Where's My Cape?

Getaway

The countdown is on, both for this baby to pop on out and for The Husband's deployment. Work has been unusually busy. And on the homefront, I've been trying to get the house ready for baby's arrival. This has meant dealing with contractors. Reminding me that I don't care too much for contractors. You have no idea what kind of ridiculousness I've had to deal with: things being installed so wrong, I'm like ??? Does it look normal to you to have screws sticking straight out from the top of the new sliding door? Shouldn't the sliding door not just slide off the tracks at either end? Ugh.

We're also converting our study to the new baby's room, involving moving the study contents (heavy) to another part of the house (professional movers), and painting the room to an acceptable boy's color. I just can't put him in a peach room. Won't do it. He'll blame me for his future therapy.

In the midst of this insanity, our friends T&T, who have been through deployments themselves, have been on our case to put a kids' sleepover on the books for the express purpose of allowing The Husband and I to getaway. As a couple. In silence. To enjoy each other. As we countdown.

They have been so persistent. Even while I hemmed and hawed. But, my work schedule! But, The Husband may not be able to make it back home! But, the kids are a handful! But, but! But! Yet, there was no saying no. And, then, we gave in and planned a real getaway. Well, at least 24 hours away on the Eastern shore of MD. Coming up to this weekend, we could not wait.

We dropped off Boy and Girl into their welcoming home, said a little prayer (please let Boy not inopportunely pee in their house, please let Girl not whine and complain, please let Boy not cry the whole time for Mama and keep the good, generous people up all night, etc, etc.) and went on our way.

We got to the Inn in a quaint, adorable town and checked into our room. The room was well-decorated, with a fireplace and luxe bath products (always a good sign). However, as I soon discovered, it was kind of loud in there. The room sat right across from the Inn's Pub, carrying those bar conversations right into our room, as did the conversations of the family in the room next door and the conversations of people passing in the hall. Not peaceful.

I went to the reception desk and pleasantly notified their staff that it was really noisy in the room. The receptionist apologized and checked her computer for any other rooms that were available. Sadly, the only room we could be moved to was a Master Suite. Which she would let us have as a free upgrade. So sad. The nerve! How dare she move us to a Master Suite with a balcony and a sitting room and a huge bathroom with a clawfoot tub and awesome shower appartus! Hmph!

So, we moved and decided this was so the way to go in the future: book the lowest-grade room and try to get the worst room of the house. Complain. Get free upgrade into suite. This is so the ticket.

We spent a glorious time together. Just glorious. It (the new room) was peaceful. Wonderful meals in their award-winning restaurant. Just spending time together, alone. Absolutely amazing. Every so often, we'd think of what kind of chaos was going on at T&T's and hoping for the best. 

When we picked the kids up, the report (or at least the report we were given) was that everything went well- the kids had a blast and no big issues. They handled being without us for the first time beautifully (or at least that's the story). Wow. We are so, so indebted to them.

The getaway was just what we needed.

Sunrise, from our balcony

 

The inn's secret bookcase door in the Library. (No fair. I want one.)

 

Bookcase door leads to the "morning room"

 

The trip down south

Okay, so not very far south but south-er. To NC. The new home for the Husband for the next 2 years. (What??? Did you miss that little fact? Yes, big things have been going down at the KC household, all that can be summed up by a song by the Village People. No, not that one. This one.)

Anyway, we loaded the car (I say 'we' but I had very little part of that loading) and headed off, with the kids staying put with the grandparents. Girl seemed to be handling everything just fine at first, but as we finished backing out of the driveway, the little face on the porch grew more and more wretched, as if she was grasping the largeness of that moment for the first time. That was when a piece of my heart crumbled off my shirt and fell into my lap.

We had barely made it out of DC (dude. I forgot how huge the beltway is), when we hit awful traffic on 95 in Northern Virginia. I mean, awful. No accidents. No jack-knifed trailer. This was just plain old 95 traffic sloth. Inching. Several times, I was tempted to get out and walk just to feel better from the stagnation but worried I would get too far ahead of the car. It set us back 1 entire hour.

I hadn't road-tripped south for a long time, but I have to say it was interesting. You just see different things. Lots of people seemed to enjoy pulling off the side of the road and resting. Like two old guys in lawn chairs, smoking. There were MANY CRACKER BARRELS. So many. Like as many Cracker Barrels as Dunkin Donuts in New England. I saw a Piggly Wiggly! Bojangles. An excess of Dairy Queens. It was all very Toto-I-don't-think-we're-in-Kansas-anymore.

We finally made it to his geo-bachelor pad that we had rented: gorgeous, beach-side, beautifully furnished and just perfect. I was so glad that if he was going to be isolated from the family, that he had a beautiful, comfortable place to live. The kids would love it. We moved in his stuff pretty quickly.

The next morning, we hit Target (30 minutes away! Dude. Our Target is 30 seconds, tops) and then brunch at -where else- CRACKER BARREL. Please note I have no recollection of ever eating there. I used to think I had, but then I think that was an actually a Shoney's in Nashville. It was there during Sunday Brunch where I fell in love. With a pancake. Cracker Barrel pancake, where have you been all my life? I'm going to need to break it off with IHOP because that pancake was insane.

By the time the afternoon rolled around,it was time to get in the car to make the long drive to the airport. There, in a goodbye scene from many a movie, we hugged extra long as I tried not to let any tears spill out from behind my sunglasses. One month. One month until we'd next see each other.

One day at a time, right?

Vacation, all I ever wanted

It's not easy being green

We got to the rental car counter and were all ready to rent our step-up from compact car when I saw the pretty picture of all the different cars they had. This was, no doubt, to lure impulsive fools like me into renting an upgrade. Look, said the woman-car-rental-gypsy, eyeing my weakness, you could rent a convertible! My eyes glazed right past the red convertible and the mega-2-ton SUV and settled on….a Prius! Ooh! A Prius! Honey, let’s get a Prius!

Sure sign that you are an old fogey.

They were out of Priuses. But, we could get a Camry hybrid. Let’s do it! And we entered the adult world of practical joy.

What fuel option did you want?

There were 3. Option #1: pay for a full tank of gas ahead of time for $3/gallon. Option #2: Have them top you off when you bring in the car at $8/gallon. Option #3: Fill the tank up yourself.

Clearly, we would not be going for option #3. Totally not happening.

So, I said pretty confidently, #1!

Car-rental-gypsy-woman said, yes, going to Napa? You’ll probably use a whole tank. She said this totally not convincingly.

We drove A LOT. All around. We stayed in Sonoma and traveled quite a bit to get to our various dinners. One road trip involved ME driving the DEATH ROAD between Sonoma and Napa.
As you can imagine, the “shortcut” between 2 neighboring valleys is to go over the  mountains in between. DO NOT EVER DRIVE ON THIS ROAD.

While driving on this road, I was suddenly taken back to 10 years ago when I’m pretty sure I was also driving this road, a road of DANGER and UNPLEASANTNESS. We’re talking about going on narrow, winding roads on sides of cliffs WITH NO GUARD RAIL. I did not like this road. Not one bit. It should be a sign whenever the road doesn’t end in “Road” or “Drive”, but “Grade.”

So not a fan of that road.

Anyway, having pre-paid for the whole tank of gas ahead of time, we were periodically checking the gas gauge WHICH HARDLY BUDGED. Dude. We drove for miles. We found ourselves ironically wishing to burn gas and make my fuel choice not a fail….while driving a hybrid. It was quite funny in an environmentally all wrong way.

In the end, we used maybe a half a tank. So, Avis, there’s our gift to you (and to the environment).

Stay away from Oakville Grade if you know what’s good for you.

California dreaming

I'm writing from wine country, CA. Dude. This place rocks. The last time The Husband and I were here, it was almost 10 years ago exactly. It was the trip where he asked me to marry him.

So, we're back and some things have changed quite a bit. For one, our entire trip was not planned out to the second in glorious detail (our nickname for the yesteryear trip was 'TOE' --Tour of Exhaustion). It's been quite the opposite.  For another, we have considerably more funds to do this trip right this time. Last time, we were on a very. tight. budget.

I wasn't planning on posting, but, LORD, the material I have so far on this trip just begs to be posted.

The flight out.

We flew out of Dulles. Since the last time I flew out of there, they seemed to have improved their security line process considerably. No longer was there a line snaking out right behind the ticket counters, but you go down to a shiny new area where you are processed. It seems like an improvement, the space at least, but for reasons unbeknownst to me, some worker dude had a bunch of us detour down a different  line path. This path was THE WRONG PATH. It took forever. Then they directed us to other sub-lines, and people were entering these sub-lines from the other end. And we barely moved. And others were flying through the lines. By the time we got to the terminal, we had like 15 minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. Grrrr. New anti-terrorist measure: create such gross inefficiency that people can not make their flights. Actually, wondering whether that worker dude had an official TSA badge. MAYBE THIS IS ALL A PLOT.

We had to stop and get coffee and I thought it was probably a good idea to get some breakfast to go since it was a 5-6 hr flight and only food for purchase (a.k.a $5 box of blah) and ordered a breakfast sandwich at Dunkin Donuts. Here, the terrorism plot continued. The guy fixes both our coffees then pauses as if to ask himself, "Now what do I do?" I said, "The sandwich! Do the sandwich!" Suffice it to say that I ran ahead to get my seat while JP offered to wait for my sandwich since I had the middle seat and he the aisle.

Time was ticking. We had less than 10 minutes. I ran and got into line, looking back nervously every few seconds to make sure JP made it. (He did)

But, when I got to my seat, the overhead storage areas were pretty full. I looked around, tried to move people's coats around up there to find room for my bag. I saw that the storage area just behind my seat had some room. A small flat bag with a jacket took up a large space. Of course, I'm holding up everyone else at this point and feeling not cool. I started to try and rearrange the space and the woman below - a gray-haired woman doing a crossword puzzle - looks up at me and says, "I don't think your bag is going to fit. LOOK AT IT UP THERE. There's no room."

I was flustered. I said, "I think if this bag was stacked, there would be room."

She looks up again from her puzzle and looks directly at me with icy hate, "I don't want my bag stacked."

I looked at her. She was pure evil incarnate. Satan. Satan doing a crossword.

I didn't know what to do. There was no where else to fit my bag. I just stood there. Like a statue. Frozen by Satan.

The guy behind me saved me. He said, there's room in that overhead compartment. I said with gritted teeth and a smile, but she doesn't want her bag stacked. He understood and stepped up to rearrange her bag, saying, well, we need to make room for everyone's bags, and then made room for my suitcase, put it in, and went on his merry way.

I love you stranger!

Finally, I sat in my seat, and told The Husband of my adventures with She-Devil (who was sitting directly behind him), just loudly enough. I'll see your nastitude, and raise you some passive-aggressiveness!

Next chapters...Renting a hybrid and trying to burn gas.

Wine ta$ting

and more!

miami vice

I just got back from Miami for work (I know, torture), and, wow, it was like a sociology case study. Forgive me if you are a man from Miami and DO NOT wear your button down shirts unbuttoned to your belly button, but you are in the minority.

There's also some serious cruising behavior going on. As in, driving slowly in your car with the windows rolled down and some deafening music blasting out. One car that passed by had the horn rhythmically tooting while the driver's arm was sticking out the window holding a plastic cup with a beverage inside that looked suspiciously like beer. Um, that's not begging for an arrest or anything.

I saw a herd of older, scantily-clad women waiting in line to see the aging New Kids on The Block. It gave me the heebie-jeebies while simultaneously cracking me up. (Also flash back to 8th grade NKOTB concert - the concert that turned me off to NKOTB forever watching girls CRY when they came out - Pass.)

On the plus side, it was beautiful. The water was a clear green and actually warm enough for me to go in (this is saying alot). I even went swimming. That is, until some debris kept knocking around my legs and convinced me that some kind of menacing sea creature was after me. End of swim. Done.

Now, if only all work trips were somewhere with palm trees.

Living vicariously, Part 7839

Disney World from the eyes of a 3 1/2 year old.

You might think that the tender age of 3 1/2 would be too young to appreciate the awesomeness that is Disney World. To that, I present to you Exhibit A.

And Exhibit B.

What I held out from you all is that I wasn't just in Florida, I was in ORLANDO. As in, home of THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH. When I found out this conference was being held in Orlando a couple of years ago, I nearly did a jig of joy. Girl would be 3 1/2! WE MUST GO.

So, Saturday, Husband and Girl flew in to meet me. (Bless my parents who watched Boy back home.) I could hardly stand to wait and showed up by the hotel's entrance way early, staring at the automatic revolving doors for some sign of The Taxi pulling up. NB: staring at a revolving door will give you a headache. And will make you feel stoopid for continuing to stare at the revolving door but you can't look away since OHMYGOD they could be pulling up at any moment. OWMYHEAD.

When I saw them, I ran. Two days and I missed them so much! We threw things in the hotel room and made our way to The Magic Kingdom. I may have been drooling.

We spent 1 1/2 days there which was just right. Girl had a freaking blast, as did Husband and I. FYI- Off-peak season is so the way to go. The longest we waited for any ride was 20-30 minutes and many of them we walked right on or with minimal wait. 5 minutes for Pirates! 10 min for Small World! We did The Teacups x 3. Many of the children's rides were downright breathtaking - it's amazing how much goes into each one. I loved Peter Pan and Pooh. And Small World (my favorite) made me ovulate.

(*please note that my cleavage is NOT drinking apple juice from a straw. Sorry to disappoint. Mental note: shirt not appropriate for family theme park.)

At one point, we were walking in Toon Town and saw a tent where children could get their faces painted for a nominal fee (Note: Di$ney ain't cheap). Most of the girls went straight for the girly princess-y ones (I will not get into the multiple small girls wearing princess dresses and Snow White outfits around the park), of course my girl picks the Tiger Face. Girl was great, lying back in the chair and letting the woman paint her face. Then the moment of truth: the women held up a mirror for her to see what she looked like.

(straight face of displeasure)

Note the black sparkly lipstick was removed upon request by a stiff-mouthed tiger-puss who said solemnly without moving her lips, "My drool is coming." I feared a meltdown involving immediate Tiger Face removal, but she rallied (or forgot about it) after a spell and we got lots of Aw's! wherever we went.

Even during the surprise showers (whipping out our pre-packed ponchos-whosyourdaddy?) we had a fantastic time. And I can't can't can't wait to go back when both our kids meet all height requirements.

On a bicycle built for three: