Sarah Too

Let me tell you about one of the best concert experiences of my life. U2 is my favorite band. I developed an unhealthy obsession with them in 1996. I know, I’m a late bloomer. The band had been around for over 15 years by then. If I had been more involved in the music scene at age 8, I would have loved them at Joshua Tree, just like the rest of America. Regardless, U2 was probably my first love. Well, BONO was my first love, and Lordy, he still has it.

I first tried to see U2 live my freshman year of college. I bought tickets to the Toronto show of the PopMart Tour. My high school friend agreed to go with me, then bailed on me! She was not up for the adventure of getting across the state of New York and the Canadian border to get to the show. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anyone else up for the adventure, and I still have the unused tickets. Dude, if I couldn’t go – no one else was going either! So I didn’t sell them. I held out hope until the bitter end that I would still be able to go. Fast forward to the Elevation Tour. I persuaded my brother and his then-fiancée to go to the Philadelphia show. In short, it was AMAZING. Bono had the crowd in the palm of his hand. I still remember the hush as U2 closed out the show with “With or Without You.”

Now, I had another chance to see U2, right here in my own metro area at Raymond James Stadium. The media hyped up the anticipation with an expected crowd of 70,000 and massive traffic delays. I took a half day from work, and my friend Kelly and I hopped in the car about 4 hours before the opening act, Muse, took the stage. We loaded up on beverages and Subway, and braced ourselves for “the suck” of traffic. The suck never arrived! We cruised all the way to the stadium, and coasted right into a parking spot. Kelly and I tailgated and listened to one of the most awful, yet awesome, covers of U2 songs ever – The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Plays U2. The clarinet performs the melody to “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. Kelly and I laughed our asses off. We couldn’t get through an entire song – we would listen to each until we knew which song from the U2 catalogue it was, then moooove right along to the next.

I should mention here that the outdoor temperature in Tampa on this night was about a gabillion degrees. As in SWELTERING. The coozies were barely keeping our beers cold. Sweat was dripping down my back. Sultry comes to mind.

After what we felt was a sufficient amount of time with our cheap beer, Kelly and I mentally prepared for “the suck” of getting into the stadium where we had field tickets. That’s right, we had standing room on the football field – not seats. We figured we would be in the back, a million miles (or at least 70 yards) from Bono and the Boys. Well, I don’t know what was working for us, but we got within 10 yards of the stage.

At a little after 7, Muse opened for U2. I was most pleasantly surprised by this band that appeared on the soundtrack for “Twilight”. [If you don’t know what that movie is, or what it’s based on, you have been living in a pop culture void and you are dead to me.] Muse freaking rocked! I actually did not want their set to end!

The main act, as usual, took their sweet time about it. By this time, the floor space had filled in to sardine-like capacity and I was soaked through with sweat. The rest of the stadium was full up, too, breaking all attendance records for the stadium. See what can be accomplished when you take football out the equation?!?!

U2 yet again rocked my world. Bono yet again had a crowd of tens of thousands in the palm of his hand. And the set list was one to drool over, with some songs that I know the band rarely performed in concert before, like “The Unforgettable Fire” and “MLK”. Check it out below.

Breathe
Get on Your Boots
Mysterious Ways
Beautiful Day
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Stuck In A Moment
No Line on the Horizon
Magnificent
Elevation
Until The End of the World
Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy - Remix
Sunday Bloody Sunday
MLK
Walk On
One
Where The Streets Have No Name

Encore
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender

The only thing that could have made this better was if Bono had picked me out of the crowd and pulled me up on stage during “City of Blinding Lights” instead of some cute little boy. Whatevs. Next time!!!

Despite a somber beginning, my trip to the Oregon Coast with Jacob and his parents was wonderful. And, as if the Pacific Northwest sensed my cynicism regarding the weather, the clouds parted and the sun shone the entire trip. I don’t know how a soul could not be rejuvenated by, among other great things, snow-capped mountain vistas, craggy coastlines, crashing waves, and…cheese.

Day 1

On Sunday, we began near Seattle, and made our way south on I-5 toward the Oregon Coast. Around lunchtime, we pulled off I-5 onto State Highway 504 to stop at the Mount St. Helens Visitor Center at Silver Lake . We watched a brief movie cataloguing the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens from its tremulous beginning to its still lingering aftermath. Jacob’s Mom provided first-hand accounts of the soot and ash that rained down over central Washington following the eruption, of the damage wreaked on Spirit Lake where she used to vacation in summer with her family, and of the mounds of ash dredged from rivers choked with debris, which slid down the broken-apart mountainside. Nature certainly has its way of putting us humans in our place.

The visitor center was a nice break from the road, and the weather was so clear that I could see the snow-topped, gouged-out peak of Mount St. Helens. I stupidly left the camera in the car, so no visuals. We hit up Subway for before making our way back to I-5, then south along the shore of the Columbia River, toward Oregon. We passed through Portland, then joined up with Route 18, which led us west across the Willamette Valley – Oregon’s Wine Country (there are more than 200 wineries here). I think the next time I drive through, I should be on a party bus with a tasting itinerary and a vocab consisting of the terms “oaky”, “earthy”, “fruity”, “dry”, and “bouquet”. I’m sure cheese needs to be in there somewhere, too, but more on that later…

In the late afternoon, we finally roll up to the beach house in Lincoln City, Oregon. Jacob’s Dad made me wait outside until he could perfect the ambiance necessary for my entrance – namely roll up the shades so I could see the beautiful view of the crashing waves through the full-length windows facing the sea. Here, you can see it too.

The rest of the evening was spent settling in and recovering from a long day in the car. Good thing it is baseball and football season. Why watch the sea when there is ESPN?

Day 2

I love, love, LOVE waking up on vacation. It may be early, it may be late. Regardless, an alarm clock is not involved – just circadian rhythms at work. Jacob and I began our day with a beach workout – running barefoot and doing some push-ups, sit-ups, and planks. My boot camp instructor would be so proud! Too bad this was not really the level of morning activity I kept up for the rest of my stay in Pacific Standard Time. Well, too bad for my instructor. Blissfully wonderful for me. Let me tell you, though, that Pacific sand is freaking COLD! My feet were uncomfortably numb for the first half of the workout, then for the continuous run back they settled into comfortably numb. The hot shower back at the ranch felt like a dream!!

In the afternoon, we hopped in the car and drove a few miles north to Cascade Head Trail, which is a nice wooded trail leading up to the switchbacks that take you to the top of the headland. The view is absolutely spectacular!! Check it out:

Again with the fantastic weather, Pacific Northwest! I think your PR person might need to be fired, because all I ever hear about is cold, wet, and windy. Maybe you like it that way…keep all your good stuff hidden.

After the hike, we headed back to the ranch and my dogs were barkin’. It was only 6:30 PM, and I was cooked for the night. Dinner was Spring Fiesta, which involves a lot of fresh avocado and a whole bunch of other vegetable goodness. Monday night football with Brett Favre was dessert (or golden Oreos, whichever floats your boat). With the morning workout, the reading of books, the watching of waves, and the steep hike up and down the trail, I turned in relatively early, happy with the thought that I had no particular schedule for the next day, either.

Day 3 – Day of Cheese…and Beer

After a lazy start (for me, at least – some folks still go to work out on vacation), and after ogling some WHALES from the window, Jacob’s Mom and I toodled down the coast to Depoe Bay and Cape Foulweather for some light souvenir shopping and sightseeing. Upon our return, we started our great journey to the infamous Tillamook Cheese Factory. Tillamook is about 45 minutes north of Lincoln City, and apparently home to a great many high quality, well-fed jersey cows, which provide the best raw ingredient available for delicious-tasting CHEESE.

We started with the self-guided tour. Actually we started with a photo-op:

Because we were a twee bit hungry, and we knew cheese was on the menu, we kind of breezed through the tour. We saw the gloved and hair-netted, white-coated employees checking each baby loaf of cheese as they plopped the huge bricks of cheese on the conveyor belt, before each loaf got shrink wrapped and labeled. We also saw the display on Tilly (or is it “Tillie") the jersey cow – a mascot of sorts.

It reminded me of my Mom’s crazy ass story about “DeeDee Discount,” the three-legged dairy cow that Danny Wegman used to make Wegmans dairy products. Seriously, you’ll have to get her to tell you that story sometime. The genesis of that tale was Dad’s predilection for buying the store brand versus name brand. And if a cheese factory can be a tourist destination, then I think Wegmans should be one as well. I shopped and worked at that grocery store and nothing – NOTHING – comes close to the wonder of that place. If you have one near you, I envy you. I just don’t really envy the weather that surrounds any given Wegmans store. But, I wouldn’t mind going to the Scranton, PA store where I might have a chance of running into Michael Scott and company, filling up on Woo Pop.

Anyway, where were we? Right. Tillamook. Freakin’ A – they give you FREE samples! UNSUPERVISED! I can have as many free cheese curds and cubes of Horseradish Chedder, Hot Habanero Chedder, or Sharp Chedder as I freaking want!! Follow that up by making a bee line straight through the gift shop to the Farmhouse Café, where you can order up a tasty cup of coffee, a kick-ass grilled cheese sandwich, and a steaming cup of chowder. THEN, follow that up with some of the BEST tasting ice cream on this PLANET. I went for the Tillamook Mudslide, and next time I think in lieu of lunch, I will go for the flavor sampler – you get all 36 flavors for about $25.

Full up on dairy goodness, we waddled back to the car with our beefstick souvenirs (think of a 3 foot long Slim Jim) and drove south to Cape Meares Lighthouse and Wildlife Refuge. We parked at the trailhead and walked down the drive to the viewing areas and the lighthouse. Again, the weather allowed for breathtaking views of the coastal scenery…

Our visit was a little shorter than planned, as lunch took us later into the day than anticipated, and we still had a tall sand dune to climb. We hoofed our way back to the trailhead, then continued south in the car for Pacific City.

Jacob told me before of the standing competition between him and his father, which is a race to the top of the Cape Kiwanda sand dune near Pacific City. On this trip, the two of them invited me to the race. Based on Jacob’s description, I have an image of what this dune might look like in my head. I’ve been to the Outer Banks in North Carolina, so I’ve seen some serious sand dunes before, and I imagined it would be something akin to that. My imagination, however, failed me for when I saw the actual sand dune we were to race up.

The picture barely even does this thing justice. Look at how small that truck in the distance is, compared to the dune! It only gets more daunting the closer you get. Once the starting count was finished, I took off into the lead. ROOKIE MISTAKE. Twenty seconds in, and maybe a third of the way up the dune, I was sucking wind like an out-of-shape cop chasing down a fleet young purse-snatcher on foot. Jacob moved into the lead – bent in two and basically crawling up the dune on all fours like a bear. Jacob’s Dad steadily made headway, leaving me gasping, step by backsliding step, the rest of the way to the top. It was a tight finish at the end, with Jacob’s Dad nipping at Jacob’s heals with a late surge, but Jacob was able to stretch himself to a win. All that lung crushing work gets you a STUNNING reward.

Plus, there is beer at the bottom of that hill – microbrews for everyone at the Pelican Brewery. Jacob’s mom scored us a nice table window with a view of Haystack Rock (or “Gorilla Rock”).

Haystack Rock is one of four such rocks that dot the Pacific Coast. Once I was seated, I scored myself a nice Tsunami Stout. I used some big gulps to wash down some bits of the sand dune that I took with me.

When we finally returned to the house, we wound down the night with an epic game of Hearts. I finished in second place, and no one got to Shoot the Moon. That’s what happens when the competition is fierce.

Day 4

The final day of vacation always seems so glum. Like you’re trying to enjoy the last moments of freedom, but ultimately, you know you’re counting down to leaving. Yuck. The morning was foggy and gray, too, so that didn’t help too much. The first time during my whole visit that the Pacific NW weather was what its PR agent touted it as – cloudy and wet. It was at least a comfortable temperature.

Jacob and I took the day to do the town. We started with coffee and pastries as 101 Inspirations. The coffee shop is attached to an antiques store, which is actually a hodge-podge of items you would find at a garage sale. Lots of posters of Marilyn Monroe, some large figurines of Betty Boop, including one where she is dressed as a Devil Vixen with a tail coming out of her back, and lots of piles of old dusty magazines. Freaky store, yummy coffee. After that warm up, we headed to the outlet mall, just down the road. We both found some things to buy, which left us hungry and thirsty.

It all comes down to food, doesn’t it? It is our fuel, and it is an experience. Just ask Anthony Bourdain (I love him, don’t you?). Anyway, Oregon and the Pacific NW, in general, is chock full of microbreweries. Throw a rock and…So we hit up McMenamin’s Lighthouse Brewpub. We split the gyro sandwich and a pizza. I had the Black Rabbit Porter because cooler temperatures make me love thick, dark beer. By the time lunch was over, though, the sun was out and shining, so on the way back to the house, we stopped down at the beach. The water on the west coast is effing freezing, though, and any efforts to frolic in the foam fell flat. [Uh, by the way, how do you like THAT alliteration going on in that sentence!??! Ridiculous…and I didn’t even TRY!! Back to regular programming…]

We got back to the house to chill out before heading over to a dinner hosted by friends of Jacob’s parents. Our hosts treated us to a delicious dinner of baked salmon (YUM!), wild rice, steamed veggies, wine, and engrossing conversation at their well-appointed home. Player piano, anyone? Too bad our evening had to be an early one, as we all still had to pack and get to bed. We had a wake-up call of 2 AM coming our way. Oh yay.

Day 5

You know, with only 3 hours of sleep, I should keep going under day 4. Three hours of sleep is more like a brief, mid-afternoon nap on a Sunday, if you ask me. Not a night of sleep. We had to be up this early because our flight was at 6 AM out of the Portland airport, which is about 2 and half hours away from Lincoln City. So I dragged my ass out of bed, hefted my luggage out the door, and promptly tried to fall asleep again as we made our way back through wine county to the airport.

The flights home were pretty innocuous. I was, however, sandwiched in a middle seat of the 5 hour connecting flight from Denver to Tampa. I sat between Tall Drink of Water, Jacob, on one side and Large Expanding Man Who Couldn’t Get the Armrest All the Way Down on the other. I think my neck has a permanent crick in it from trying to sleep without touching Large Expanding Man. Home by 6 PM, I tried to get to bed early-ish so I could rest of for my next adventure. Stay tuned, because that report is coming up shortly.

In about a month and a half, I will be running across the state with the help of 11 teammates. Team Twisted Blister, as we call ourselves, will relay across the state for not only the pure challenge of completing 191 miles as a team, but also for a really fantastic cause -- EDUCATION. My teammate, and good friend, began donating to The Kenya Education Fund (KEF) several years ago after traveling to Kenya. Since that trip, she has made giving to KEF a regular part of her annual holiday party by collecting donations from guests. This usually involves incredibly fun gimmicks -- like Jell-O shots or souvenir cups for sale. As a grateful guest to her annual soiree, I have given to this great cause with pleasure (and I won't blame it on the Jell-O shots).


Now, Team Twisted Blister offers up the incredibly fun gimmick of surviving a team running relay across the relatively flat, yet lightning-prone and steamy state of Florida. You get the benefit of experiencing a running relay (by reading this blog) without any of the drawbacks (e.g., body odor, sweat, and tears), and with the knowledge that you are supporting a GREAT cause. Every dollar donated goes directly to a student in need, and provides supplies to help a student complete his or her education. I am always more compelled to give to a charity when I know where my gift is going, and when I know the recipient will appreciate the services provided. No where have I seen students more determined and enthusiastic than in areas of the world where the funds, facilities, support services, and supplies for a quality education are so clearly lacking. I see this when I read books like Three Cups of Tea, and when I read about the students helped by KEF.

To read more about Team Twisted Blister, the relay, and KEF, please check out our donation site. Any amount will go a long way toward boosting team morale (especially considering the whole B.O. factor), and toward helping a motivated student receive an education!

Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. -- Nelson Mandela

Well, last week it was my turn. After spending much of the year ringing in the next decade for many good friends, I turned 30. I reached 30? I made it to 30? I think it's a pretty big deal, even though I already can purchase cigarettes, alcohol, and porn as well as drive and rent a car. And now, I can finally achieve my dream of running for Senate. With the passing of Ted Kennedy, someone needs to fill the gap!

























In all seriousness, though, 30 is significant. As a person dear to my heart said, "You only get to celebrate, what? Nine decades?" That certainly put things in perspective when I told him that 30 really didn't feel much different. We only have a finite amount of time in our earthly bodies, and we must take a moment to take stock and appreciate the experience. Nothing serves as better milestone than a birthday.

Another dear friend of mine gave me the book, What I Know Now: Letters to My Younger Self. Reading through the collection, I began to think what I would tell my younger self. There are so many younger selves, however, to choose from! The imaginative pre-teen. The conflicted and insecure teenager. The searching and struggling young 20-something. As someone who does not believe in regrets (because all my experiences shaped who I am today), it is difficult task to think what my younger self needed to hear, but I will give it a shot. Hopefully, my current self will take some of the advice, too.

Dear Sarah,

At the end of a grueling 2 years of Junior High, during which you faced academic, athletic, and social challenges beyond anything you dealt with before, you are now facing the prospect of High School. I can already see the snarl forming on your face and the dark cloud over your head. I caution you, however, to view the next 4 years not as a test of survival, but as a brand spanking new opportunity, fresh and clean (with no mistakes). This is the time when you must marshal all of your talents and change your attitude. Sure, some of your classmates are not, nor will they ever be, your friends, but don't lump them all together. The world is not a game of you versus them. Don't limit your experience to what feels safe and comfortable, because I fear you will miss out on all the FUN. Don't wait until college to be brave. Say "yes" to yourself now. Life will grant you many blessings over the years, but only when you say yes to believing in yourself. Don't find the excuses before you even try. Play soccer. Join the swim team. Talk to the cute boy. Travel during summers. What else are you going to use all your paychecks from Wegmans for? Or if you are so stuck on saving up cash, go North and work on the River for the summer. Never again will you have so much available time and resources to experience the world, expand your horizons, and maybe meet some new and fabulous people that don't even go to your high school (eek!!). Allow your black and white world a little more gray, and that means giving yourself a little more slack. You have a strong will, Sarah, and a loving heart. Both of these gifts will get you further than you ever thought possible, but only when you say yes. And when you say yes, beware, the time zips by faster than ever. But that's what happens when you are having FUN.

With love,
Your happy, fun-lovin' 30-year-old self

Road trips ROCK. I love them. Mom and Dad probably just read that statement and passed out. Road trips as a youngster in the Chevy Impala -- not so fun. For them, or for my two brothers and me squished in the back seat. Maybe because those early road trips were so....um, memorable (??)...road trips now are so fun. Sure the wheels just keep on turnin', but the rest stops, the conversations, and the destinations make it all a good time.

So there we were, Amanda, Tami, and me. Shoving the last bit of stuff into Amanda's trusty Honda Accord, which was weighted down with a bike rack and a U-Haul trailer, ready to roll Amanda's ass up to her new home -- Chicago. The goodie bags filled with chocolate and other sugary sundries were also packed and ready. Let's GO, bee-atches!!

But, let's drop off the cable company's wireless router first. Ok, NOW, we can go. It's 3 PM, and we're bidding adieu to St. Petersburg by heading north up I-275 and I-75. Amanda's pet rabbit, Jackson (Jack), will not cooperate by riding in her jerry-rigged litter box. She will ride like the queen she is by riding...in the back window.


Rock on, little bunny. Just don't pee all over if you get excited. We made a couple of pit stops on our way to our first checkpoint in Tennesee. We had some Subway for dinner, and some McDonald's for fourth meal at 1 AM. Throughout the 12-hour trek, we traded off driving duties. I got the rainy, dark, a traffic-filled shift through Atlanta. Perfect, when a trailer is attached to the back of the sedan. I only made one wrong turn, and I blame the GPS for faulty instructions. I kept right, like you said, lady, and I should have kept from turning off the main highway.

We reached Almaville, TN at 2:30 AM on Friday, and Amanda's dear old friend Jeannie was waiting up for us. I think I remember saying hello before passing out on the couch for the night. The next thing I remember is waking up to the smell of coffee, which is one of the BEST scents in the world! It was a beautiful morning -- sun shining and fluffy clouds, with a hummingbird flitting by the front window -- and we would be spending the next 24 hours here before continuing on to Chicago on Saturday.

Rob and Jeannie are gracious hosts, and they showed the 3 of us around. I love summer in the north! It is so green and the colors so vivid. And the grass!! The real grass!! Again, I was having a little foot orgy in my bare feet on the grass. Right there -- real grass. One of my Top 5 Favorite Things. Feet down.

Later that day, as evening drew close, and after more friends from Cincinnati arrived, we drove to Arrington Vineyards for a picnic dinner. The location is beautiful! On a hillside overlooking the vineyards, you can picnic at the tables there as long as you buy a bottle of wine. And buy we did. The whites went perfectly with our fried chicken dinner and potato salad. We languished as we sipped the last of our bottles and watched the sun set.

After such a restful and enjoyable evening, it was hard to get up the next morning with the knowledge that we had to hit the road. We got a little bit of a late start because we stayed to chat and enjoy a homemade breakfast. Once we were on the road, it was cornfields and horse farms for a very long way through the last sliver of Tennessee and a good chunk of Kentucky. In Louisville, we stopped for "lunch" at White Castle.


OK, here's the thing. I've heard about White Castle before. I had never been there, but I heard the raves, and hell, I saw Harold and Kumar. I thought I was missing something, and I thought that THIS was my moment to experience WHITE. CASTLE.

I was...underwhelmed. Steamed on a bed of onions? Pretty much equals a bland tasting piece of square meat on a tiny bun. Oh well, you can't tell me I didn't try.

We forged on through Indiana, and then, made it to the threshold of Chicago. The tension was palpable. Amanda was at the wheel. I should say that the tension wasn't palpable because Amanda was at the wheel. It was because we were so close to Amanda's new home, and so far from her favorite home. That, and Amanda was at the wheel in an urban setting. SCAAARY!!!

We arrived at Amanda's new lodgings in Hyde Park around 6:30. The unloading of the car and the trailer went relatively smoothly and quickly. Thanks mostly due to the brawn that showed up -- Josh, Mr. Wallace, and Mr. Shadduck -- we moved boxes up 3 flights of wooden stairs and through tight spaces with relative ease. Amanda and I, after a lovely deep dish pizza made in a wood-fired oven, began setting up her new apartment. Our adrenaline took us all the way to 12:30 AM.

The next morning, we took our time starting our day before returning the U-Haul. Once returned, we made our way to the Navy Pier for some sightseeing. My local resident friend, Erik, came to meet us for lunch and a walk around Millennium Park, where we saw....the Bean. That infamous piece of tourist art that provides no end of amusement and distorted reflections. I'll let you enjoy our day, just as we did, in photos:




I loved every moment of my time in Chicago, and I know Amanda is going to take to her new home like a duck to water. Sure, winter is going to blow frozen monkey chunks, but that's only for 8 months. The rest of the time -- it will be gravy. I definitely am going back to visit because 24 hours was not long enough. There is still so much more to do and see. Wrigley Field! Hot dogs! Oprah? Maybe not, but I still haven't wandered the waterfront drunk in the middle of the night, and I still haven't been in a parade singing "Twist and Shout." Next time, Amanda, next time. We're doing the town up right.

Again, I meant to post this earlier, but August really got a away from me. I'm playing catch up now.

Back in early August, I got a chance to play with the cool kids on Lake Seminole, which is right here in Pinellas County. After picking up supplies (subs, drinks) and gassing up the boat, we loaded into the boat and motored away from the ramp. The lake is pretty big, as lakes outside of Finger Lakes and Great Lakes country go, and is separated into two parts. The back lake area is smaller, more residential, and shallower. You could stand up, with your head out of water, if you didn't mind the mucky goodness of the lake bed sucking at your feet. There may have been gators in there, too, but I didn't see them (and I didn't look too hard).

Dan was the first one up on the wakeboard once we got all situated in the boat. He showed the rest of us rookies how it was done. [Note to my cousin Kyra: I am pretty sure we were following all the rules included in your how-to manual.] Jen, a wakeboarding novice, if not virgin, was up next -- and in only a few tries. Making it look so easy, Jacob thought he would have no problem. Not so. Thus, the wakeboard was benched for a bit, and the tube was inflated. I jumped on board the tube and held on for dear life. This isn't your Daddy taking you around the lake for a nice ride! Tubing is akin to the mechanical bull -- you're hoping to get your 8 seconds! I held my own, but the tube, my fellow tube rider, and the lake all left their mark on me. I nearly lost my suit in there somewhere, too. Note to self: put on the rashguard prior to rash-giving and suit-taking activities.

The tube was put away as we motored back toward the larger, main lake. The wakeboard was brought back out for another go. Carl gave his most valiant efforts, but never quite got the brass ring. I gave it my best shot, and nearly made it to upright (SO CLOSE); however, I never quite made it either. I blame my vice grip on the tube (and subsequent tossing from the tube) for reducing my strength. I just didn't have any oomph left. Jacob finally got upright and moved forward a few feet before getting dunked again. We just left him for dead and took off for home after that...


Seriously?! That last part would never happen. We all made it home alive, and gator-bite free. I definitely was sore for a couple of days after our playtime on the lake, but it was worth it. It was one helluva a beautiful day in Florida and a great day to be out on the water.

Last month, after a year away from my heart's true home, I returned to the 1000 Islands in Northern NY. Yet again, it was a quick and dirty trip that should have been for more than just an extended weekend. Unfortunately, I haven't earned enough vacation time from work to give the St. Lawrence River a suitable chunk of my time. Regardless, US Airways got me to Syracuse in record time; a remarkable feat, considering I connected via Philadelphia, which is rated one of 2009's Top 5 Worst Airports in America. Ange was there to pick me up, and we stayed overnight in Syracuse before heading north up 81 in the morning.

Day 1
As per tradition, Ange and I motored up the great 81 North to Alexandria Bay, where we met up with Aunt Charlotte. As I waited for her to out of the resort office to the front desk, I overheard her co-worker say, "You're right. She does look just like Kyra." Kyra is the 6-foot-tall, red-headed daughter of my Aunt, and she's about 6 years younger than me. Perhaps the Fountain of Youth water IS working...I'll take that statement as a sign that Kyra looks older than me, which is why I look like her! Aunt Charlotte treated us ladies to a lovely lunch overlooking the main channel and Boldt Castle at the Captain's Landing. My taco salad was bigger than my head, and barely looked as if I put a dent in it by the end of the meal. My tummy just ain't got room for a half of head of lettuce, regardless of how good it all tasted!

After lunch, Ange and I poked around downtown while we waited for our friend Cheryl to meet us, along with her two boys. Once they arrived, we tried to catch up while leading the boys on an exploration of downtown. We checked out the boats, the fish, the docks, the puddles (oh yes, the oh-so-splashable puddles), the oversized chess board, and the shops. All of this was fueled by a generous dose of ice cream (mmmmmm! ice cream!!) from the Lil' River Fudge Co. I had the vanilla oatmeal cookie ice cream, and damn, was it delicious. The fudge from there is fantastic, as well, especially the Butterfinger chocolate fudge. So. Good.

Late in the afternoon, Ange and I finally headed over to base camp -- Auntie C's homestead in Fishers Landing. We stopped into Uncle Ron's wood boat restoration shop to let him know the estrogen had arrived for the weekend, then we headed inside to settle in for the weekend. Aunt Charlotte followed shortly behind with a feast for dinner. Wine, of course, for happy hour. Then, for dinner: fettuchine alfredo and baked zucchini, cut length-wise and topped with herbs, shrimp, and feta cheese. Phenomenal. Seriously tasty stuff, and more of it than we could eat in one sitting. The four of us chatted until exhaustion, then headed to bed sated and happy.

Day 2
As much as I want to sleep in on vacation, it never seems to happen. I should be used to it by now, as I have always been the first to rise, even after a late night out on the town. 8:30 is my natural wake-up setting, unless perhaps the room is blacked out. At least on vacation, my mornings can be leisurely and as pokey as I want. Around 10, Ange and I headed over to Clear Lake where Cheryl and her family rented a camp. When we arrived, her two boys were in fishing mode, and the rest of us were waiting to see if rain would appear. It seemed safe to head out on the boat to tour around the lake. Cheryl's parents, Cheryl, her two boys (Chase and Cy), Ange, and I piled into the powerboat and took off for the other side. We saw a HUGE turtle, and it nearly hit the boat. Then, it started to rain. We blasted back to the dock, and I felt every pin drop of rain as it zinged into my face on the way back. At least it was warm out.

We had lunch at camp with Cheryl's family, and I rough and tumbled with Chase for a bit. Those boys are ALL energy, all the time. Shocking, I know. After lunch, Ange and I headed back to Alex Bay to catch our 2:00 Uncle Sam Boat Tour to Singer Castle on Dark Island. I've done the Boldt Castle tour several times over recent years, and this was one tour I had yet to do. The castle just opened to tours in the last 5 or 6 years. Plus, it required a 2 hour boat ride out there, which I love. I just crave time out on the actual River when I am up there, and this was a great, relaxing way to do that. The weather cleared, too, in just enough time for the tour. It was gorgeous the whole rest of the afternoon.

On our way downriver to the castle, we saw a saltie (a container ship that plies both the freshwater of the Great Lakes Waterway and the open ocean):



And on our way upriver, after touring the castle, we saw a laker (a container ship that only transits the freshwater of the Great Lakes Waterway):



Singer Castle gives off quite the grand impression as you approach it:


Five floors. 30 rooms. A grass tennis court. And enclosed squash court. A mega boathouse. And Singer called it a hunting shack. Right. What the hell is my 500 square foot apartment, then? A freaking hovel, is what! While the interior was impressive -- rooms with beautiful views and cross-breezes -- I was more enamored with the garden.

REAL GRASS!
I salivate over REAL GRASS. Here in Florida, the grass is crap -- it looks like crab grass. It is course and itchy; and it's a veritable minefield filled with fire ants. I am either loved or hated by fire ants. When they attack me, I swell to amazing proportions. And it hurts! And I become whiny (just like I am now). And then the bites start to weep and ooze. It's not pretty. And now, I am afraid of grass. I had to mentally check myself while at the River to myself that the grass was lovely, soft, and safe. Oh, my tootsies LOVED to cool, soft grass. You really DON'T know what you have until it is gone. For serious. Mmmm, real grass. I'm having a moment here...

Moment over...and back to the show. Singer Castle. Yes, it was a lovely display of wealth. You can stay overnight in the Royal Suite, which sleeps 6, not including the "friendly" ghosts that haunt the place. Oh, there are stories, and I would rather not hear them. Ghost stories FREAK. ME. OUT. Don't know why, but they just make me feel icky. Let's focus on the pretty, instead:






Refreshing views from a hunting shack, right? Well, the tour hustles you through the house and grounds in about 45 minutes before shuttling you back onto the boat, so catch it while you can! We reached Alex Bay around 5:30 or so, stopped into say Hey to our hostess, Auntie C., then motored back to Fishers Landing for happy hour on the porch.

For the second year in a row, Ange brought the game meat for our dinnertime enjoyment. This night: baked trout with lemon garlic marinade and fresh rosemary and thyme. On the side, leftovers from the night before, and my God, it was delicious. Dessert was some cookies bought from Gals on Route 12. Again, we went to bed fat and happy, ready for another day of vacation.

Day 3
This is about when full vacation mode kicks in -- you're feeling relaxed, happy, and on the way to recharged. Again, I was up around 8:30 because I don't know any other way. After a lazy start, Ange and I decided to meet up with Cheryl (sans sons) for breakfast in Alex Bay at The Dancing Dog. Who knew a bar could do double duty as a breakfast joint. The grilled cinnamon roll was all the convincing I needed!! Over a huge breakfast, we caught up on girl talk and lamented our lack of more opportunities to get together. I'm still working on teleportation...

After breakfast, Ange and I made our way towards Clayton for some shopping and touring about town. We stopped at all the usual shops, and picked up some kick ass cheese from River Rat Cheese. Bacon Horseradish Cheddar Cheese, anyone?!? Oh, HELLOOO!! Needless to say, that was gone in a blink of an eye when we busted it out with the crackers before dinner.

Before checking out of Clayton, Ange and I hit up the brand spanking new winery -- Coyote Moon. New fact: Ange likes the fruitiest freakin' wine out there. I mean FRUITY. I learned that I like it dry, dry, dry and out of the oakey barrel. I bought two bottles of the Chardonnay, thinking I would take one home (in my temporary amnesia about the TSA regulations for liquids on board airplanes). The extra bottle stayed behind, but I know it was well loved by Auntie C.

As with any great vacation, Ange and I got tired from our midday excursion, and we came back to read, relax, and nap. This evening's dinner would be spent over on the island where Uncle Ron's parents have a cottage. We grilled up Ange's venison kielbasa and ate the living daylights out of the bacon horseradish cheese. We also drained the Coyote Moon chardonnay. I call that responsible drinking. It is our responsibility to leave no drop behind in the bottle or at the bottom of the glass!! Dessert was the lovely view:



A little gray, but lovely nonetheless. The top photo is the view of Fineview over on Wellesley Island, and the pale green boathouse in the center is the house my family and I stayed at last year. The bottom photo is of the main channel, and the channel marker has a small shrub growing on it. All it needs is a rock and another piece of vegetation and it technically could qualify as an island. Island number 1,801 coming right up!!

Day 4
Poop. I must head home. The start south down 81 is always a freaking bummer. I get so sad!! At least this year, I did have lunch with a very dear old friend of mine to look forward to!! I haven't seen Steph in 3 or 4 years (I lost count), and I swear it didn't seem like that was the case either before or after my visit with her. I have known her since I was 3, and we always manage to pick right up where we left off the last time we spoke. It is amazing to have such friends in this world. Ridiculously, I neglected to a photo of the two of us together. Who knows when we might see each other again!! Hopefully, next summer, although, Europe is on the docket for 2010.
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Trip Tally:
Number of Singer sewing machines in the castle: at least 6
Number of cliffs jumped: 0 (Goal is to jump 1 next time)
Number of bottles of wine kicked: um...3, 4...5?
Number of times it rained: at least once a day