. And it isn't even snowing. It's just cold. But I gotta tell you all. I love it.

So after the girls, the wife and I all stopped standing on the sidewalk and screaming our lungs out from the cold we headed to the Northern part of town where the Italian restaurants are. So delicious. I haven't had Italian that good since I was in Berlin. That might sound odd but those of you who have occassioned themselves in Berlin will know what I'm talking about. After that we hit MIKES just down the block. Hey... You... You like pastries and stuff? Well, Mike's has got it all. Take a look at these freakin' lamb confections.

What these things are I can't tell you. But I was again like a slack-jawed Rube looking like he hadn't seen anything made out of sugar and flour before. But then we came across these bad boys

Do you see what these suckers are called? WHOOPIE PIES! I couldn't handle it. I started to do a "Footloose" dance right there in the store! My enthusiasm was unstoppable. But I must confess I was not brave enough to try a whoopie pie. I am, after all, just a man. Maybe some day. Just not now. Instead I bought a canoli...and kept yabbering the Godfather quote over and over again until Tiffany threatened to divorce me. (Footnote:Whoopie Pie will ultimately become the annoying nickname for someone I know...I just haven't decided for who yet. I just can't help it. It's how I'm built.)

Today the family took the Boston Duck Tour. For those of you that don't know what a Duck Tour is let me fill you in. A Duck Tour is where you get driven around in this big o'le amphibious bus for a spell get told what is what around town, then for the grand finale the bus goes right into the Charles river and floats around...ON PURPOSE. So we were enjoying the lovely Duck Tour and then I looked up and saw who was driving

That's Charlie! Was this a mutiny?! How'd she take over the craft?! I think I passed out because when I next look up I saw someone else driving.. That's...that's CHASE! My underage daughters had somehow managed to overtake the tour and cruise the amphibious craft around the Charles river. Alright, maybe it's because they were asked. I'd be lying if I wrote that I wasn't incredibly jealous. Really jealous. I mean, I didn't speak to the girls for a good ten minutes or so. But then the driver passed out Neco Wafers (because they are made in Boston) and I came around and forgave them.

"Hey...how you doin'?" This guy started walking along side me in Boston Common.

The Dodge unit was on their way to see the Duck statues in the Garden across the way. "I'm alright." How are you?" This guy looked me up and down. "Where you from?"

"I'm from LA."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's great. That's really great."

"It's cold here."

"Well, LA...both places have great weather."

Then the guy stumbled off. He was a bit drunk. But see? Even the drunk folks here are nice. So far everyone actually has been really nice. And I think maybe it's because Boston is just so small. I mean for the first hundred years of it's existence the burial grounds customarily piled bodies on top of each other. So everything is intimate. People expect to have to interact with one another. And when it's expected, people are prepared to "deal." And I actually think that fosters friendliness. How those dead piled high feel about it, who knows. BUT IT'S SO COLD HERE I'D DOUBT IF THEY ARE COMPLAINING!!!"

I'd like to leave you with two final pictures and a little video. The last two pictures are of Charlie and Chase with Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings. Four days ago one of the ducklings got stolen. As you'll see in the first photo of the little quackers the second to the last duckling was the one that's been duck-napped...so Chase obligingly filled in. (Please note for realism I saw that she purposely fitted her feet over the two metal holes left from the duckling statue that was pulled from the ground.

New Look, Same Great Family!

2009-01-28T23:05:00.001-08:00

So I am relieved to say that we are "fin" with the renovations. The tribe has migrated back to their original grazing grounds and things are mostly tidied up. Here are some before and after pho'ohs.

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

I hope most of you can come and see it in person. Most of you.

Refugees

2009-01-07T11:21:00.000-08:00

So we've been staying down at La Residencia de Geoyce now for days, and although we've been treated like the royal guests I'm sure we appear to be...the basement is taking on a sort of refugee camp feel. Don't get me wrong. It's very comfortable. The night brings on this chill only a room below ground level can provide...and it's actually very nice, but four people to one room over an expanse of time seems to bring the same vibe no matter where in the world it happens.

The house is coming along...Little Lamb has just about made it look as destroyed as possible. No more popcorn. Dust and wall crumbs everywhere. Things wrapped in corners. I pay a nightly visit to make my list of the small things I need to make sure Little Lamb is mindful of. Tonight, though...I paint!

My first target is the Parent's room. Today during lunch I'm grabbing some primer and a gallon of PEPPER SPICE 250F-6. Their room once had wallpaper on it, which gave it a sort of drug rehab dorm room look. I want to make their room look like a place grown-ups are. Class it up with a dash of Pepper Spice.

I'm not sure if Joyce and George are sick of us yet. Baby Tyler has not yet popped onto the scene...which is a damn shame. Little stinker. One real joy is chumming around with Booty.

This is the look this beast has every moment of the day. This still photo is about as active as he gets as well...just constantly giving you "the eye." And have I mentioned his snoring? When Booty falls asleep it sounds like a car with a transmission problem. And you can hear it everywhere in the house...even the basement. Ultimately, the wee hours become a symphony of Booty, Charlie and Chase...and I'm sure myself...all sounding like angry chainsaws about to cut down the neighborhood. Good dog, Booty.

Transients

2009-01-03T13:21:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here eating Guacamole that my bro-in-law George deftly made from a gaggle of over-ripe avocados that travelled with us from our house to...his house. This is day three of living in George and Joyce's basement. Basement paints the wrong picture. Subterranean room is more accurate I suppose. So why is the Dodge Clan all sleeping in one room on two mattresses for twelve days?

Two words: Ceiling and Floor.

It was time to scrape all that nightmarish popcorn off the ceiling and replace our carpet - which might have been issued by the Ford Administration - with some wood flooring. Now, don't get me wrong. I love popcorn ceilings, in the right environment. I spent my entire childhood lying on the floor of my living room, day dreaming while staring up at my Grandmother's glitter accented popcorn ceiling. But popcorn just doesn't feel right in our place. So we wanted it off, and then the natural question was begged, "Since we're doing our ceiling...maybe we should do our floor?" So we've hired our usual fix-it guy gunslinger for the task. In Chinese, he goes by the name "Little Lamb." Little Lamb gave us a handsome quote and we couldn't say no. We shoved everything we own into our bathrooms and garage and the folks went off to stay with some friends while we moved into George and Joyce's. Just close your eyes and imagine Cousin Eddie and his kin in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and you know what it looked like when we pulled up.

This ordeal has been like moving out without moving out. We had to pack EVERYTHING. Closets. Furniture. Under the furniture. All the kid's toys. All of them. ALLLLLL of them. This ordeal really made me appreciate the concept of throwing stuff away. When we finally unpack everything that is exactly what we're going to do. Half of the stuff we own will not make it out of the boxes and bags. I promise.

Hmmm. Guacamole....

So here we are under the roof of my generous Brother-in-law and Sister-in-law. And here's the kicker: Joyce is about to give birth any day. So soon we will all be humbly living together in the presence of our family's newest member. Very very exciting.

Cocoa

2008-12-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

Somewhere around fifteen years ago a young man moved into a house with his brother. The idea was to share the rent. The brother, inspired by this exciting new development, decided that this house needed a dog. The brother went to someone who bred Chow Chows on a farm, and bought a puppy for a modest discount – for there were no breeding papers.

The puppy was well under twelve inches total from her chocolate nose to her poopy little tail. Her fur was softer than any plush toy ever made, and was the warm color of Coco Butter. Her ears pointed forward with unending curiosity and her eyes were like little dark, honest glass buttons, framed by unusually long eyelashes set deep into her furry face.

The man’s nephew named the puppy Cocoa.

A point needs to be made here that the man hated the name “Cocoa” because it reminded him of the German Shepherd Husky the neighbors had where he grew up. That dog barked all night, would knock over anyone in his orbit and nip whenever he had a chance. That dog was generally, all in all, a pretty damned unpleasant experience. No, to the man, this little fur ball should carry the name Bernadette. He didn’t know why, but to him, she looked like a “Bernadette.” But the man kept the name Cocoa because he loved his nephew dearly, and enjoyed the pride the nephew felt for giving the pooch her name.

As luck would have it, in a swirl of chaos, the brother moved out nearly as fast as he moved in - which was often the brother’s way. The man found himself standing in the living room of this house, looking down at this creamy little poof happily panting at his feet. Cocoa would now be his.

Very quickly the man found out that to have a puppy as a house mate was not an easy endeavor – especially when gone from the house for fourteen hours a day. Countless times the man would return home exhausted in the a.m. hours to find shredded shoes or a completely destroyed couch or the vast expanse of the white tiled living room floor peppered with tiny sooty paw prints…which ultimately led the man, often heaving with rage, to one completely blackened puppy looking up at him happily, as if trying to say, “Look! I found the fireplace!” The puppy would watch half-guiltily as the man swore a blue streak while the precious hours meant for sleep were spent mopping and cleaning and throwing destroyed items away. But the man never thought of giving Cocoa up. Not even once. For the man had fallen in love with the animal. In fact, they both found that they needed each other. Many more hours meant for sleep were spent wrestling around, playing tug of war, and conducting general human/canine mayhem. "Cocoa" wasn't such a bad name afterall. Fate had brought the two together for better and worse. It became the man’s resolve to keep them together no matter what fate had in store next.

When the time came for the man to move he faced quite a dilemma. He could only afford to rent bachelor style apartments where there was no room for animals of any kind. Over the next few years, with the help of his girlfriend, the man managed to convince landlords that the dog would only be spending nights in the apartment, during the day the dog would be elsewhere. What kind of dog? Oh, you know…not really sure…mixed breed, maybe…who knows? With some effective fudging, the landlords usually agreed.

And where did Cocoa go during the day? Over to the girlfriend’s house. Now, never in the girlfriend’s life had she been allowed to have a pet. Her father had refused all of those years because he had too many heartbreaking memories of dogs from his own childhood that had been poisoned by enemies back on the rough streets of Taizhong. So Cocoa’s arrival was something very new to that household. Every day, the man would drop Cocoa off at the girlfriend’s house, where she would play in the small backyard, chase possums that would skitter across the fence, and be fed dried squid and cupped handfuls of sweetened coffee by the girlfriend’s father. Within the flutter of a heartbeat, Cocoa became not just the man’s dog, but the family’s dog as well.

Soon, the man and the girlfriend got married and the man moved into an even bigger house with her and her family. Daily, even more relatives would come over to visit the grandparents, and ultimately, dote on Cocoa.

On car trips, Cocoa now had to sit in the back seat. Before, she was ever the unqualified co-pilot. At drive-thrus Cocoa would give the window attendant a sound piece of her mind. At least until the bag of food was handed over. But now the wife sat shotgun, and Cocoa happily sat in the backseat, leaning against the grain of every corner the car took. The three took several small road trips. To the beach. To the snow. And Cocoa was glad to be on board for anything.

Cocoa grew fast. Her poofy fur turned into a royal lion’s mane. However her eyes remained kind and her nose adopted the long angles that belonged to a golden retriever. Suspicions started to be raised that maybe this dog wasn’t a purebred after all. But it didn’t matter. Because honestly, who is a purebred these days? And who’d want to be, for that matter?

Sometimes the wife would crouch in front of Cocoa while she slept, and would playfully press her paws to see how much Cocoa would endure before withdrawing them into her chest. Giggles would erupt. Cocoa sometimes would get up and leave in a sleepy huff, but would always come back later for a good scratch she knew was owed to her.

Cocoa genuinely enjoyed the company of all but three people on this entire planet. They know who they are. She had only drawn blood from one other animal – a beagle whose owner encouraged it to stick its head through Cocoa's fence to “make a new friend.” The beagle lost a bite-shaped portion of its ear. Cocoa instantly regretted the instinct that overcame her. The beagle instantly regretted listening to its master.

Cocoa was untrained and strong. On walks, she would pull and dart from side to side as if she were dodging bullets. And when she found a good place to sniff, she’d throw all her weight against the leash in the most infuriating fashion, and would not budge until what was sniffed was sufficiently snuffed.

And then there were baths. Many groomers flat out refused to groom Cocoa just for the plain fact that she was a Chow. This left the burdon of cleanliness to the man. Baths were sudsy wrestling sessions. When Cocoa finally would succumb, she'd often take tiny subtle steps further and further away from the hose, just to see how far she could get. After a well-fought bath, Cocoa would find the dirtiest spot in the yard, flop on her back and roll around- all the while groaning as deep as she could from the back of her throat, as if trying her best to show the man that any bath could easily be undone.

A few years passed and the family grew. The man and his wife had a baby girl. And then another. Cocoa found herself now riding in the back part of a station wagon- behind the back seats. But as any dog knows, it doesn’t matter how you get to the park, just as long as you get to the park.

Although the two kids took significant focus away from the now middle-aged fur ball, there were plenty of family members to go around. It was always a treat when the wife’s father would take Cocoa out for a brisk morning walk. The first born baby girl was fascinated by Cocoa, who must have resembled to her a large walking stuffed animal. So much so that first born’s first word was “Cocoa.”

The timing was slightly off for Cocoa’s relationship with the children. By the time they were old enough to play all rough-and-tumble, Cocoa wasn’t very interested. Sleep became the priority, no matter how hard the second born girl playfully yelled at her to obey. However, it must be said that she never turned down a good childish scratch or two or three or four treats. Or five treats.

Cocoa had only been to the emergency room twice. Once, for inhaling a foxtail up her nose. The other…for gas. The wife's sister saw her stretching in an odd fashion out in the yard after a big meal and became convinced she must have swallowed some nails. After a barium flow, the X-ray showed an empty pocket in her intestines. The E.R. vet pointed at it with his pen and flatly said, "Gas." Other than that, Cocoa was generally in fantastic health.

But as Cocoa grew older she was progressively diagnosed with Vestibular Disease – which made her head tilt to such a degree she couldn’t walk straight , OCD- yeah OCD, Hypothyroidism, chronic watery eyes, chronic Otitis – which means ear infections – warts, occasional surprise bouts of extreme diarrhea, Canine Eczema and Arthritis. The one-time puppy was growing into a blend of Howard Hughes and Betty Davis after her ninth stroke.

Fifteen birthdays. Fifteen years of friendship. Fifteen years worth of declaring with eager yelps that the man had come home from work. And during that fifteenth year, Cocoa’s strong frame started to betray her. The Arthritis became stronger. Cocoa grimaced when sitting down or getting up- with each task taking minutes instead of seconds. The medicine progressed from a daily pill to a bi-weekly shot in the leg to nothing…because nothing more could help. Her senses grew thick with the fog of old age- so dulled that she would sleep through squadrons of unforgiving summertime flies laying eggs around her moist eyes. All Cocoa knew was that she liked to eat. But everything else came and went with the moment. Her eyes grew milky with cataracts. Her hearing totally gone. Her bones jutted out underneath her skin. Her weight dropped from 70 pounds to 38 pounds. The days were growing too long and too tough for the old dog…

Over thanksgiving weekend each member of the family paid Cocoa a special visit, each giving her the most delectable of treats: fried chicken, french fries… And each giving her a good scratch and a most sincere, “Good Dog.” In fact, the man found himself remarking that never had he seen an animal gain such affection from so many people like Cocoa had.

On December 1st, the man and his wife arose from bed with a direct purpose for that day. After breakfast, the two girls each gave the old dog a hug, and were taken to school. The man pulled six sausage patties from the wrapping and cooked them fresh. And the man and his wife took Cocoa to the park. Because it doesn’t matter how you get to the park…

The morning was spent walking along the grass, sniffing as much as possible, and enjoying the sausage patties. At one point a woman came by with a great fluffy dog. She took a look at Cocoa and stopped in her tracks.

“WOW what kind of dog is that?”

“Chow…mixed…we think.”

“Mine, too! How old?”

“Fifteen.”

“Wow, I hope my dog is lucky enough to live to fifteen! Well, I hope your dog lives for a long time! Bye!”

The man and his wife helped Cocoa along the grass of the park as she struggled to sniff and walk and keep her balance. She’d stop every now and then, maybe out of exhaustion, maybe to let the sun warm her bones. After some time they found a good shady spot where two woodpeckers were working hard on a palm tree, and Cocoa enjoyed all but the last sausage patty.

Later, while the wife went to get the doctor, Cocoa ate the last sausage patty in the back of the station wagon in the parking lot of the animal hospital. The man made a promise that Cocoa would never have to be afraid of a moment like this, so they were going to stay right there in the car and the doctor would have to come out to her. And as the man watched Cocoa eat the last bit of sausage, he felt tight with how much he loved her. This was an animal that he used to hold in the crook of his arm. She fit so perfectly when she was small. And now, she was old. And she lay in his arms once more.

The next few moments were ones that only the man, his wife, and their dog could share. Words would serve so poorly…

After the man threw Cocoa’s harness away in the nearby dumpster he looked down at the dog's name on the I.D. tag that he decided to keep. "Cocoa." It became the perfect name for her. He jammed the I.D. tag into his pocket and got into the car. As he and his wife drove off, he felt something he didn’t expect. Happiness. Because he knew that Cocoa had something that any animal in this world is very lucky to get: a LIFE. And really, she had that.

Cocoa Dodge lived. Is there any sweeter thought?

BITTER PINEAPPLE

2008-09-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

So we are back from Hawaii. Exit Funtopia. Enter...sigh...wherever. I feel a bit like Woody Allen in Annie Hall in that scene where he's failing horribly at recreating a "spontaneous moment" involving runaway lobsters...Yesterday I actually made my wife go out and buy me a pineapple at Pavillions. All they had was a Del Monte Pineapple. And it is bitter.

Dare I even attempt a homemade Mai Tai?

I'm sitting here in my office, lips puckered and determined to finish my zip lock bag of punishment for trying to keep the Aloha alive within. I should just accept the fact that I'm not in Hawaii any longer.

But on the bright side today was Charlie Dodge's first day of the third grade. New shoes. New lunchbox. New teacher. Charlie was very upbeat this morning, humming while brushing her teeth, and constantly worried that her parents were going to make her late for her first day. By the way, Charlie actually lost a tooth while in the air traveling back home from Oahu...how many kids can put that on their resume?

Chase was able to sleep in late this morning. She begins year two of preschool next week. This year Chase moves on to the "older classroom." I'm not exactly sure what that means but if it is anything like the mob, she will now be receiving "tributes" from the younger class members.

So now Fall is officially upon us. Do they call it "Fall" because that's what happens to your cheerfulness after a summer vacation (And the studio audience goes "AWWWWWW.")

So now I must return back to this so called "pineapple."

Mahalo.

Aloha Oahu

2008-09-02T01:50:00.001-07:00

Alright...remember how I said we were going to do nothing but relax? Boy did we veer away from that first thing in the morning. Manoa Falls had been haunting us since we got here. We had planned on hiking it early on, but kept bumping it back. So we decided to do it today. Simple easy hike, right? That's what all the books said. That's what all the folks who recommended it to me said. "Just know you might get a little muddy." Hmmm.

Now, I dunno what is wrong with us. Really, it must be something that's wrong with us. Because this was supposed to be a moderate hike to a lovely waterfall. Instead it turned into a jungle slog. Honestly, from the moment we passed a sign that read "Hike at your own risk...the waters and mud may contain spiracolibacusblahblahblah..." I felt Tiffany clench. I didn't see it. It's not something you could see. But I knew. It's almost like a "force" that she emits outward that wraps around your soul. I know she wanted to just turn and run...screaming out of the jungle with the hope that the very sound waves could stave off the germs until she could get to the nearest Lysol bath. But Tiffany was such a good sport. She just shot me a look and said in a very pleasant, even tone throughout the hike, "Okay...don't touch anything." I have to admit, I was saying it a lot, too.

UP we went. But don't let this photo...taken near the parking lot...fool you. THIS HIKE WAS A HUMP IN THE JUNGLE!!! Everyone forgot to tell us that small detail. UP UP UP. And not just quaint little switchbacks in a sun drenched crater like we had at Diamond head. There were parts where the upward trail was nothing more than piles of rocks slicked with mud, jungle dew and what I'm sure Tiffany imagined as pure death. Pushing Charlie up with one hand and pulling Chase up with another wrought such a sweat from me that I was pretty certain "Manoa Falls" was a reference to how much sweat one produces while conducting this trudge. We were speechless. Stuttering and slobbering with exhaustion.

And then a tiny little dog passed us. And then a family with a toddler passed us. And then a woman with a cane passed us coming back down. And then the group that started out the same time as we did passed us on their way back down. I was so shamed I wouldn't have been surprised had a person in a wheelchair popped a wheelie off of some muddy ledge and flipped us the double bird.

But we made it. And we looked. There were cables that kept us about twenty feet from the actual body of water with a sign explaining why being due to "A rock avalanche that happened in 2002." And we took our photo. Aren't we fit to be keen?

And then we came down. Careful steps, of course. I was nagging everyone not to slip...take their time...be careful...I even told the wife it would be bad if she slipped and twisted her ankle because it would suck to wait for help in this steamy, muddy jungle. Even though I don't think I came off smug, in hindsight it might have come off as a "Careful, little lady." type thing.

For what happened?

About two minutes from completing the hike...already past the most treacherous of rocky obstacles...I totally ate shit, landed on my ass, and took Chase to her ass along with me. Chase, thank goodness, was totally fine- if not a little miffed. From that point on she wanted to hold Mommy's hand. But in the process I managed to maybe hyper extend my big toe or something. Anyway...now I'm hobbling. It's not purple or anything...but it hurts and I'm lame in every definition and cultural utilage of the word.

So we hosed off all the infested mud and lunched and took it easy poolside...WHAT WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING FROM THE MOMENT WE WOKE UP. Charlie really really really wanted one last stab at the beach...this time with the boogey board. I acquiesced. We loped over to the beach and had a bitchin' time. Charlie even caught a wave on the board and rode it to the shore. We body surfed...we played in the waves. And I had my phone in this waterproof pouch that "THE NAVY SEALS USE" to keep my cellphone in. Well, I guess playing in Waikiki waves is more rigorous that doing whatever Navy SEALS do...because the pouch flooded and my sad little phone is over. OVER! If anyone is trying to call me, call my wife.

But a lovely seaside dinner at the Hula Cafe made me quickly forget my toe and my stupid little phone. And I thought to myself. Damn. I haven't even left but I feel the pull to come back. Soon.

So we arrive back to Los Angeles Tuesday. Lucky you. We've missed you all and look forword to repeating stories of our experiences over and over and over again until you all start rolling your eyes while finishing our stories for us.

Mahalo.

105.1 K-I-N-E...The Hawaiian Station...a blowhole under renovation.

2008-09-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

Cousins,

Today was the day we invaded Hanauma Bay. Figuring the girls were having too much fun, I decided to wake them up at 6am this morning. What that meant for me was...I had to wake up at 5:30. I set a wake up call...then asked for a reminder call fifteen minutes later...then set my phone...and guess what...I managed to rise out of bed in time.

Tiffany prodded and poked the kidlins awake...she should have used a chair and bullwhip...have any of you ever seen Chase at 6am? Courage is what it takes to wake her up at that hour. While the wife stirred the young ones, I sluffed down the block to McDonald's. We needed food "on the go." So I got a "Local Breakfast." This was three slices of Portuguese sausage, two slices of SPAM, scrambled eggs and rice. Now that's McEating.

We gobbled in the wee morning as I drove us to Hanauma Bay. Why so early? Because this joint is popular...and once the parking lot fills, that's it...no mas entrar.

Now if you like colorful, stripey unbashful creatures of the semi-deep, this place is the place for you. It dwarfs what we've seen earlier. But Daddy paid the price for this adventure...IN BLOOD!

As I was hauling Chase along on her LOOKIE BOARD, the coral reef suddenly became very shallow...I tried to float over it, but SCCCRRAAAPPPEEE! I lost a chunk of skin on my knee. This was the kind of wound that didn't bleed right away...but once it did...well, let's put it this way cousins...I went through two McDonald's napkins. Of course I handled it cool as a cucumber, I only cried for ten minutes. Chase watched me with great disgust as I dialed 911 on my cellphone and sobbed for an emergency Mai Tai.

While at Hanauma Bay I just kept imagining what it must have been like to just live there a long time ago...could it ever get boring? With such beauty, and treacherous coral? I don't think so. And even if things did get a little dreary there was always an angry Polynesian King to keep you on your toes.

The water at the shore was so easy and calm. Both Chase and Charlie spent a big chunk of the time just playing in about a foot of water...while the bravest of fish swam up and around them.

We boogeyed on out of Hanauma Bay right as it hit capacity, and it was the right moment to split. During last snorkeling outing Charlie and I made before we left, we actually kept bumping into other snorkelers. Nobody has any peripheral vision, thus aqua-apologies ensue.

Then lunch at this place called Kona Brewing Company. Why am I mentioning this? Oh nothing, it's just where you get the best local brewed beer on the island, that's all. No big deal. Even the wife got into the boozing spirit. She actually finished a glass of beer. I tried to use pressure to get her to drink more, but as usual, she didn't buckle.

We tried to check out the Halona Blowhole afterwards...but our attempts were thwarted...there was a sign that said it was under refurbishment. How you refurbish a blowhole, I don't know. Many different pictures pop into my head but they're all R rated. Eh, maybe they were just talking about the parking lot...

As we were cruising around we had the local tunes cranked. 105.1 plays nothing but Hawaiian tunes and music from local artists. It might be the most loathed station by the locals. But this tourist loves it! It's just perfect for the sights, the water, and the top down.

Getting the convertible was a smart choice, even though we are all getting cooked like four ballpark wieners.

But absorbing this place is a lot more pleasant when you can soak in the sun and sights with the wind in your hair...instead of being cramped in a ford focus.
For dinner we went to a place recommended to us by more than one person, THE SIDESTREET INN. It's a Karaoke Bar, Cigar Bar and Restaurant. It's described as the place where all the best chefs on the island go to nosh after hours. And let me tell you...

Korean short ribs, pork fried rice with bits of bacon, fried pork chops, calamari steak strips. It was GOOOOD EATIN'.

On the television U of H was battling it out with UCLA in some Hawaiian Invitational for Women's Volleyball. The Sidestreet Inn became electrified as U of H battled back from what was an expected loss, then came within striking distance to even it out so many times. But UCLA ultimately put the Wahini Warriors to bed. I'm sure some of the locals wondered why this white guy with a sunburn was rooting so hard for U of H to win.

At dinner, Charlie had two Sprites, so I had to take the keys from her and drive back to the hotel.

Tomorrow is our last day before we leave this place, (When Chase made this realization yesterday she actually started to sob.) So we plan to do what everyone tells you to do while you're in Hawaii - after their long list of sights to see and whatnot - and that is...chill. It's just going to be us and the beach and maybe a waterfall. But we are going to do our best to stretch the day out as long as we can.

Mahalo.

Noni

2008-08-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

Cousins,

Nothing says "Hawaii" like having breakfast at a joint called "Cheeseburger in Paradise" and watching the first possession of USC football over a breakfast cheeseburger (what made it breakfast was an egg on top.) FIGHT ON! Although it was hard to pull away from the gridiron...I knew that if I stayed this day would be on the list of things Charlie could hold against me in the future. Thus, after USC's first touchdown, we skeedaddled to the Pearl Harbor Memorial.

Near the parking lot of the Memorial there is a sign that says no large cameras, backpacks, camera bags, purses, diaper bags and strollers are allowed.

Before you actually make it out to the Memorial you watch this pretty effective 22 minute movie talking about the "Day that will live in Infamy." A lot of it I never knew about. I also didn't know they had actual footage of the U.S.S. Arizona exploding. It was pretty violent. There was even a shot of a dead body bobbing in the water. Chase was totally oblivious. Charlie told me afterward it was scary. Then we went out to the Memorial.

After that we bopped op to the Punchbowl Crater, but not being of the ilk to see who's buried in there, we looked at the skyline and left.

In the evening we took a short little cruise up the side of the island to watch the sun set. But the setting sun wasn't the most stunning thing about this experience. This was.

I don't even need to talk about it. The picture speaks for itself. And by the way, Charlie took this photo.

After dinner (we had dinner on the boat) Chase had lots of fun sitting at the very front, with the wind whipping in her face, pretending that she was the Captain who was trying not to crash the boat.

Satisfaction. If I knew how to say it in a hundred different languages I'd say it a hundred times.

Mahalo.

LIFE IS A BEACH...

2008-08-30T02:14:00.000-07:00

Cousins,

I'm nursing a Tazo Lotus Green Tea "a decaffeinated tea with the subtle essence of lotus blossoms" and have slathered my body with Banana Boat After Sun gel. I am spent. We all are spent. We all are...actually, slathered in After Sun gel. We are the carcasses that "FUN" has left behind in it's fearsome, fun-filled wake...

Today we broke in our snorkel gear, which we rented from Snorkel Bobs - "If you can't say you wished you rented from Snorkel Bob instead...it's probably because you've drowned." I think that's their motto...but I'm really bad at paraphrasing. Today we hit two spots, Ko Olina and Kuilima Cove.

Ko Olina was a very pleasant little nook of a place just perfect for Charlie to get used to all the snorkel stuff on her face and feet. Now, we could only use a waterproof camera for this day, and it's not digital, so we don't have the exact pictures ready, but I've found others that will help you get the picture. Thank you.

This is what Ko Olina looks like. Just nothing less that a dollop of the good life. Charlie donned all her gear and was ready, and after choking a few times, started to get the hang of things.

Now, it must be pointed out right here and now that Charlie had taken swimming lessons earlier this summer for the sole purpose of being able to go snorkeling. So this was again a very proud moment for Mom and Dad. She took the whole experience with ease. Never panicked or freaked out...even when her snorkel filled with water...which it did many times. In fact, the very first outing at Ko Olina where I took her very far out...I could swear I heard singing. And the song was familiar. Charlie was bobbing in the ocean for the first time, snorkel adorned, and was humming what I could swear was "Tequila," punctuating it occasionally with a high pitched "OOOOOOO" whenever a tropical fish swam by.

Chase...did not snorkel. We rented for her what is called a "Lookie Board." It's a boogie board with a plastic portal to see into the water.

Now, naturally, the waves at Ko Olina weren't that big. In fact, there were no waves at all - which is what made it so perfect for everyone to start off with. But I'm sure if Chase knew this maneuver was a possibility she'd force me to make it happen.

I myself have not snorkeled for about ten years or so, and had forgotten the odd sense of claustrophobia you can experience while floating around with a mask on that prevents any peripheral vision...but I quickly acclimated and felt very accomplished after my first dive.

Tiffany was the biggest snorkeling question mark of all. For some reason Tiffany has been prone to getting sea sick of late. While whale watching in Monterey last year she was the greenest I'd ever seen her in all the time I've known her. So visions of Tiffany releasing huge plumes of violent underwater vomit, thus causing a swarm of stupid frenzied tropical fish who thought it was a free meal...hundreds darting in and out of this aqua puke cloud and my poor wife in the middle of it...well, that scenario has come to my mind more than once. But, alas! It was all for nothing. Tiffany rocked Ko Olina like a pro.

Okay, I know I know...we weren't jet skiing. But it's 11:53pm and every muscle in my body is calling me a total jerk right now...to my face.

After Ko Olina we tackled the North Shore for some shrimp trucks and Matsumoto's. The shrimp truck we ate at was called MACKY's and claimed to have won the 2005 "Battle of the North Shore Shrimp Trucks." Nuff said, right? Time to eat!
After we yum yummed we hit Matsumoto's, which I have to say is like the PINK'S HOT DOGS of Oahu. Big line. All the books, by the way, said the line moved at a crisp pace, so no big deal. That line was so long and so slow that we had time for two different "pee emergencies" where one of us had to get in the car to whisk one of the girls to a store that allowed us to use their restroom...TWICE. When we finally did get it, both Tiffany and Chase were not impressed at all. Charlie and myself enjoyed our respective shaved ice, but we didn't feel that it opened our minds to a whole new meaning of life. The ice was fluffier...the flavors were wider in variety. The rest is just because you have to if you are at the North Shore...I think. Maybe I'm wrong.

After shaved ice it was time to terrorize some more fish, so we went to Kuilima Cove. This is what Kuilima Cove looks like.

That was precisely what we were looking out at. Brilliance. The waves were friskier here. And the swells really tried their best to pull you out as far as they could, but the sights were top notch. I myself had a run in with a sea turtle. Our conversation went like this:

Me: Oh! Damn! A SEA TURTLE!!!

Sea Turtle: Christ.

And the sea turtle swam away. It was a moment. But other than sea turtles we saw puffer fish and tangs and...just watch Finding Nemo...most of those guys, but not CGI.

So now I must lie down. We invaded the waters of Oahu, and are claiming victory. But be warned...there will be more action.

Mahalo.

Happy Birthday Charlie Dodge!!!

2008-08-29T02:55:00.000-07:00

08-28-08 was Charlie's 8th Birthday. So what did we do? We let her experience a little PINEAPPLE EXPRESS! And let me tell you, she went for a ride...

I don't know what any of you might have been thinking, but I'm referring to that charming little choo choo train that chugs around two miles of Pineapple crops at the Dole Pineapple Plantation. Hmmm, Pineapple. Interesting factokalu (Hawaiian Fact) #1:

PINEAPPLES AREN'T HAWAIIAN. That's right. They're Brazilian. Legend has it that they found their way to the islands via a Spanish shipwreck. But the mix of the fresh ocean breeze and the reddish volcanic-mixed soil made Pineapples really kick some serious ass around these parts. Good for them!

We also tackled the world's largest maze, and were supposed to find the hidden markers that had little shapes you could stencil onto your ticket. At first Chase tried to just take off on a path all her own, completely uncaring that she could instantly lose us. She felt she knew where to go.

But after twenty minutes both kids started to panic we were making them "hike" again, so we all four resolved to give up. In Chase's words, "I didn't ask to do this Daddy. I didn't ask to do this..."

While lost in the maze, aside from fearing that whatever we touched might take us directly to Lord Voldemort, we did happen to run into the largest snail I've ever seen in my life. I told the kids not to make eye contact, for I was certain it was carrying a firearm.

After sampling from chilly Pineapple ice cream in Pineapple Juice we Pineappled our Pineapples out of there... to take on the Polynesian Cultural Center.

The layout affords visitors to experience a "village" from each of the Polynesian Islands...and the entire place is run by BYU. Factokalu #2:

Seventy percent of the employees at the PCC are current BYU students. What?

Activities were abundant. Demonstrations rotund. And it was really cool to experience the wide swath of Polynesian Cultures all in one gulp. The only odd thing was that every cultural presentation, which was thoroughly comprehensive with history and politics and social structure, was totally devoid - I mean no evidence whatsoever - of any historical religious markings whatsoever. I wonder why...

This was a picture that Charlie took with her own Camera when she and Chase went off on their own for a craft activity. Tiffany and I found this on her camera later.

The girls were officially worn to a nub. And we hadn't even tackled the Luau yet!

We Luaued at the PCC. The show was something straight out of a time warp from the Catskills. Some guy who called himself "Uncle Benny" pops up onstage while we are all jawing wildly at roast pig and poi and he proceeds with Ukelele backed impersonations of everyone from Elvis to Tiny Tim to Louis Armstrong. In between his shtick some underage Hula Dancers would perform and then he'd shoo them offstage with lots of overplayed saccharin, "Ahh Cousins, doesn't Hawaii just grow the cutest kids?"

But then, at the very end of the show...I mean the last two minutes...Uncle Benny hauls into this wild, satanic inspired Ukelele performance that would put any professional guitarist to shame. He had voodoo in his fingers. He turned into a Ukelele Jimmy Hendrix, playing wicked and fast and accurate, then doing the same thing behind his head, then under his leg, then with his teeth. The guy was a Ukelele miracle. Which left me thoroughly disoriented and chewing on my sleeve. It was like watching that funny vendor at a baseball game with the vacant look in his eyes suddenly cold cock a few fans out of the way to get to the field and then hit a homer. Why hadn't he done this from the beginning? Wouldn't everyone rather see Uncle Benny go up there and tear it up instead of baring the brunt of bad impressions and outdated cheese whiz? Uncle Benny, you can do so much more!

After the Luau the girls looked like two prisoners of war on a long march: delirious, exhausted, practically beginning for the fun to stop. But we hadn't even gotten to the show yet!

The show was called HORIZONS and was all about all the various island cultures and their dancing and yelling...by the way, that's what I appreciate most about the island cultures...they love to yell...and I don't mean HEY EARL CAN YOU PASS ME THE GODDAMN SALT? I mean, they yell as if they are linemen in the NFL. HHOOOOOORAAAAR!!! Wild eyed. Tongue waggling. Honest and insane. I love it. I've resolved to do it more in my day to day life. I think it will be a noticeable change for the better.

So yes, stomping and yelling and hip swanking and hula dancing...and all the while both girls' heads were lolling on their shoulders with their eyes stuttering back into their respective, exhausted sockets. Tiffany and I would exchange glances that essentially said, "Look, so sweet, they've had such a great day they can't take any more...our little angels." Then we would vigorously shake them awake. "HEY! HEY! YOU'RE GONNA MISS IT! FIRE! FIRE! YOU CAN'T MISS THE FIRE! IT'S FIRE! HEY! WAKE UP! FOCUS!

True to their spirit, Charlie and Chase came-to just long enough to see all the fire action. And nobody left the show feeling burned.

ALOHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-08-28T02:23:00.000-07:00

So I'm lying in the hotel room with the girls - Chase in one bed with me and Charlie snuggling with Tiffany in the other. Aloha time is 11:25 but my computer's flipping me the double bird in the lower right hand corner by saying 2:25am. My head is spinning. My calves ache. I have an ice headache from chomping on hotel ice. Because who knows what kind of "poku poku" the hotel water will wreak on my intestines - so I stick with the ice from the machine - ice which I've convinced myself is of course double charcoal filtered...of course. Even though I'm exhausted I am thinking about today.

But let's start with last night. Best flight I've ever had in my life. Smooth. Pleasant. Wonderful. I love Hawaiian Airlines. Mahalo. Charlie ended up having about an hour long conversation with a woman who from the sound of it is a literal world traveler. At one point Charlie whips out one of her favorite stuffed animals she brought along with her and told the woman all about it. Next thing you know, the woman pulls out of her backpack her own set of stuffed animals she says she brings with her wherever she goes. It was a delightful moment to eavesdrop on.

We get in and are instantly pooped, but grab some room service anyway. The only reason why room service is noteworthy is because we ordered a hamburger patty topped with a fried egg on a bed of gravy smothered spam fried rice. The name for it escapes me. But boy oh boy, food of the heavens!

This morning's mission, attack Diamond Head. We hiked. You didn't read wrong, we hiked. Now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with Diamond Head. But it's a long dead volcano with a hiking path that leads you to a view of the island unequalled anywhere. So you drive right into the crater, get out of your car, and start hoofing it up this cement path. But soon enough, this cement path turns into what I believe is simply a path of uneven, swirling carved lava. No single step was the same all the way up. And most importantly, NO SHADE. Anywhere. And because you are inside the crater, very little ocean breeze. Sweat is what we did. Huge dribbles of sweat. In my eyes. I was heaving for breath so bad I was inhaling sweat through my nose. And the sunblock slash bug repellent I slathered my forehead with was now melting into my eyes. But even I found that comical to the point where the searing pain of my orbs just made me chuckle.

So the path leads the unfortunate souls up the inside lip of the volcano to these old lookout batteries that were used in World War II. But it's a long one, filled with switchbacks galore, complimented with three different sets of stairs, each with about three hundred thousand or so steps, more or less. On one set of steps Chase took one look and just said, "No. You are going to carry me." I would have refused but she made it to that point without much resistance (although I did have to give her a few "Kapus" on the way up for whining.) Thus I agreed to carry her up the set of stairs. There were 99 steps on that set of stairs. 99. That's NINETY NINE STEPS carrying my four year old in my arms. To her credit she did take three of those steps on her own. So 96 STEPS CARRYING MY DAUGHTER. When I got to the top I lost all sense of communication. A woman at the top who was coming back down saw me and remarked, "That was incredible." I would have loved to have thanked her with a smile but that would have just released a flood of flying drool and hot breath, so I grimaced in pained gratitude.

Following the stairs was a cave with the width to accommodate one and a half people. The cave was over a hundred yards or so...and it was low. "Claustrophobes" beware! But we finally wound up a rickety old metallic staircase and BOOM we were right in the lookout battery. And the breeze came and kissed us all hello. Actually it was more like making out with me because I was gasping so hard with such a wide open mouth. We crawled out of the lookout to an even higher point which was wonderful, and I have to say, WORTH IT. And I appreciated the rich irony of watching some tourists from Japan looking out through the bunker out into the ocean, and thinking that it wasn't but a mouthful of years earlier some American G.I.'s, eyes agape, were on the lookout out for the Japanese, ready to sound the alarm.

I wondered if ever there was ever a conversation between two bored G.I.'s, late one night during the war, "Hey Earl, you know what I think? Years from now there are gonna be tourists that will climb up here and stand here right where we're spitting and farting and telling dirty jokes. And I bet...I bet some of the tourists are even going to be the Japanese! That's right! Because one day the Japanese are gonna be our allies. AND...and...one day we are gonna pay four dollars for coffee and phones will be smaller that this here ammo box...NO THEY WILL YOU WATCH AND SEE...and we'll have something called a TIVO- No no...it's English.. and we just won't be able to live without it!"

I must admit the hike down was much faster, and more entertaining. Watching all the beet-faced people walking past us on their way up, huffing with extreme trepidation. So much doubt in their faces about whether they will even make it to the top. You could read it on everyone's expressions, "I FLEW ALL THIS WAY TO THIS DAMN ISLAND AND EVEN THOUGH I'M ABOUT TO STROKE OUT I AIN'T SLOWING DOWN!"

Charlie was a champ the whole time. Maybe because she was having fun, or maybe because she saw what would happen had she decided to get whiny (cite: CHASE-KAPU in earlier paragraph.)

Rewarding ourselves with shaved Ice we then kind of found our way into the ALA MOANA mega mall by accident, had lunch, then passed out in the hotel room for a nappy nap.

Upon waking up the Dodge Four tackled the beach. Charlie victoriously swam out into the waves by herself...practically making her father raise the tide to dangersous levels all by himself with tears of pride. This act made Chase all the more daring, wading in pre-tty deep with Mom, until a little sassy Waikiki wave just came and took her out. That was it for her. Game over. Case closed. Chase doesn't like waves anymore. "They're salty"...says she... No more going into the water...

At least until tomorrow.

Mahalo.

2007-07-17T12:28:00.000-07:00