Pack Rat

What a difference a month makes!

Meg is growing up so fast. She starts school in two weeks. Her vocabulary is exploding. She sleeps in her own "big girl" bed. Potty training is done. Her tastes are turning from Disney Princesses (disturbing) to Alvin and the Chipmunks (annoying).

Oh, and she is turning into Navin R. Johnson.

You know, the Steve Martin character from '"The Jerk."

I'm not saying this because she was born a poor black child. I mean, the black part, yes, but her circumstances really don't qualify for less than "lower middle class."

I'm not saying this because she has a fascination with the phone book. Hell, I don't think she would know a phone book if it came up and bit her. We, like most Americans now take the phone book(s) straight from the porch to the recycling bin, stopping maybe to take off the crappy magnet on the front. Meg may eventually get excited about a school directory, but definitely not a phone book.

So, what is it about Meg that makes her so "Navinesque?"

She has to take everything with her.


Every morning, as Meg leaves the house, she picks up things she just can't do without. Why can't she do without them? Because she saw them as she was leaving the house.

Duh.

It started slowly at first.

A stuffed animal.

A blanket.

An extra pair of shoes.

A coloring book.

Then, before we knew it, Meg was heading out the door with two dolls, every stuffed bunny in the house, two pairs of princess high heels, three pacifiers, a box of fruit snacks, a DVD of "Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang" and a child sized plastic chair.

I like to think the chair is an homage to the movie.

This morning was a bit better, but her Dad still couldn't get her out without her musical stuffed seahorse, a kazoo, a magnifying glass, and several strands of Mardi Grad beads.

Now, I know some of think Meg must be taking these things with her because she wants to take a long the comforts of home as she heads out into the big, cold, cruel.

Yeah, no. We don't drop her off at the Greyhound station.

That "big, cold cruel world" is her grandmother's house -- otherwise known as the kid Hilton. Oh, and when she's not there she's with my aunt, otherwise known as the kid Hyatt. Seriously, what she is doing is like packing up the lamps at the Motel 6 so she has something to amuse herself while she's waiting for room service.

Maybe it's our fault. Ryan and I are notorious over packers. On our recent week long trip to Big Sur  we took three suitcases. No, we probably didn't need our scuba gear, but we were on the coast, and it is 2012, and you can't be too careful. Also, I packed all of those ziplock bags because you don't know what you might encounter outside of Utah. After all, in California they sell wine in the grocery store. 

Whatever the origin, I am hoping this "Jerk" phase leads to bigger and better things. A love of Cyrano perhaps, a love of art collecting, a devotion to bluegrass music, or maybe even several SNL hosting gigs. Hopefully not a love of movies that bring Bonnie Hunt from a feminist comic icon to a schlocky punch line.

And if none of those things happen?

Well, at least she isn't emulating "Smokey and the Bandit."

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Missing my Beast

Ryan and I just got back from five days in Boston. We saw historic sites. We ate seafood. We went to the movies. We went to dinner after 6:30 and stayed out until after 11pm. We slept in. We wandered around Harvard Square and various old cemeteries. 


Mostly though? We missed Meg. 


That probably sounds silly to a lot of you. I know it did to me up until the point we boarded the plane on Tuesday. I thought it would be good to get away, to spend some time alone with my husband, and alone with myself; to remember what it is like to be an "adult" who doesn't think about if a menu has kid friendly foods, or where the nearest "potty" may be in case of emergency. 


I did all those things, of course. And it was really nice to sit outside at a bistro talking to Ryan and not worrying about chasing a toddler around the sidewalk. It was nice to hear there was a 30 minute wait for a table at brunch, and not decide to go somewhere else because a meltdown was imminent. For all those nice moments though, there were just so many more moments that Meg would have made better. 


Going to the aquarium? Yep. Spying wildlife in the cemeteries? Yep. Checking out the buskers near Harvard. Definitely. Eating anything? Totally. Taking the train? Meg loves trains so much that every ride would have been a treat. 


It was Thursday night when Ryan and I finally reached our breaking point. We had both had out moments, but kept telling each other that when we looked back on this trip we would remember just the time we got to spend together, not the time we didn't get to spend with Meg. Then we went to see the movie "Beasts of the Southern Wild." 


For those of you who haven't seen it yet, "Beasts" is a pretty heart wrenching movie anyway. It is even more heart wrenching though when you realize the little girl at the center of it, the one who keeps yelling for her "mama" looks very similar like the child you are missing 3-thousand miles away. Oh, and kind of acts like her too. 

Meg. 

Movie. 

By the end of the film Ryan and I were both sloppy, sobbing messes. The two small napkins we had gotten at the concession stand in case our popcorn was too greasy (as if that is really a thing), had now been shredded and melted with tears. The collar of his t-shirt looked like he had been in a rainstorm, and my bra was dripping like I was having a hot flash. 

If it hadn't been so much to change the tickets (yes, we checked), we would have gotten on a plane right then. 

Meg will be going on our next trip with us. And the one after that. Oh, and the one after that. Actually, she will be pretty much going on every trip we take from now until we can no longer force her to be seen with us. Yes, Ryan and I will likely miss out on some romantic moments. Yes, the trips will cost more and be driven by different agendas. It's a trade off though. Meg is three now. It seems like just yesterday she was a dream in my head. It will just be tomorrow that she is asking to be dropped off two blocks away from the mall and wanting to go "camping" instead of on a family trip. So, I am going to treasure every vacation I can. It will be worth passing up funky Chinese dumpling shops to find some place with cheese noodles. I will just keep a list of all the dumpling shops for trips Ryan and I take when we retire. Our "doughy goodness world tour" if you will. 

Oh, and the next time I see "Beasts" I am investing in Kleenex first. 

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Oh, Mexico

For seven days I wore sandals, if I wore any shoes at all. Now it's back to big bulky boots so my toes don't freeze.

For seven days I smelled like sunscreen, salt, and ocean. Now I keep getting whiffs of mildew, and I think it might be me.

For seven days I watched whales and dolphins. I saw every sunrise and sunset. I chased little lizards and crabs while Meg squealed in delight. Now I will go back to watching the clock, and NBC "comedies."

For seven days I ate whatever I wanted, and drank beer no matter what time of day it was. Now I am back on my diet, and I doubt they will let me sip on Corona at my desk. It wouldn't taste as good anyway...

For seven days Meg and Ryan never left my sight. We giggled, and swam, and sang, and cuddled. Tomorrow Ryan and I go back to work, and Meg goes back to day care.

Oh, how I loved those seven days. Oh, how lucky I was to have them. Now I will let the memories sustain me until the next seven, next year.

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Meg Takes Manhattan

Being with Meg is like being with a rock star, only with fewer temper tantrums and less vomiting. Everywhere we go people stare at her, and faun all over her, and tell her how wonderful she is. They are willing to give her anything they want just to get her to smile, and hate to see her upset. Up until now I thought this was just a Utah phenomenon since it is less, how do I say this, um "colorful," here than in other parts of the world. Our recent trip to New York proved I was wrong.

People were stopping on the street to stare at her. Waitresses were slipping her lollipops as we came in. Cops were giving her high fives. Street musicians were playing just for her. The way things were going I fully expected Mayor Bloomberg to show up at our hotel with a key to the city. The only person who didn't think Meg was darling? This guy:

This guy not only looked like Michael Jackson, he thought he was him. He was dancing on Broadway and 36th, right outside of Macy's, with a huge crowd around him. The minute Meg saw him and heard the music, she wanted to shake her groove thing. We got her out of the stroller, she started dancing, and no one saw Michael any more. The murmurs in the crowd went from "look at him dance" to "look at that baby dance." Ryan started getting concerned people were taking pictures of Meg. This did not make Michael happy. He came up to Meg, took her hand, and walked her back to Ryan. "They came to see Michael," he said.

We didn't tell him we saw people leave once Meg stopped dancing.

As I said, she's a rock star.

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California Baby

We spent the weekend in California, seeing good friends, basking in the sun, and introducing Meg to the ocean. While the water itself wasn't a big hit -- she definitely loved the feel of sand between her toes.


This year, standing on the beach. Next year? Surfing. I can just see the urge to hang ten in her eyes...

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Generic Vacation Post

I am back from our road trip through Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. For more than a week it was just me, Ryan, and Sally in the car, touring around, seeing friends, fishing, hiking, and eating everything that wasn't poisonous and we didn't have to kill with our bare hands. It was really nice to be away, and I was surprised at how fast the time went by. Now, all I have to show for it is a new roll of belly fat, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. And most of them are pictures you all probably have in your vacation scrapbooks -- even if you have never been west of the Mississippi river. Because, let's face it, any vacation involving the great outdoors requires that certain photos be taken.

1. The Random Landscape Do you know where that picture was taken? Yeah, neither do I. I mean, I know it was taken somewhere in the Utah/Idaho/Wyoming/Montana area, but other than that I am stumped. I don't even know why I decided to take a picture of it. Was it the clouds? Or the color of the shadow on the mountain? Or the green valley below? It is a mystery for the ages.

2. The Distant Animal Shot I don't know if you can tell, but those are black bears in the picture above. At least, that's what the ranger told me they were. Oh, and there were about a million people pulled to the side of the road to see them, and only bears get that kind of attention in Yellowstone. Elk will actually give you five bucks and let you sit on their backs if you take their picture, but bears are like the Angelina Jolie of the wild. I took this picture zooming in as far as possible with my little point and shoot, and then ran back to the car to show Ryan. "Where are the bears?" he asked. I pointed to them. "The blobs?" Yes, the blobs.

3. The Wildflower Close Up Because every snarky bitch has her soft side, especially if her camera has a setting meant to be used exclusively for photographing flowers.

4. The Waterfall I am almost certain there is a federal law that all waterfalls, no matter how large or small, must be photographed by anyone who passes them with a camera. I don't know why. I mean, it's not like we don't all know what they look like, or what the water is doing. None of them are especially unique, yet the idea that it is WATER and it is FALLING makes use all go for our instamatics. It's like we can't believe rivers have to obey the rules of gravity.

5. The Landmark This is the north gate of Yellowstone. You know, just to prove that I was in the park, and not taking nature photos just in some field. THEY ARE ACTUAL NATIONAL TREASURES, NOT KNOCK OFFS!

Those are just five of the more than 2-hundred pictures I took during the trip. Do you want to see the rest? Yeah, me neither... Go look at your own.

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Checking In

I am still on vacation, visiting America's natural treasures, and supposedly disconnected from the world. However, Ryan went to get sparkling water to mix with my box wine and I discovered the hotel has intermittent wi-fi, so I thought I would make sure none of my guest bloggers have burned the place down. Oh, and I thought I would share just a few of the awesome things I have seen during my time away. Don't worry, I am not talking about the majestic mountains, or the cuddly bears; I mean, we have seen that shit, but who hasn't. I am talking about things like this...

Is that the best sign ever? It not only lets you know that the road is uneven, but it reminds you of the fact that, no matter how well things many be going, life will always suck. Oh, just in case that isn't enough for you, there is this sign too...

It was specially made for Lindsey Lohan's first national park visit. I wish I were kidding. Moving on, the absolute best thing I have seen on this trip was not in any of the parks, and WASN'T EVEN MADE IN AMERICA! Feast your eyes on this little beauty. I mean, unless your name is Tara and then you will just be ruining your birthday/slash Christmas present. That is how awesome this little item is...

There are no words, I know. You just have to stand back and experience the awsomeicity of that canteen. I was hoping to see a real unicorn in the park, it turns out they are extinct.

Okay, time to get offline, go sit on the porch, and feed the mosquito population of Idaho. Enjoy the final guest blogger tomorrow, and after we have all celebrated America's birthday by blowing up small parts of it.

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Only in L.A.

They have everything here, even bubble bath specially for people in the entertainment industry...

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Utah's Best Named City

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On Shuffle, Take 3

Tomorrow I go back to real life. After two weeks of travel, interspersed with short visits to the real world, I can no longer say I am going on, currently experiencing, or just getting back from vacation. That means I can no longer put things off because "I won't be in town." The house can't be left a mess because "we won't be here anyway." And I won't be able to ignore things that have been causing me stress because "I'm taking a vacation from my problems." The vacation is over, it's back to reality. I have one more night though, and I am going to make the most of it. So, tomorrow I will go back to my pithy commentary on life and love, to my funny stories, and tales of wisdom, but tonight I am phoning it in. Enjoy the pretty pictures, and relive some of my favorite vacation moments with me.

Even the statues in New York don't mind their own business.

I can't tell you how hard it was to get Ryan out of here. Or maybe it was the other way around...
I seem to remember someone screaming "I married the wrong Ryan." That might have been me.

I can't believe a spot like this exists in the middle of New York City. Luke was truly entranced.

Even pigeons look charming at Bethesda Fountain.

I couldn't fit the license plate in the picture. It read "tourist."

The shuttle launch. Really, it was. Unfortunately, in the three seconds it took me
to get my camera out, the space craft had left the atmosphere.

A charming southern picture. There are not very many of these left though,
since Florida is like the rest of America, covered with mini malls and freeways.

No clue about the name of this flower. Probably something like "alligator plume."

Those are cormorants. I mean, the birds are.
The balls are Christmas ornaments no one has taken down yet.

The really love their crosses in Florida. This wasn't even the biggest one we saw.

The most awesome t-shirt ever. EVER.

I am off now to enjoy my remaining hours in my vacation haze. Tomorrow food will have calories, alcohol will make me seem stupid instead of charming, and money will no longer grow on trees. Damn it.

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Walkin' the Beach

I really love the ocean. There is something about it that just fills my soul with song, and makes me want to use really corny phrases to describe my emotions. During our visit to Florida we went to Sarasota where I got to glimpse the Gulf of Mexico for the first time. It was truly a sight to behold. Even better though were the people who packed the sugar sand beach lining it...

Most of the people brought ridiculous set-ups, that showed they had no intention of going in the water.

Some were just there for a nap.

This is me and Ryan in 50 years.

Even hippie freaks retire to Florida.

This is called skin cancer waiting to happen. There were many. many crispy fried people on the beach.

And then some people were wearing all the covering they could to avoid getting burned.

When a kid is wearing a bigger bathing suit, it might be time to rethink your attire.

I am pretty sure this was some sort of cult suicide, but I didn't get close enough to confirm my suspicions.

This guy was the best. He ran up and down the beach, weaving in and out of the people,
looking like he was about to collapse at any moment, carrying an orange.

Really, this was almost more entertaining than Gatorland. If the running orange guy had let me sit on his back that would made the day perfect...

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The Real Magic Kingdom

Two years ago our friends Stan and Lana moved their family to Florida and I figured that was the last we would see of them. It wasn't that I thought we would lose touch, I just assumed that they would all be eaten by alligators. As everyone knows, gators are everywhere in Florida, and they are sneaky killing machines. I always figured the only reason there are any people in Florida is because occasionally alligators get full. There are few things that scare me, but gators and Ann Coulter top the list. The possibly they could breed (both are cold blooded reptiles) keeps me up at night, but I digress. A few months ago Ryan talked me into planning a trip to Orlando to see Stan and Lana, using the rationalization that they had lived there quite a while and they, their kids, and their pets are all still alive, and have lost nary a finger or toe. I said yes, but on the condition that we go to one place: Gatorland. I knew it was time to face my fear. And this weekend, I did.

Gatorland is a classic theme park in every sense of the word. Visitors are greeted by a large gator sign, and walk past a concrete gator mouth to get to the ticket booths. You can buy gator t-shirts, gator hats, and gator glasses. Gator bites, gator ribs, and Gatorade are all sold at the snack bars. And, since they are the namesake, there are gators of every shape and size almost everywhere you look. For the most part they are in enclosures, safely kept behind fences, and moats, and glass. That wasn't good enough for me though, and the entire time we were at the park I had the chills. It didn't help matters that all of the warning signs features attempts at humor like "those who throw litter into the animal enclosures will be asked to retrieve it." Yeah, great, make it look like the alligators have a sense of humor. After all, prey is easier to attack when it's doubled over with laughter.
Ryan, thinking he was being a good guy, decided to buy me the "junior wrangler" package at the park, which featured a pack of hot dogs to feed to the gators, a ride on the train, and a chance to have my picture taken on the back of a gator. When he told me that I thought for sure he had to be kidding. Had someone at this park lost their mind? And why the hot dogs? Weren't the tourists doing their "rides" enough for the gators to eat? Stan and Lana's kids thought this was hilarious. Yes, they were laughing at my probable death. "That's something for the little kids to do," Cody cackled. Well, I guess kids would be the logical food choice, since they have smaller bones. Josie assured me that it was safe, that they taped the mouth of the gators, and that she had done it before -- when she was nine. I still was not convinced.

For the next few hours we wandered around the park, and I gave myself a mental pep talk. I knew that alligators have no mouth strength once their jaws are closed. Tape would keep the mouth shut. Of course, if it didn't then the gator would just be really pissed because it's mouth had been taped shut, and would probably want to take it out on the person next to him. And that would be me. I worried about the headlines, and how everything else I had ever done would be forgotten, as the only thing that anyone would remember was that I was eaten by an alligator. I wondered if Alanis Morisette would write a song about me misusing a common vocabulary word. And then it was time to face the gator. I wish I could tell you what was going through my head, but I don't remember anything but panic. Lucky for you, and less so for me, Ryan had the video camera.

Well, at least the people watching me seemed to enjoy themselves. Oh, wait, it gets better though. There was a photographer taking pictures that were (of course) for sale. Oh, and you could get the picture printed onto a t-shirt! I think you see where this is going...

Ryan calls it the most awesome t-shirt ever. I call it exhibit A in our divorce proceedings. At least now I am not afraid of alligators any more. Not because I touched one though, but because now I have a bigger fear: Ryan wearing that shirt in public. Oh, or Ryan wearing tat t-shirt in public and then running into Ann Coulter... Now I'm scared.

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Walkin' the Bridge

Every year my parents go to New York to celebrate their anniversary, and every year they walk the Brooklyn Bridge. I think there is some sort of symbolism to it, but I haven't asked, so I don't know. This year the whole family went to New York, and Ryan and I decided to do the bridge walk with them. I, of course, brought my camera, because I don't think there are enough pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge out there. And I took a lot. But then I got bored. I mean, that's a mile and a half long walk, and the photo opportunities don't really change. There are cables, there are towers, there are views of the city, and view of Brooklyn. That's it. I still wanted to take pictures though, because I have a short attention span, so I just starting snapping pictures of the other people on the bridge with us. I think it's an interesting slice of humanity, but then again, I also am reading Tony Curtis's biography and enjoying it.

Some people looked like they were walking the bridge out of spite.

I wasn't sure if this woman was scared of the bridge, or allergic to it.

Best bridge outfit EVER.

These kids were just begging to be mugged.

This guy was just begging to be tripped.

You do NOT want to get in the way of bicyclists on the bridge. They will run you down.
I almost found that out the hard way.

These ladies were trying so hard to look like New Yorkers I am almost positive they were from Scranton.

I was amazed by how packed the bridge was in places.

You cannot escape gross, necking (is that still a term?) teenagers, no matter where you are.

These guys are the only ones who noticed I was taking their picture.

Of course, that may have been because everyone else was busy taking pictures of the bridge.

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