A run on guns...

Here's your interesting factoid for the day: gun dealers cannot get AR-15 rifles.

Huh?

Apparently, the general public has gotten so frightened by president-elect Obama, and his extreme anti-gun policies, that the factories that make these weapons are unable to keep up with the demand.



What will become of our Second Amendment, and its "negative liberties" under the Obama regime?



Only time will tell.

Dear Kauaiian Diary

NOTE: I will be editing, spell checking, and filling in names, photos, and other details later on. :O) As for now, here's my personal notes to remember our visit.

Stay tuned...

Kaui Vacation 2008

Friday June 20:
Good flight from P. to Honolulu; probably the smoothest take-off and landing that I’ve ever experienced. Both kids were excellent on the plane ride. Chubber got a little grumy toward the end of the first 5 hour leg, but B. took him up and down the aisle a few times and it seemed to help a lot. The short, 30 minute, flight from Honolulu to Lihue was also very smooth, in spite of the fact that we were on a very small aircraft.
Rented a Chevrolet Impala SS (B’s choice), and was amazed that the trunk comfortably accomodated all of our luggage (1 large suitcase, 1 small suitcase, 1 wheeled carry on case, 2 backpacks, 1 large dive bag, 1 computer briefcase, 1 DVD carrying case, and a partridge in a pear tree).
Drove through the 'Tunnel of Trees'--a naturally formed tunnel made by gigantic trees that arch over the road--to Poipu (Po'ipu) to get to our lodgings. Found our condominium with minimal trouble (we got lost once). It is a beautiful condo with 2 bedrooms, small living room, dining area, kitchen, 2 bathrooms and laundry closet. From the front balcony porch and master bedroom we have stunning views of the ocean and the mountains. There is no a/c, however with the windows open the ‘trade winds’ blow a strongly enough that it keeps us cool and comfortable.
After settling in, we went to the pool and swam for an hour or so. The kids had a blast, and we had fun too. Interestingly enough we were talking to a man who was at the pool, and through our conversation we discovered that he lives in Ocala, FL and was born in Williston. What a small world! I explained to him that Aunt J lives in Williston, and that S comes from a town called Wacahoota (sp?) and whatnot. The man’s name was L. C., and after we left the pool and called Dad and S, we were able to discover that Mr. C did in fact know S’s family. Again, what are the odds of running into someone from such a small part of the world that we have ties with? I think the chances of winning the Lottery is more likely.
Had dinner at a place called ‘Breneke’s’ that B loved from his first time to Kaui. Nice little open air restaurant, rather spendy, but as we’re discovering: everything in Kaui is expensive.
After dinner walked over to Breneke beach, where as the Kids and I were walking to the playground we discovered a toad hopping in the grass. Kai and Lani both loved seeing him hope along, and I had a tough time keeping them from touching it (I figured it was poisonous like the frogs/toads in Florida). After a short 10 minutes or so at the play structure, we walked over to the surf to watch the sun go down. As we were walking along B and Chub came upon the tiniest of sand crabs—no bigger than a quarter’s diamater. We all had a pleasant walk, barefoot, in the surf and sand.
What a lovely first day in Kaui.

Saturday, June 21:
Woke up at 3am sharp. Wide awake and ready to start my day. Too bad we needed to sleep another 3 hours to make getting up decent. The kids suffered from jet-lag, too. Had a tough time getting them to go back down to bed (including a poop-on-the-floor incident (yuck!)), but eventually they conceeded to play quietly in their room.

Enjoyed a lovely sunrise from the front porch, followed by coffee and breakfast outside, too. Before the kids got up as I was going inside for a refill of my coffee I noticed something little on the carpet. I thought it was a dead, dried-out lizard, but when I got down close to look at it, it was a tiny little gecko! B was so surprised, as he’d never seen on so little before. Me, being who I am, told B to grab a cup from the kitchen so we could scoop the little thing up and show it to the kids. Both kids loved seeing the tiny creature. We let them each hold it in their hand. Even in the kids’ hands it looked tiny—it was about a ½ centimeter wide and maybe an inch and a half long. We’re having so much fun with all the wildlife here in the islands, an enjoying seeing the kids’ sense of wonder and their joy in the simplest of things. I imagine when they are asked what their favorite part about Hawaii was they’ll no doubt say: “the chickens, the baby gecko, and the frog!”
Started the morning searching for the elusive Foodmart that Mr. C told us about (best food prices in the vicinity). En route took a detour down a road to see a waterfall [find name of waterfall from photos taken]. While viewing the waterfall, saw an ancient Hawaiian [prayer sacrifice alter place]. The kids weren’t impressed with

either feature, but sure did have a blast chasing the wild chickens and their chicks. Tried to see { } arborateum, but the road into the actual facility was flooded, and was impassible in a car—though did see a few trucks ‘ford’ the road. The scenery was absolutely amazing. As we climbed up the road and into the lower mountains you could physically detect a change in climate: it changed from beachy type conditions into bonified jungle—humid, close, and about 10 degrees cooler. I am at a loss for words to actually do any justice to describing the lush vegetation. My photographs will have to do the talking.
Finally got round to Foodland. It was similar in prices to the Safeway or Roth’s stores on the mainland. Expensive, but in comparison to some of the closer local shops (Foodland was in W-I [check town name from map North of Lihue]. The local food shops listed a gallon of milk at over $8, whereas Foodland had it for $5. I picked up a ‘club card’ to get the ‘local’ prices. We left $103 lighter in the pocketbook, but I believe we have enough food for breakfast, lunch, and most dinners to eat at home. The cost of eating out is so expensive as to be prohibitive.

It is now 3:20pm, and we have finished our simple lunch of sandwiches, chips, grapes, and water. Well, all of us except Chubbers. Mr. Andersen has been asserting his “two-ness” to the Nth degree for the past week. As soon as he decides to eat ONE single grape, we will be off to Poipu beach. That is how I have time to write right now, Chub is being stubborn, and I’m taking advantage of the down-time. I do hope he decides to eat soon. I really want to go play at the beach!
Finally won. Chublet ate not only one, but two grapes! Went swimming at Brenneke beach. Came home, ate bbq burgers, rice and had chocolate ice cream. Went for a walk over to the Kaui Poipu Grand Hyatt. BEAUTIFUL grounds. Spent 2+ hours. Saw little girls do hula show.

Sunday June 22:
Going to try out church in HI. Interesting service, very contemporary and the kids loved going to the nursery.
Waimea Canyon—see pictures. Picnic in Waimea canyon (PS: don't you just love that guy's butt? Yeah. Me too. Makes it look so classy).

Went to Kaui Coffee Company tour, very cool. Learned a lot about coffee, including that 60% of the WORLD’S coffee comes from Kaui Coffee. Then went to the Salt Pond park, outside of Hanapepe. A lot of fun, full of locals. Big fat undertow, but nobody got swept out to sea.
Came back into town and had dinner at Poipu Beach Broiler—great food, expensive price. For two ‘bar menu’ dinners, one kids meal, an orange juice, and two Mai Tais (plus tip) we were out $50. OUCH!
Then a relaxing evening at home, as we were all bushed.

Monday June 23:
A relaxing day. Visited Kilohana (meaning: unsurpassed) Plantation. In its heyday it was the most expensive and extravagant home in all of Kauai. It was built in the 1930’s by sugar tycoon George Wilcox for his wife, who wanted a house as fancy as any that could be found in Hollywood. In its day 40,000 acres of sugarcane was planted and harvested by the 12 hour work day. Today, the estate is still run by family members but is only a fraction of that. They no longer harvest sugar cane (interesting fact about sugar cane: it takes one whole 6’ tall cane to produce only one tablespoon of sugar), but instead harvest fruits and plants for botanical spa products. We chose to tour the plantation via plantation train. Chub and Peanut loved it! It was a fun way to see a smidgen of what plantation life looked like ‘back in the day.’ To this day, some people who work on the plantation still live in the original plantation ‘shacks’ (small homes) that were used by the original workers.
Inside of Kilohana there is one room (living room) restored to its former lavish glory, with the remainder of the interior open to the public to enjoy: an expensive restaurant called Gaylord’s (think $25+ per plate), and various artisan shops selling Kauai made products.
After visiting Kilohana, we tried to find the Alakoko Menehune Fish Pond. Call us lame or crazy, we found a beautiful lookout point, but no success in actually finding the swimming area of the pond. So, we went, instead, to Nawiliwili Beach to play in the ocean and dig in the sand. It never ceases to amaze me just how content the children can be to simply dig in the sand. They can dig for 45 minutes or more without stopping. Our trip to the beach ended when mother nature decided it was time to water the vegetation (rain). But, that was OK since the kiddies were getting tired, us too.
After a morning at the beach and a nice nap for the kiddies we went to the condo’s pool to splash and play. It was absolutely delicious: the air was warm and humid and the pool was cool and refreshing. Sometimes it is just perfect to hang around ‘home.’




Tuesday June 24:
Went into Lihue to do some shopping. No visit to Hawaii, at least for our family, is complete without a trip to Hilo Hattie’s to get ripped off buying a Hawaii shirt. We spent about an hour or so looking around, and managed to find goodies to take home to family and friends as well as ‘outfits’ for each of us (at 40% discount, whoo hoo!) to wear for our evening’s festivities—a Luau!
Headed out to Wailua around 4pm to go to the requisite Luau. How can you possibly come to Hawaii and not go to a Luau? You can’t. So, we chose to check out the Smith Family Garden Luau. Interesting fact: by booking though ‘Activity Warehouse’ we saved about $130 on our Luau over booking through Smith’s itself. Weird, huh?
Smith’s Luau? Yes, Smith. I don’t suppose you could get any more English of a name if you tried, but we gave it a shot anyway. The grounds boast 30 acres of lush tropical gardens, ranging from local Hawaiian plant varieties to Japanese and Philippino. The gardens were spectacular, in a word. Once we were admitted to the grounds we hopped onto a little tram (think tractor pulling wagons with seats) to take us through the gardens with a narration of the plants. It was cool, because we got to learn a lot about different plant varieties, and I got to finally get a name to put to the most interesting plant that I find everywhere here: spider lilly. The kids loved the tram ride, well, because it was a ride and because they got to throw heaping handfulls of birdseed to the myriad of chickens and peacocks. Yep, peacocks. B’s favorite bird—we weren’t terribly impressed with the royal turkeys because of our old neighbor having them and us constantly finding them on our back porch, driveway, roof…. But, the kids sure got a kick out of them. We also were treated since it is mating season, the males had all their plumes fanned out to impress.
The dinner was good. We were seated next to a friendly single-mom family from California whom we talked to at length. She told us some of the tidbits about Kauai that she found helpful and was, in general, a lovely dinner companion. The food was good, although not as good as other Luau’s that we’ve been to (I rated it about a 6 out of 10 in comparaison to the Polynesian Cultural Center’s –-a 10+). There was macaroni salad, cucumber salad, green salad, sweet-n-sour mahi-mahi, Kahlua pig, bbq chicken, fried rice, mashed potatoes, mixed steamed veggies, and, of course, Poi. (blech! If you’ve never had it, think eating purple Elmer’s glue). Following this spread was a fruit/dessert table: mangoes, pineapple (all that Chubb would eat—nothing else), coconut milk jello, coconut white cake, and Peanut’s favorite: rice pudding. We also got to partake in AYCE mai-tais, but after one, I was sufficiently sugared out and turned to coffee.
The dinner show/hula show was decent. There were dances from Japan, China, Philippines, Fiji, New Zealand, Samoa, and Hawaii. Our favorite dances had to be the Fiji men’s and women’s dancing (the fast grass-skirt hip shaking dances—Hawaii’s hula dances do NOT involve grass skirts, that’s from Fiji). But the bes of all was the Samoan Fire Knife Dancing. It is always the best.
Peanut and Chub did pretty good through dinner and the show. Though, by 1/3 of the way through the dancing show Peanut was begging to go home and go ‘night-night.’ Chubbers was absolutely rivited to the dancing the whole show.
Both little kiddies crashed on the way home from the Luau. What a lovely way to end our day.

Wednesday June 25:
Headed out to the beach again, just this time we went to Lydgate Park, just south of Wailua on the East Coast of Kauai. What a great park! It was just perfect for the kids, and B and I managed (with children in innertubes in tow) to get in some snorkeling, too! We saw all sorts of fish, some of the fish we saw were: Unicorn Fish, Needle Fish, Moorish Idol, Eye-Stripe Surgeonfish, Saddleback Wrasse, Yellowfin Goatfish, Bandtailed Goatfish, Ornate Butterfly Fish, Longnosed Butterfly fish, Convict Tang, Seargeant Major, Blue Crevalle among others! Chub cried most of the time we snorkeled, Peanut loved it! She got such a kick out of being the ‘helper’ to hold the rocks and shells we found.
While in the kiddie area Chub-chub was the master of finding little blue crabs (about the size of a mini-bagel). He has the most amazing little eyes! I would likely have never spotted them, but he sure found them easily. It was fun watching this tiny little boy crawling around the rocks and where the breakers hit standing so still, only to discover he had found marine life all on his own.
B has been obsessed with going to this hamburger joint called ‘Bubba Burgers,’ so after leaving Lydgate park we finally indulged his obsession and went to have lunch at the place that touts that “We cheat tourists, drunks, and attorneys” on its sign (pretty creative, if not honest!). The burgers, drinks, fries, onion rings, and a t-shirt (for B) came to $47.50. Ouch! The food was OK, but nothing to write home about. But, at least B’s itch has been scratched.
Then, a quick trip to Foodland for provisions, and back to home. We are just loving the beach and the laid-back atmosphere here. This white girl is getting less white (think: I don’t look like like the milky-bluish color of skim anymore), and Brent…well, another few days and he will be as dark as a local. The kids? I’ve been doing well by them with the SPF 50 (they have a tiny bit of a tan, and no burn!).

5 years old...

Dear Peanut,

I can hardly believe it, you're 5 years old today. Five, as of 2:53pm.

We've already had quite a few adventures. I've learned so much from you, about you, and even more about me. I had no idea all those years ago just how drastically my life would change. The cliche is that once you have a baby 'normal' ceases to be. It is also said that it takes about a year to 'recover' from having a baby. Well, baby, I'm still recovering, and I know that my life will certainly never be the same.

On that glorious April day so long ago, you were forced into this big old world earlier than any of us imagined, nearly a month premature. The doctors watched my pregnancy with you as carefully as any other mommy-to-be's. Everything went just about as you would expect. I felt sick and miserable the first few months after you made your presence known. Then, life started to 'normalize' again, and I felt better. In fact, we were cruising along at quite a good clip. I got a new job, and your daddy and I moved to a strange new city, all alone, and looking forward to the adventure that was to be you.

Then, about 7 months into my pregnancy, the doctors spotted some abnormalities: you weren't growing. You were so tiny. I had to go on bed rest, and the doctor considered putting me into the hospital to rest, in order to keep you safe. It turned out you had a condition called 'intra-uterine growth restriction (retardation)'. It meant that for reasons unknown you just stopped growing the way you should. Because of this, the doctors decided that you could 'cook' inside of me no more: it was time for your eviction. Should you stay inside of me any longer, the chances of you surviving got smaller and smaller, and we'd hoped and prayed for you and wanted you so badly, that just couldn't be. So, your introduction to the world was scheduled: you would be born on April 28, 2003.

And so you were.

I labored to give birth to you for exactly 5 hours and 23 minutes. I pushed for a total of 10 minutes, and two pushes until you came out. You see, the doctor was worried about your little heart and all the stress that being born would put on you, so she told me that we were going to have to have you via cesarean delivery. I would have done anything to protect you, and the doctor knew it. I think she saw the silent tears slide down my cheeks, she saw I was so worried and scared for you, that she said to me, "you're going to have this baby right now. Now push!" And so I did, and so you were born.

You were such a tiny little thing! Only 5 pounds 12 ounces, but so long--19.5". You breathed right away and I heard your tiny little mewling cries, and I knew we'd be OK.

Your first days in this world were tough: You wouldn't eat, and you had jaundice so badly you were as yellow as a squash. You had to sleep under bilirubin lights (like a tanning bed!) to help your little body break down the excess iron in your system, and we had to measure what you ate in cc's (that was to be the way of it for the next few months, you so disliked eating!).

Your daddy and I drove you home, all by ourselves, and walked into our tiny little home thinking to ourselves, "oh my. What do we do now?" Life was pretty hard. We were all alone in a new city with nobody to help us and nobody to call to ask advice. Our introduction to being your new parents was a real trial by fire. It is by the grace of God alone that we made it.

Both your daddy and I were out of work by the time you were 2 months old, and so your daddy went to school to learn to drive commercial trucks. Soon, he was done with school, and headed out on his new career. It was hard for us, because your daddy was gone for as much as a month at a time, and it was just you and I; no family and few friends. It is a wonder to me, as I look back, how we ever made it at all. I suppose it was due to how stubborn you and your mommy are.

Time has gone at such an erratic pace over these years. We struggled with you every day. Your little body was so weak, and you were so tired all the time, you didn't make your 'milestones' when you should. I took you to a big city, an hour's drive away, to the physical therapist's office, to help you learn to roll over, sit, crawl, and eventually at 17 months of age, to walk. It was a long and emotional journey.

As a baby, you hardly made a sound, and you didn't much care to be held. I always thought it was because I did something wrong, or that you were rejecting me on some level. It left me with many 'hard' feelings. But, we learned why you acted this way much later on.

You didn't talk when you were 'supposed' to talk, so we took you to doctors and specialists to try and help you out. You didn't talk until you were about 3.5 years old! And, when you did talk it was only your mommy who could understand you.

It turned out the reason why you didn't talk, and why you didn't like to snuggle was because of a disorder you have. It is called PDD, and it is on the Autism Spectrum. Your doctors said because of this, you learned from the world in a different way, and you would interact in a different way. It doesn't mean your way is wrong or better than my way, it is what it is: just different. We work each and every day to make your world more understandable to you, and to understand you better, ourselves. It is a journey of a thousand steps, and we're only 5 steps into it.

We've come so far, together, you and I. Despite all your challenges, from birth-on, you've come through far better than anyone could have predicted. You laugh, and smile. You sing and dance. You love to go to gymnastics and swing on the bars, and bounce around in the 'cheese pit'. You're learning how to swim! (and to think, you used to scream and cry if any water so much as touched your head) Just last week, I watched you do 40 'dunks' under water, with nary a tear! You have your bad days (and boy are they bad) but, the older you get, the more your days seem to be good, really, really, good.

You are an amazing little girl, and you amaze me each and every day. Just when I feel like your challenges are insurmountable, you do some sort of little, ordinary, every-day miracle, and in that instant the sun begins to shine, and all the little challenges and struggles we face, melt away for that glorious little instant.

Happy birthday, my precious little miracle. You are my bestest girl; always.

Love,

Mama

More about ma' Peeps

Taken from the April 2008 issue of Parenting magazine:
by: Deborah Skolnik

4 Ways Kids are Like Peeps


1. They're sweet, though almost always a bit sticky.


2. You can give them a little squeeze if they're yours--but not if they're a stranger's.

3. They're a known cause of stubborn belly overhang.

4. It can be hard to stop at one, but after two or three, the mere thought of having another may make you queasy.







Lovin da peeps and lovin, y'all, ma' peeps!

Parental Advisory: Explicit Content

In honor of my all time favorite Easter basket treats:

The Peep Show

My Heart On My Sleeve

This is a photo of my parents at our wedding.

The last photo that was taken of my mom and I before she 'got sick'.

Valentine's day is for my mom. I miss her every day, but especially today, of all days.

In loving memory.

Barbara Lee

October 2, 1940 - February 14, 2002

Some day I'll find the courage and energy to post the story of my mom. For now, this is what I've got.

I miss you, mom.

Just Ducky...so, why be normal?

Go Big Green!

Why be normal? A snowman is just a snowman, but a with a mohawk, he just rocks!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

Enjoying a snow day...

Angst takes a plume and scratches feverishly upon the digital parchment

Tonight I had a lovely phone call with my father, who resides (currently, as in during this season) in Florida. My entire family lives there. I am the lone loony tune on the west coast--or am I? Our phone conversation was exactly one hour, two minutes, and forty-three seconds long. A world record conversation, when it comes to my father--whom, incidentally, when in this state will drive 1.5 hours to my home, talk to me for ten minutes, give me a hug, and leave. Yes, he is rather eccentric. I know no one like that.

At any rate, one of the gambits of conversation rested upon my brother, and upon further interrogation, my nephew: Steven. Ah, Steven. I rarely (if ever) use first names here, due to respect of privacy and the ever present specter of the digital world that threatens to haunt us--should we dare utter something incoherent (I frequently do) or worse something not politically correct. Lord knows, anything in history that has wound up in some sort of public medium finds a way of rising from its musty grave of some twenty-odd years or more, and challenging the speaker's credibility--as if we aren't entitled to change our opinion, or become more evolved and more sentient beings as we age. I digress.

My nephew, Steven, and I are only 5 years apart in age. Yes, my brother is nearly 17 years my senior. In a nutshell, without going into particulars, my family has become estranged from my nephew. He has chosen to take his anger toward his father (my brother) out on the entire family, and has eclipsed reason and decided that his father did him wrong, ergo so have I. It is fallacious thinking, but alas, he is only human. I try not to hold it against him. I try.

It has been hard for B.J. and I because over the years, we have tried to reach out to Steven, include him in our lives, and entreat him to allow us into his life. He would make a few baby-steps toward that end, but then forget to follow through with his end of the deal: take our calls, allow us to see him. At any rate, it is difficult (at best) to try to stay in touch with someone who does not wish to be in touch with you. And so, times went by. Two years, as a matter of fact. And within that two years we find that Steven has had a son, Kade. We missed out on 2 years of his sweet little life. Despite our best efforts (could I have tried harder? I will be honest: yes.) Steven, and now his son Kade, slip through our fingers and are lost to the ever shifting sands of time. We hear nothing...nothing...cannot find them...then they show up! A merciful, wonderful, reunion! We are allowed to have a glimpse at Kade and Steven's life.

Fast forward, again, two years. Steven has made us 'persona non grata' and we have not been in his universe. Not, until I get the horrifying phone call last January (2007) that Kade has been killed. We are devastated. We were denied access to his precious life while he was living, and due to poor choices and (somewhat mysterious) occurrences, he is deemed an 'accidental death'. I rush to Steven, as he has finally allowed us to cleave to him in his darkest hour. We weep, he professes his errors, and we forgive him with open heart and arms.

Again, the sands of time bury him, his addictions, afflictions, and misery. He is lost to us. My heart and soul ache for him. He doesn't know what he does, and I cannot change him. I can only sit by quietly, offering my open arms, and should he choose to run to his family, to me, and clasp him to my breast and tell him that I would choose to never let him go. I cannot change someone unwilling to change. I can forgive him, but I cannot make him forgive himself, his father, or his ways. I must wait.

This evening, while talking to my father, I find out that Steven has surfaced, again. And, again, he has another child. A two-year-old boy. I do not even know this child's name. I am so angry, so broken. How I wish he would grow-up, wake-up, 'get over it,' or whatever it is he has to do to see that, yes, he has a genuine right to be angry at his father. He has a right to be pissed off at his father. My brother was wrong, did wrong, and continues to do wrong. I cannot change that. Steven cannot change that. He is old enough now to realize that I am not his father. His grandfather is not his father. We are here to love him. We want him, good, bad, ugly, addicted, unloved. We want his son. He is family.

Do we lose another precious baby to time, anger, and hatred? Does Steven have the right to deny his son his heritage? His family? Does he? I cannot imagine another loss so profound as this, short of losing my own children. I am so angry. Incensed. Yet, do I have a right to my anger? I do not know. I am sure some would say I have no right to be angry, and that I am being selfish, and immature. You're right: I am selfish. I want my family. So many today simply cast off that which they do not want, that which does not acquiesce to their wishes, and ways. And, as I say this I think, directly, of my brother. But he will face his own sins in this life, as will I. Do we suffer another Kade? Do we live our lives and let time go by, without ever being present? What do I do? I know he is approximately one hour south of where I live. One hour. Yet, the gulf that divides us is more vast than the Marianas Trench, the rings of Saturn are closer than they.

Blood is thicker than water.

Tragedy sent this bright, curious, much-loved boy, Kade, Home far too soon. Will we miss out on his half-brother's life, the way that his all-too-brief little life was lost to us? I sincerely hope not.

And, yet, I wait. With prayers and patience, I wait...

...because he's a geek. And I love him.

I'm posting this picture of B.J.'s car on my blog because he has to have a geeky avatar on his testosterone-my-intake-works-better-than-your-turbo-exhaust-chipped-tweeker-car website. And, he's experiencing 'technical difficulties'.

Tcha!

These people and their geeky Internet obsessions. It's like they have nothing in life to do but be tied to the digital umbilical. Yeah. What-ever. I'll never understand that kind of behavior.

Virtual Christmas Wishes to You

Warm Christmas Wishes to you and your family.

Happy 2007, let's make 2008 Great!

Nikon: No Longer Gone!

Oh, sweet Nikon, how I do love thee, yes oh yes, it's surely true.

Oh, sweet Nikon I so missed you, you are my favo-rite little toy.

The days have been so long and dull.

I haven't been able to snap and click.

You are now clean and spark-ling, after just a month been gone.

Oh sweet Nikon I do love thee, I can't wait to click away.


(to the tune of Beethoven's 9th symphony, 'Ode to Joy')

Yup. It's official: I need a serious vacation.
Probably the kind of 'vacation' that has the staff in white lab coats.

But a break, nonetheless.

God Save the Queen

Our European vacation (pun intended) was quite the 'whirl.' We managed to cram in a tour of 9 countries. Being who I am, I would have liked to go to a few more, but time was against us. Our backpack tour included visiting these countries:

England

Belgium

France

Netherlands

Germany

Austria

Switzerland

Italy

and

Vatican City.

My, that is quite a list. It is really staggering, to me, to think that I've actually set foot in all of those places with their varied cultures and languages.

I have some good stories about the various places we went to, but I think that I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Let's begin with England:

My, gotta love those Tube passes. They look like the Essex version of 'America's Most Wanted.'

I guess you're bound to look that way after foregoing sleep for a mere 36+ hours.

At the time, I thought these passes were so cool because they were an honest-to-goodness form of European identification.

Poor B.J., he looks like he's been on a 5 day meth bender.

And, what trip to England would be complete without a visit to good ol' Buckingham Palace? Geez, who is that? A fat Axl Rose? Gotta wonder what I was thinking taking that 'brain spider' (hat). I remember why I wore it--greasy hair! I thought the hat looked better than the four-day-unwashed hair. Hmmm...what would Stacey and Clinton say?

Big Ben vs. the Thumb

Tune in this Saturday to find out who will win this celebrity death match.

We had to visit the Hard Rock Cafe--the one in London is the original. I had wanted to visit this particular Hard Rock since I was about 7 years-old. The reason why I wanted to go there is because when I was about that age my brother went to England for an extended period of time, and when he came back he gave me a couple of souvenirs: a sweatshirt from Oxford University (no, he wasn't a student there...unless you count earning a degree in pub crawls), and a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt. That was my most cherished t-shirt for the longest time, and it is one of the artifacts from my past that inspired my lifelong goal of going to Europe, so needless to say, it was reaching one of my life's major goals to be able to take the cheesy (there's that Axl Rose chick, again) picture in front of the shop.

Interesting fact: Stonehenge is made of stones from the Presley mountain range--200 miles away. Nobody knows how exactly the stones got to where they are, but there they are. Also, no matter the time of year, it is cold. The Stones themselves, also have different temperatures (touch) to them as well; some stones feel 'warm' while others feel 'cool.' And, they really do.

Why is it I always have to act like a jerk and make 'the face'? Do any of you ever feel compelled to make the face in pictures? For any reason?

For what it's worth, I don't know. Maybe it is an excuse to show off just how Gene Simmons-like my tongue is? (I can, in fact, touch my tongue to my nose. How's that for random trivia?)

At any rate the exchange rate was about $1.60 (us) to one Pound (British). Our money didn't go very far in England, so
if nothing else, the look on my face says it all: The U.K. is very expensive.

Goodbye to England and the white cliffs of Dover.

1,000 words and more...

...And I want a computer for Christmas, Santa.


...the award for grumpy face goes to...


And, if all else fails, cuddle your mommy

Family Portraits

Yuck.

I mean,truly, it was a horrible experience. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, usually family portraits are at worst OK and at best a lot of fun. Our family portrait, for this year, sucked.

Yep. That is the best diction that I can muster to describe it: it sucked.

We didn't do a family portrait last year because I truly did not have the energy or the need for a new picture in my living room. This year, since the Chub is not an infant, and you can't tell who it is in the picture (well, any reasonable human being with two brain cells to rub together can...but I digress) it was time to get a new one done.

Oh, yay.

The kids' outfits, as I said yesterday, matched perfectly. (I'm so completely jonesing for my Nikon--that still isn't back from the shop yet) If I had the capability, I'd post a pic of their cute little outfits. You'll just have to trust me. I'll eventually be able to post. B.J. and I did not go shopping for a new outfit for pictures. Why? I don't know. Chalk it up to lethargy or cheapness. Either would work. Amazingly, B.J. rummages though his closet and finds a pair of black slacks and a purplish dress shirt that coordinates nicely with the kids' clothes. That left me. Oh, joy.

I have had a continual wardrobe crisis for about the past 8 months or so. I lost enough weight that my clothes got too big. A good thing, right? So, I did the Dr. Phil thing and promptly got rid of all my too-big clothes (Dr. Phil says get rid of them unless you plan to fit into them again...I do NOT plan to fit into them EVER again). And, because money is always tight, and time even tighter I have not really gotten around to replacing my wardrobe. My poor co-workers must be sick-to-death of seeing me in the same 5 outfits; I know I am. Back to pictures: I have a purplish sweater but it didn't work, along with just about every other thing in my closet. I finally settled on (through barely contained tears) dark wash jeans and a (too embarrassing to admit) old black velvet top. I resolved that we'd just have our portrait 'from the waist up'. WRONG!

Whatever the photographer was thinking, I'll never know. Clearly, the whole family, except mom, looks great. Dressed up, color coordinated, picture-perfect. I tell her about my 'waist up' theory. Fat lot of good it did. She poses us, on the floor, mom (me) in front sort of leaning over to the side full body shot, B.J. squatting behind me, Peanut standing behind me on the other side, and a cranky, screaming, whiny chublet in the front of me. This is just the beginning.

Internally I'm groaning to myself, what part of 'from the waist up ONLY' did she not understand? And, to make matters worse, she is trying to get chubber to look happier than someone marching to the guillotine (his current pose) by making silly noises, playing peek-a-boo through an empty box. Normally, this type of activity makes little kids giggle and smile. Or, at least snap out of their funk. It succeeds grandly in making Chublet more and more angry. He actually becomes incensed, complete with more screaming, and, my personal favorite, throwing himself on the floor in the 'rug' pose. Can this woman simply not shut up? Can she not see she's not helping, but making things worse? For all intents and purposes, she cannot.

So, we scream our way through the family shot. When we reviewed the pictures, there was only ONE shot where we were all looking the same direction, and Chub was not openly screaming: the picture with me, full-body in front. With B.J.'s white sweat socks showing. Classy. I think we'll be the modern equivalent to a Norman Rockwell...

Family portrait done, we proceeded to torment ourselves and the kids some more: sibling shots. Let's just say that went over like a lead balloon. For a change, Peanut was compliant, smiled on cue, tilted her head 'just so' and sat still. Who was this child? On the other hand, there was the chublet: cranky, angry, flopping in the floor. The proverbial little kid pitching a fit in the grocery store. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

The kids' photos were so horrible, I didn't buy even one of them. Even the photographer who reviewed the proofs with us covered up Chublet's face and said, "these would be great if we could cut this out." I agreed.

So, the moral of the story? I don't know. All I do know is that my wardrobe malfunction will be immortalized in our 2007 Family/Christmas portrait. I'll forever remember how entirely two years old Chublet was, and that the Peanut was proportionally angelic to Chublet's evilness.

We have rescheduled the kids' portrait for next weekend. Let's hope it is less of a toddler rodeo. Please.

Ham Day...part deux.

Do you ever have days where you feel like you accomplish absolutely nothing, yet when you go through your 'to do' list, you've hit 99.5% of what there was?

Well, believe it or not, today was a 'I feel like I got zilch done, but really we did a lot' kind of day.

Kitchen cleaned (for the 12th time). Check.
Fall/Harvest decorations down and put away. Check.
Christmas storage bins down from attic (minus the nagging, I only asked B.J.one time). That's a 'double' Check-Check.
(Faux) Fir tree assembled. Check.
Christmas tree decorated. Check.
Main living areas ho-ho-holiday-fied. Check, check, check.
Broken antique Christmas ornament cleaned up. Check.

Christmas portraits. Check.

Here's where you insert the needle-scratching-vinyl-record soundbite.

This is another post, for tomorrow, entirely.

Let's just say, it was SOOOOooo much fun, it gets its own entry. Nuff said.

Christmas lights (minimal) up outside.

So, despite all my accomplishments for today, I feel like I just went in circles and got nothing done.

I'll post more tomorrow. About Christmas portraits. (insert soundbite from shower scene from PSYCHO....here!).

Nikon-gone

D-50. Mucho mega pixels. Almost 3 photos per second.

And, I can't use any of it right now. That's right, I haven't had my baby (camera) for going on 2 weeks now.

Sigh.

I never realized just how much and how often I grabbed my camera before it went out of use. See, it's not lost or broken or anything dramatic like that (thank goodness!). It was well overdue for a general cleaning, and most unfortunately the shop that we bought it from has pulled out of our fair hamlet, so I had to drive the hour north to the bigger city to have it worked on.

I really miss it. I can hardly wait until we get that glorious call from the shop saying we can come and pick it up.

My fingers have been absolutely itching to be able to set my f-stops and aperture to capture the beautiful fall foliage that is directly outside my kitchen window (my Japanese maples are showing some to-die-for crimson and orange right now). But I can't.

Not yet anyway.

I hate waiting.