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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RED TAPE? TRY RED BODIES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EVER PET A SHARK? WELL, CHASE JUST DID

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

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

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

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

DAMN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRUISIN'

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...

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

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.

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.

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.