Sarah Too

It is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, and my traditional Catholic upbringing has me feeling reflective, contemplative, and introspective. I listened to an episode of one of the podcasts I have in regular rotation, and this passage from "The Next Right Thing" slowed down my heart, welled up my eyes, and had me exhale in deep recognition of it's universal truth.

"In the meantime, let’s remember this together. The goal of our lives, isn’t to be the most productive humans we can possibly be. The goal, the aim, is union with God and connection with each other. Our hearts beat for the kingdom, to join God in the restoration and renewal of all things. Because we are not people who believe this world will disappear and be irrelevant. We are people who believe the good, creative, life-giving work we do everyday can actually make a difference. We’re not trying to change the world -- Jesus already did that. Instead, we are joining him with our unique place, gifting, and personalities to bring hope and healing into the quiet, broken, chaotic, small, beautiful corners of our everyday lives."

Take or leave the God stuff if it's not your bag (I certainly skim right over it), but the heart of this passage bears our shared human truth. Humans are made for connection. Brene Brown has the data points to back up that fact. And the small, daily acts of love, kindness, and consideration we perform make up our lives. In their accumulation, they make a difference. YOU make a difference. And that last sentence sums up so completely why you make a difference.

"...to bring hope and healing into the quiet, broken, chaotic, small, beautiful corners of our everyday lives."

That passage inspired me to forward it to a few of my friends that I knew would appreciate it. It also moved to me to send a word or two of encouragement and love to some people I knew needed to hear it. Those loved ones were of course women and mothers who are immersed in life-giving work every minute of the day -- in service to children of their own, to students, to significant others, to passions and causes that shape their lives. Women who give me so much hope and encouragement when I am feeling overwhelmed and broken.

Take a moment today and remember your gifts, your talents, your light. Then share it with a friend, a stranger, a human in need of some light. Because who you are, where you are, and what you have is enough to make a difference. No hustle required.

Our Tiny House

I have to admit I wasn't looking forward to this year's summer break from school. I feared I was in for 2 1/2 months of constant bickering between my boys. I haven't loved tiny house living either. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and I find myself full of absolute gratitude for the summer the boys and I have had.

My mind is a blur of thought these days. In October of last year, I made the decision to quit coaching CrossFit and stay home full time to care for Bman (and grow increasingly larger during the last months of my pregnancy with our second child). It was a sea change for me. When I confirmed my pregnancy around this time last year, it was a relief and a terror. Relief that the Mister and I no longer needed to debate whether to have a second child. Terror that we were about to upset the "new normal" we fought so hard to establish after the birth of Bman. Neither of these feelings is revolutionary or unique to us as parents.

It is hard to keep up this guy lately as he continues expanding his skill set each week! Plus, this kid never. stops. moving! As of last week, he added walking to his repertoire. I'm thinking he will skip strolling along and go right to running - just like his Daddy.

Needless to say, each month is more fun than the last as Bman's personality grows. Here are some more recent videos, starting with Easter weekend.

The snow is falling softly and the house is quiet as my baby boy tries to nap. I spent last night trying to recall how I celebrated the ringing in of a new years past as my baby slept and the Mister helped our athletes sweat in 2014 at the gym.

Memories of Marion Street, Halloween, and Best Pals

I LOVE CHRISTMAS!! One of my favorite parts of the season has ALWAYS been THE TREE. I decorated the family tree nearly every year growing up. I love the process of unwrapping each ornament, recalling the memories attached to it, and finding the perfect spot for each one on the tree.

It's that time of year again -- when we look back at where we went, and look ahead to where we think we will go. Despite calling 2012 "The Year of Nothing," in which I set no goals other than "maintain the status quo" because of all the changes that came during 2011, this year managed to sneak in some new achievements.

I wanted to write this post for the last month! Life way got in the way of those plans, however, and I'm hoping this Labor Day Weekend I can play catch up.

At the end of July, The Mister and I joined the Mister’s clan for a family reunion on the Oregon Coast, and it was a week filled with family, fun, and adventure. Our trip started on a Saturday with a drive up to St. Paul, MN. The Mister flew stand-by, so in our planning it made more sense to fly out of St. Paul – that way he would have more options for getting out to Portland during these busy summer vacation months. I had a paid ticket with Southwest. More on that situation, later.

As the year winds down and we reflect on our own lives and on the collective lives of the world, may you find hope and inspiration for a new year in the following, which was written by my amazing and creative Mom. Thank you for your beautiful mind and unending spirit, Mom! I love this!

A Poem for the New Year By M.A. Heberling

My dear friend said 2009 would be the year of joy. She was somehow clairvoyant. 2009 graced me with many blessings. Those many moments of joy would not have been possible without all of you -- my amazing friends and family that inspire me daily. I hope the holidays find all of you counting your own blessings. I count you among mine, and I hope that 2010 beings much more laughter than tears, more hopes than fears, and many unexpected joys. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

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.

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

Impulsively, I felt May needed to be kicked off in style, so I headed on up to Brooklyn to visit with Brother and Wife. This impulse nicely coincided with the momentous occasion of my dear old friend's 30th Birthday. I'm never really in need of a reason to celebrate, but a birthday works nicely, don't you think. As per usual, I landed at JFK late, late, late on Friday night, which shall we just call it Saturday morning?? I think we shall. JFK has a nasty habit of tardiness, regardless of whether one is coming or going. Noel and Amy were kind enough to let me forgo the beautiful NY subway by coming to pick me up in the White Knight -- the Jetta. Noel loves to drive, since getting his Learner's Permit and all (hahaha!!). With a quick change, and a flip of the wall switch, it was bedtime.

Saturday morning brought some sumptuous yum yums my way, after a quick walk around the block to the bakery. Nothing says "Good morning!" like a hot cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant. And nothing screams "New York" like a walk to Brooklyn Industries for some shopping, followed by delicious bloody marys as an appetizer to a delicious early afternoon brunch with Julie and Dave. Brunch, above and beyond breakfast, is my all-time favorite mealtime activity. Screw tapas, forget Early Bird Specials. Brunch is the absolute BEST. Particularly when you are sharing brunch with some of your favorite people. Post-brunch, we all chilled out in preparation for Julie's 30th celebration at Freddy's Bar & Backroom.

Once gathered at Freddy's, we ordered a pizza, which came with individual packets of spices for your individual zesting pleasures and preferences. As we finished up the pizzas, we noticed a band of middle-aged, community college professor/high school teacher-types setting up their equipment. Things did not look good. What kind of "entertainment" were we in for on this Saturday night? Would we be forced from Freddy's Backroom, and up to the Bar? Would we have to abandon the pizza?? The suspense was killing us (see Exhibit A, below)

Exhibit A: Death-inducing suspense

And so, the Band of Middle-Aged White Men began playing. We remained unsure. Where was this ditty going. Fast-forward halfway through the set, and the entire backroom is singing along to each song, waving their glasses in the air like they just don't care, and no one wants these guys to stop entertaining us. The lead singer toes the line -- knowing he looks like the absent-minded, tone deaf professor, and knowing that he has us all in the palm of his hand (see Exhibit B, below).


Exhibit B: The Band of Middle-Aged White Men that are more than they appear to be.

Unfortunately, their set ended, and they made way for another band of youngins, which were horribly, and disappointingly dismal. The trio started with a 17th Century song that would depress even the most cheerful of sugar-hyped cheerleaders. Like, major bummer, guys. This band sucked and forced us to abandon ship for the front Bar. Not even inebriation could make that band worth listening to for...at all. Ever.

Our merry group of birthday revelers didn't last much longer into the night, and the first clue that it was time to go might have been when I took a drink from a pint that, after swallowing, I was pretty sure was not even mine to begin with. Alcohol kills everything, right? Even backwash?? Let me believe so, alright?

Sunday brought with it the bright hope of a Yankees game at the new Yankee stadium. Not once had I been to the old stadium. Maybe nothing screams "New York" more than a subway ride and a Yankees game? I think that's an absolute. On the way to the stadium, Noel, Amy, and I prayed the weather cleared up for there to be a game. When we emerged from the subway, our prayers had not yet been answered, as we slogged our way across the street to the stadium entrance.

The new stadium is beautiful and a great park (see Exhibit C, below).

Exhibit C: The *new* Yankee Stadium

Well, after chowing down on fries, hot dogs, hamburgers, shakes, and sodas from Johnny Rockets, the game went from rain delay to postponed. So much for me experiencing the Yankees on their home turf. At least the food was delicious. We waded back across the street to the subway and headed home for some rainy day video games and cable watching.

Cable is a serious luxury to me, as I do not have it at home. And Anthony Bourdain is one of my favorites. I wish I could travel around the world eating like he does. I even think I might be pretty good at it. I guess if you see this blog turn into something more than just musings about my piddly domestic (and sometimes international) travels, then you know I've quit my safe government job and headed off into the great wide open, seeking out tomorrow's most delectable eats in a far off place.

That night, Noel and Amy hosted a delicious dinner right at home, with Julie and Dave as guests. And game night began. This is the part I love about visits with family and friends -- the joking conversation over good food and fun games. There isn't much more I love in this world than my favorite people gathered around a table, enjoying each other over life's simplest pleasures -- food, wine (or beer), and laughter. It was a great send off, as my return flight home had me rising at 4 AM, and arriving at the office at noon-thirty.

Early mornings are not my forte (as evidenced by my Machu Picchu experience, see June last year). Thus, the 4 AM wake-up call almost had me leaving my glasses at the Noel-Amy homestead. Fortunately, I remembered before the car service even got to the end of the block. Additionally, I found that I REALLY hate cable news. Why does CNN/MSNBC/FoxNews have to be on EVERY TV at the airport, feeding such hyperbolic BS into the minds of the American people??? And why do so many talking heads need to be on TV when none of them say ANYTHING of relevance or import? It blows my mind. The soundbites I heard through my early morning dozing on the terminal bench had me cringing, and praying that some child took a BB gun to the damn TV before I got up and wrenched it off the wall. Maybe this is just a by-product of not having cable. If I did have it, I may have built up some sort of immunity to the yackity yack yack of cable news. Or not. Regardless, I made it home without delay, but still feeling like I needed more time away. Thanks goes out to Noel, Amy, Julie, and Dave, though, for being such great hosts in the great city of New York. New York never feels big or overwhelming when you've got great people there making it feel like you are coming home.

Christmas is one of my most favorite of seasons. The carols, the colors, the decorations, and the food all energize me as I decide how to show all my favorite people that I love them, miss them, and think of them more than they can know - whether through gifts, cards, or visits. Each year since my parents moved from the DC-metro area, Christmas is a travel adventure for the whole family. One year in New York, another in Philadelphia, and now, it seems, the tradition is settling in San Diego (at least for me) as families grow and airfares climb in price.

I never thought I would see the day that I spent Christmas without cold, gray skies, and snow. And if I had thought that, I don't think I would envision myself saying that I don't miss the snow! Because I don't. Christmas spent on or near the beach, which is covered with a white grainy substance that I consider just as festive as snow, is infinitely better than Christmas spent huddled indoors with little or no sunshine.

This year, I took six days to travel out to the parental homestead in Oceanside, which is about 45 minutes north of San Diego. As soon as I landed, Ma and Pa whisked me off to the San Diego zoo where we saw prairie dogs (one of my favs), polar bears, pandas (!!), pumas, flamingos, koalas (another fav), and warthogs. As it was Christmas Eve, and kind of cool and rainy, there were very few people at the zoo, allowing us to see the in-demand pandas, chewing on bamboo from their perches in the trees. I think I wouldn't mind coming back as a panda living in captivity. Other than being on display for much of the day, it's a rather pampered lifestyle. After getting our fill of "wild" animals, we trucked North to the homestead for dinner and puzzles and settling in for the night.

On Christmas morning, there were the usual gift wrapped surprises, which are my mother's favorite part of the whole year. She just loves seeing our faces as we take in her thoughtful choices for each of us. The entire rest of the day was spent lounging, reading, watching movies, holding down the couch, doing puzzles, eating baked goods, and feasting on roasted turkey with twice-baked potatoes. Gotta love the home cookin' from Mom!!

The day after Christmas, we skipped the malls, and drove up to Crystal Cove, which is just south of Huntington Beach. I love going to the beach in California because it is so different from the beaches in Florida, and even the beaches of the Atlantic Coast. The waves are more powerful, the water so cold, and the nearshore creatures are different. In CA, there is kelp instead of seagrass. There are rocky outcrops instead of a wide, shallow, sandy shelf. In CA, you walk with shoes and socks because the sand is cold; you wear a windbreaker because the air is brisk, and you pack a camera so you can capture it all...





How can you not love that scenery!! While I often find it hard to have my family scattered across the lower 48, and wish that we had more occasion to get us all together in the same city, I also love that every family visit includes new sites, sounds, and places. From visiting the great tourist traps of the Big Apple and the City of Brotherly Love, to feeling the warm Southern California sun, I find our family's quality time together is only heightened by these shared experiences. And even though this Christmas had my immediate family separated by thousands of miles, I still felt everyone's presence as we recounted our Christmas mornings over the phone and opened delivered packages. A big thank you goes out to Ma and Pa for hosting another wonderful holiday, which left me rested and ready to ring in another year!!

After a week of coral research overload and hob-knobbing, I flew towards my most favorite place in the world - The 1000 Islands of the St. Lawrence River in Northern NY. For a few days I was living on River time in my true hometown with good friends and my family. My parents rented a fantastic cottage with a huge screened-in porch overlooking the main U.S. shipping channel on the south side of Wellesley Island.

Our days were filled with reading, relaxing, games, good food, and much laughter. My best friend provided us with brown lake trout and venison sausage as a basis for my brother's culinary masterpieces. The rented house provided us with board games like Trivial Pursuit and Password. And the River provided us with many hours of entertainment and peaceful contemplation.

Even after all these years, the ships moving up and down the channel still give me a thrill. I still wonder what is on board, and I still take note of whether the ship is riding high or low in the water.


Our first day at the cottage was HOT and cause for us all to jump into the "refreshingly cool" River. After floating the 86 degree salty Atlantic Ocean, the 72 degree freshwater River was small shock to the system, but it felt so good! That is of course, if you keep moving when you first jump in (there is no wading)...

The second day was a bit more...temperate, with rain showers all through the night and through a good part of the day. We visited the Boldt Yacht House, and Boldt Castle. I saw the Castle last year, and there always seems to be something new to see each time I visit. The skies finally cleared in the late afternoon, so the girls took at walk over to T.I. Park. After a little playtime on the see-saw and the swings, it was time for cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.

My last full day was filled with a lazy morning, then an afternoon jaunt to Cape Vincent and Clayton. Tibbett's Point lighthouse is always a favorite, as is the newish favorite -- the Lyric Coffee House in Clayton. For dinner, we ate out (since we demolished the trout and venison sausage). I had a delicious stuffed-chicken dish at Hacker's at the Thousand Island Country Club. Our table could have been less "plastic fold-out with inconveniently-placed legs," but the food was fantastic, as was the sunset.

In the morning, I had to leave. After two weeks on the road, work and my day-to-day life were beckoning. I didn't want to leave my friends or family, though. It was so nice to spend time with them all, and I didn't want it to end. It was a tough ride to the Syracuse airport, as my best friend and I tried to enjoy remaining time together. It had been a year since we last saw each other and I dreaded that my departure meant another year would go by before our next visit...