Operation Pink Herring

Live blogging the Super Bowl

I know I really can’t complain because this is really the only football game that Joel watches all season, but GOD.  The Super Bowl is so boring.  We’ve already gone through the Sunchips, Gardetto’s snack mix, nachos AND tequila-wings (uh, every single food I just mentioned was purchased yesterday at Sam’s Club.  Is that strange?) and there is still a whole quarter left.  I really don’t think I can eat any more. 

So let’s talk about more interesting things, shall we?   Like perhaps The Proposal Story?

So, Joel and I went to Barcelona a few weeks ago.  Perhaps I mentioned this?  Seventy thousand times?  Before we left I took a larger than usual dose of “good natured ribbing” from, oh, EVERYONE I KNOW, about wh ether we were going to come back from this trip Officially Engaged.   No, I told them.  Absolutely not.  People can just go on vacation, you know.  There doesn’t have to be some underlying motive for a fun trip.  We got a really good deal on Hotwire and we just like to travel and Joel’s never been out of the country AND JUST LAY OFF ME ALREADY WITH THE PRESSURE.   I even have a half-written post saved as a draft about how annoying, rude and incredibly offensive I find the “So, when are you getting married” question.  Seriously, I know that people are just trying to show a good-natured interest in my life (most of the time), but as a public service to all Committed But Not Engaged persons, please do not say things like “When are you going to get engaged, already?”  It’s not cool.  It makes us feel bad about ourselves and it makes us want to punch the asker in the face. 

Ahem. 

So, off we went to Barcelona.  After our four-hour layover in scenic Newark, NJ, our flight landed without incident in Spain and we were reminded just how real jetlag is.   We found our hotel and checked in around 10am Barcelona time (4am our time) and immediately collapsed for a 2-hour nap.  “No more than two hours!  Any more than that and we won’t be able to sleep tonight, and the jetlag will just go on and on and on,” I insisted.  You see, I’ve done this before.  I’ve been to Europe a few times.  I worked in a sleep lab. I know all about circadian rhythms and sleep stages and I consider myself somewhat of an expert.   Two-hour naps are the key! 

Three hours later Joel had to drag me out of the bed.   

We walked around the city in search of food and I realized just how much Spanish I’d lost when I broke into a cold sweat trying to order us two croissants for breakfast.  We found a reputable ATM and took out some Euros.   We walked around, amused by the tininess of everything in Europe: tiny cars, tiny toilets, tiny (but lovely) hotel room, tiny bed.   We finally collapsed into bed for the night at a reasonable hour (not too early!  You need to get on a regular schedule right away or you’ll never adjust!) and slept harder than I have in a long, long time.

The next morning we woke up and scouted out a few more croissants for breakfast (never have I eaten such heavy breakfast every day and LOST WEIGHT.  We walked a minimum of two and half hours a day, every day.  The Europe Diet, you should try it!) and Joel suggested that we go check out the Palau Nacional (National Palace), which also doubles as the art museum.  I said “sure”, and staggered along after him like a jet-lagged, coffee-less zombie (by the end of the trip we knew where every Starbucks in the city was located, but this was our first morning and I was still under the delusion that “I can go without coffee for a week”).  We walked up the million steps to the front of the palace and admired the view of the city below us.  We wandered around the grounds, watched a little black cat that reminded us of Henry chasing an imaginary bird up a tree.   We walked over to the other side of the grounds, which turned out to just be a bus parking lot, and I suggested that we sit down on one of the benches provided for a short break.  Or maybe a short nap.  I really would have been fine with either.

“Let’s walk back to the center and sit there, where we can enjoy the view,” Joel suggested.

Sigh.  More walking?  I agreed.  The view was pretty.

We sat down on the stone benches in front of the palace and looked out over the city.   Tourists posed for pictures in front of the balcony with the cityscape behind them, couples sat together on the steps poring through travel books, a street performer set up his speakers and guitar while off to the side an older man carefully arranged his necklaces on a blanket to attract buyers.   The morning haze hung over the city beneath us.

“I think we should go inside and see this museum before I fall asleep right here,” I told Joel. 

“Let’s just sit here and enjoy the nice view for a little while.” he replied.  After a moment he added, “And enjoy the company.”  (I am not joking.  He said that.  Feel free to gag, I probably would if someone else were telling this story).

“OK, we can stay as long as you want.  I’m just going to lie down here and take a little nap, wake me up when you want to go in,” I said.

“Before you do that, I have a question for you,” Joel said, and in a flash he had whipped a ring out of his pocket and bent down on one knee.  “Will you marry me?”

I’m not kidding when I say it happened in a flash; maybe it just seemed that way to me in my jetlagged state, but I thought that when life-changing moments arrived things were supposed to slow down, not speed up.   My brain started reeling and I honestly could not comprehend what was happening.  “Are you serious?” was the first thing that came out of my mouth.  Joel assured me that he was completely serious, but I just kept repeating things like “are you kidding?” and “is that [the ring] real?”  I was crying and shaking.  I can’t remember having such a visceral reaction to an event since I took my driver’s test when I was seventeen and almost failed because my leg was shaking so hard that I couldn’t properly brake. 

And of course, as soon as the shock wore off I said YES!

I could not tell you one thing that we saw in that museum, which we did go into afterwards.  I remember that when I took the ring from Joel, I put it on the wrong hand, and then when we realized that it wouldn’t fit on my ring finger we moved it to my middle finger for safekeeping (it would certainly have fallen off the ring finger; when we had it resized it turned out to be almost two full sizes too big for my freakishly skinny fingers).  I remember that they checked our tickets at every single exhibit in the museum, and that every time I took my hand out of my pocket I was mesmerized by the rock on my hand.  I remember how heavy the ring felt. 

I remember that the after we had lunch at Telepizza, we were walking down the street when it really hit me.  I looked at Joel and said “We’re going to get married.”

We had the whole rest of the week to adjust to our new status and it was kind of nice to have that time to keep our little secret just between us (and the entire city of Barcelona).  It was hard for me to check my email and not reply to everyone with “OMG WE’RE GETTING MARRIED”.  I checked every single picture that we uploaded to flickr to make sure that the ring wasn’t visible because I wanted our parents to be the first to know (and I sure didn’t want them to find out by seeing a picture on flickr with no explanation).  When we got home on Monday night, the first thing we did (after devouring a frozen pizza) was call our families to tell them the news.  I knew they would be nothing but happy for us, but I couldn’t stop myself from shaking the entire time.  I was just that excited.

My parents were pretty excited, too.  My dad said that he couldn’t be happier, but I think that might he might be pretty freakin excited right now, seeing as his team has just won the Super Bowl.

It’s been a good week.   

Phantom cat odor, keys, and pickup lines

When we arrived home on Monday night, I was braced to be hit in the face by a wall of Phantom Cat Odor when we opened the front door.  Every once in awhile I'll catch a whiff of PCO in the front room, undoubtedly from the period of time last year that I like to call Hell On Earth, when Henry was peeing on EVERYTHING with no explanation.  I've treated spots he peed on with hundreds of dollars worth of Resolve, Nature's Miracle, Arm and Hammer Pet Odor Treatment, regular old Arm and Hammer sprinkled (dumped) liberally all over the carpet, Special Enzyme Cleaners Ordered from the Interwebs, and basically tried everything known to mankind to get rid of the smell, and STILL. Still we smell it sometimes.  I even ordered a black light to find hidden pee-spots (which was a total waste of money) and soaked pretty much the entire carpet in gallons of enzyme cleaner and STILL.  I smell it, sometimes.  And that's the problem: I only smell it sometimes.  Which I take to mean that most of the time, I've become so acclimated to PCO that I don't even notice it.  When we returned from Lake Tahoe this summer after being away for over a week, we were bowled over by the stench upon returning home.  Oh my God, we realized, This is what our house smells like to normal people.  And that is why you'll find me burning seventeen different strategically placed scented candles whenever someone is coming over.

Before this turns into an entire entry about cat pee (which I'm sure would be thrilling, but I've got more important things to tell you about) my point is: when we came home from Barcelona on Monday night I did not notice any tangible cat odor upon walking through the door.  Success at last!   Nor did I find any passive-aggressive pee spots anywhere in the house.  Nope, all we came home to was an excessive amount of cat litter tracked through the Poop Room and one pile of barf.  Not bad, not bad at all!

But that would just have been too easy.  There is always a price to pay for going away and having a fabulous time, and for this trip that price was hopping into Joel's truck on Tuesday morning to find the battery had mysteriously died while we were away.  We abandoned ship truck and Joel and I switched keys so he could borrow my car for the day.   When I went to the grocery store that evening I took my spare set of keys, rather than be bothered with walking all the way upstairs to get my primary set back from Joel.  When I got home, I remembered that I hadn't been able to get into my office that morning because my office keys are on my primary key set, so we switched back. I gave him his keys, and I took back my keys. But the spare keys remained in my purse, and so when I kissed Joel goodbye on Wednesday morning and told him, "Sure!  Borrow my car again!  Of course, darling!", I waltzed out the door with both sets of keys to said car. 

This is what Joel has to look forward to FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. 

But whatever, it was a good excuse for me to meet Joel downtown for lunch to deliver my spare keys. 

I borrowed my coworker's metro pass and rode it one stop, which left me a few blocks from Joel's office.  As I was getting off the train, the guy behind me mumbled something.  I ignored him, which I believe is standard protocol for such situations.  He caught up to me on the escalator and mumbled again, slightly louder, "So, just getting off for lunch?", which I'm sure you'll all agree is the most original pickup line EVER.  I told him "yes" and tried my best to walk away, but he was having none of it.  He walked with me for three blocks, chatting me up with conversation about his business, how important he is, blah blah blah, but since he was just full of himself and not a total dangerous-looking psycho, I figured there was no harm in it.  He was asking me about my job, and then it turned out that we went to the same college, and then he told me he was looking for someone just like me to come work at his big important company.   I realized exactly how lame this line was at the time, but I figured what the hell -- maybe he really does want to give me a fabulous job and pay me lots of money to work from home in  my pajamas.  So I gave him my card.  (After he asked for it, I didn't just throw it at him and tell him to call me, anytime, day or night.)

What should really shock you about that statement is not that I gave my card to a total stranger who tried to pick me up on the shady Baltimore metro, but that I actually had a business card with me.  The only reason I did was because I had re-organized my massive wallet the night before to remove all the Euro coinage that was weighing me down.  God, I'm so professional.  Except for the fact that I'm pretty sure I gave him my outdated card with my old position title.  Whatever.

And then he asked if I'd like to have lunch with him at Panera Bread, and I told him that I was sorry, but I couldn't because I was meeting my fiance for lunch.   It was the first time I've said that lovely French word in a real conversation (as opposed to the many conversations I have with myself in my head and the conversations that I have with the cats when I get home at night, who's my schmoopy kitten-head?  You are!  Yooou are!)

Then I got to tell my fiance that we couldn't go to Panera like he wanted to because I'd just given my card to a random stranger in there. 

So we went to Chipotle instead.

And thus ends the most discombobulated entry in history.  I had my usual, a vegetarian burrito with both kinds of beans and corn salsa, in case you were wondering.  And yes, I do know that the pinto beans have pork in them and I don't care because I'm not really a vegetarian.

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PS - Thank you all so so very much for breaking this site's comment record with your congratulations.  In return, I promise not to become an Interweb Bridezilla.   And I will write The Proposal Story, but be forewarned that it might induce gagging and diabetic comas because it is just that sweet.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

PPS - OMG WE'RE GETTING MARRRRRRIED!!!!

PPPS - I promise, that's the last time I'll do that.

PPPPS, Confidential to Ruthie: Dude, you have to leave an email address when you comment so I can reply!  Yes, I heard, and CONGRATS to you too! 

 

Jetlag dispatch

Hi.  We're back.  The trip was awesome, thanks for asking! 

Since I have already uploaded 497 photos to flickr, I won't bore you with repeating my favorite shots here.  I honestly couldn't pick my favorites if I tried.  I took SO. MANY. PICTURES.  Also, I am sort of extremely jetlagged and am having trouble keeping my eyes open right now.

So how about I just borrow Janet's patented Love/Hate format instead?   

Love: Coming home to my mouthwash and electric toothbrush, both of which were left behind because they took up too much space.  My mouth feels so deliciously clean.

Hate: Having to clean the bathroom sink myself.

Love:  Sleeping in my own bed, which features a real queen mattress and not two twin mattresses shoved together with a giant, uncomfortable seam down the middle. 

Hate: Having to think about what to make for dinner tonight instead of which restaurant to go to.

Love: Having more than two clean outfit options to choose from.

Hate: The enormous pile of laundry staring at me from the corner of the bedroom.  And the rest of the laundry still in the suitcases.

Love:  Snuggling with my kitties, who actually missed us and are being super affectionate and cute. 

Hate: Coming back to cold, rainy weather.  I liked the Mediterranean winter better.

Love:  Being back in touch with the rest of the world.

Hate: My overflowing inbox.

Love: That getting coffee this morning didn't require a special metro ride to a Starbucks and a very confused half-English, half-Spanish conversation about what a " Cafe Americano" really means.

Hate: Not having anywhere to practice my Spanish anymore.

Love: Getting a sesame bagel with cream cheese this morning.

Hate: That I'll have to go to the gym to work off all those calories, instead of walking around Barcelona for exercise. 

And finally, I LOVE that we have finally informed all our family and friends, so I can now show you this picture**:

 

(**Will be getting resized on Thursday so it can go on the correct finger)

Hasta la vista (baby)

In a mere 48 hours, Joel and I will be smack in the middle of a 4-hour layover in Newark, NJ.  At 7pm on Sunday, we'll board our plane for the overnight Barcelona.

It would be fair to say that I'm a little bit excited. 

It would also be fair to say that I'm starting to FREAK OUT A LITTLE BIT.

I panic a little before every trip because that's just how I roll.  But since this is as long trip, and an international trip, I'm really starting to fuh-reak.

I think Joel is expecting me to, like, be able to speak the language in Spain.  Apparently since I was a Spanish major and because I once lived in Madrid for three and a half months, I'm supposed to be able to speak Spanish or something.  Sure, I could say I spoke Spanish... six years ago. Now... creo que no.  I can hardly understand the perverted things the fine hispanic gentlemen yell out me from their third story apartments when I walk home from work.  Plus, the Spanish they speak in Catalonia is not the same Spanish they speak in Madrid.  Nope.  And it's not just the difference between a Southern drawl and a Boston accent.  There was this guy from Barcelona living in my dorm when I was in Madrid who apparently was sort of in love with me.  At least, that's what the other kids told me, I honestly don't know because  I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD ALBERTO SAID TO ME. 

I also feel woefully unprepared for this trip.  We have a lovely list of things to do from Audrey (and seriously, Audrey, THANK YOU SO MUCH MUCHAS GRACIAS) and a couple of travel books, but that's about it.  This really isn't any different from any other vacation Joel and I have taken together, but for some reason it's really stressing me out this time.  This is Joel's first trip to Europe!  In fact, not including Canada, this is his first trip out of the country!  We must do and see everything there is to see!  In the entire country!  In the entire world!  ALL IN ONE WEEK!  Anything less will constitute a complete failure on my part, don't you agree? 

Also, I need to clean my house from top to bottom before we leave because that's what normal people do.   I also need to get a haircut, get my legs waxed, renew my library card, give my neighbor very detailed instructions about how Max likes his filet mignon cooked medium rare and sliced into tiny animal shapes and how Henry will only piss in one litterbox (and even then only if the litter is perfectly raked with diagonal lines) and Madison doesn't like it when you pet him too much, but he also doesn't like it when you ignore him.  There's a delicate balance.  He'll let you know when you've crossed the line by clawing your eye out.

Oh, and I also need to pack.

Other than the panic attack that comes standard with any longish trip, I'm really really excited.  Dude, we're going to SPAIN.  The forecast for Monday is close to 70 degrees.  And I still have sixteen Euros left over from my last trip to Europe.  Score.  people go on trips to countries where they do not speak the language at all every day.  We have all day tomorrow to pack.  Our neighbor has a pile of recycling in the alley that's been there for over a year, so I don't think she'll mind to much if I don't mop the kitchen floor and dust the bedroom blinds before we leave.  Everything will be fine.  Everything wil be wonderful.

I don't know what the internet situation will be at our hotel, and also in case I haven't mentioned it twenty million times already, WE'RE GOING TO SPAIN!  ON VACATION!, so I don't think much posting will be happening.  But I do plan to upload our pictures to Flickr daily if I can, so check there for pictures if you care to.

Adios!

Did I say "whim"?

I was planning to give a little bit of backstory on The Trip later in the week, but I realized after the fiftieth person said "On a whim!?  Who the does that?" that I might have inadvertently made myself sound like a Trust Fund Muffy.  That's not what I meant when I said whim.  I swear.  Dudes, I work for a nonprofit.   Enough said.

What I meant by "on a whim" was that Joel and I have been toying with the idea of going on a winter trip for many weeks.   It's most likely that we will not be able to go anywhere this summer for various reasons, and we both some vacation time to burn thanks to many, many (MANY) weekends spent traveling, working, or both.   For awhile, we were thinking Argentina.  Doesn't Argentina sound awesome?  And it's summer there in January!  Llamas!  Glaciers!  Evita Peron!  I was hooked.  Frommer's Argentina was checked out from the library.  However, the plane tickets, they were pricey.  We could have done it if we skipped Patagonia, but dude.  I am not going to Argentina and skipping Patagonia.  And I'm not going to Patagonia unless Santa leaves me a winning lotto ticket in my stocking next week.

So, Argentina was canceled.  We tried to think of some other warmish places that we could go for cheap.  We basically came up with nothing.  Then, on Friday, Joel called me to say he'd found a deal on Hotwire for seven nights in Barcelona.  Well, once upon a time, I studied abroad in Madrid.  I spent a semester trying to see as much of Spain as I could, and the one city I didn't make it to was Barcelona.   This made me very sad.  I've wanted to go to Barcelona ever since.  And since it's (slightly) warmer there than it is here, I said "book it".  And then I immediately crossed all my fingers and toes and emailed my supervisor, hoping that my vacation request would be approved, since the tickets were nonrefundable. 

They were approved.   Off we go to Barcelona!   In my personal jet!  Which will also be transporting 300 of my closest friends, and will be stopping for a 4-hour layover in Newark, NJ.  Tell me that doesn't sound like a good time.   Whee!  Anyone have a few vicodin they could spare?  Muffy would be forever grateful if you could go ahead and send that over, prior to January 20th.  Just call my personal assistant, he'll give you the address.  If he's not busy scheduling pedicures for my kitties, that is.

All joking aside, I know that Joel and I go on a lot of trips, and I hope that the Internets aren't out there thinking that we're a couple of spoiled asshats.  I don't know why I feel the need to justify our spending, but I do.  And I don't even mean here; I am already sick of explaining to my coworkers why and how we decided to just up and go to Spain.  Peoples, have you seen my car?   I mean, I love my car.  But she's not getting any younger, if you know what I mean.

We live a fairly frugal lifestyle. Joel re-uses ziploc bags, and I refuse to wash my workout clothes until I've worn them at least twice.  I walk to work, Joel rides his bike.  Both our vehicles are over 10 years old.  And in case I haven't mentioned this, we live in Baltimore, one of the cheapest cities in America.  Every time I go to New York or Chicago I just about faint over the prices of things.  When I found out that parking at our hotel back in September was fifty dollars a night, I nearly cried.  That's like... a lot.   Seriously, if you want to live cheap, move south of the Mason-Dixon line.  We may have some killer humidity down here, but livin' is practically free.

Anyway, I'm late for my nightly appointment with Javier, my personal masseur.  I just wanted to clear up that whole "on a whim" thing in case I die of a Holiday Spirit Overdose at my office Christmas Breakfast tomorrow morning.   In the event of such a tragedy, who wants a nonrefundable ticket to Barcelona?

And now, on to more pleasant topics

Joel and I spent the weekend with my family in New Jersey, celebrating Christmas. I realize that Christmas is traditionally held on December 25th, but my baby brother packed up his car and started driving out to Utah on Sunday, so we decided to move Christmas up by a week and a half.  Jesus said he didn't mind. Despite the sleet and snow coming down on Sunday, Michael departed around 2pm and made it to Cleveland around 10pm. He is probably somewhere in the Chicago vicinity at this moment. He starts work at Snowbird on Thursday!   Let's all give my baby brother a hand for not inheriting the worry-wart gene and allowing his big sister to live vicariously through him while he does awesome things.

While Michael was driving west on Route 80, Joel and I were headed south on the NJ Turnpike with 100 pounds of cat litter in the back of Joel's truck. Navigating a cart filled with four 25-lb bags of cat litter to the checkout was probably the truest Crazy Cat Lady experience that I've had thus far, but we needed something to weigh the back of the truck down to provide optimal four-wheel snow driving conditions, and why shouldn't it be something we needed anyway? Unfortunately, what was billed as bona-fide Wintry Mix in New Jersey was nothing but a little bit of wind in Baltimore, so those last two bags were probably overkill.  But hey, I like to play it safe.  The way there were playing this storm up on the news, I was sure we'd have at least a foot of snow and a delayed opening this morning.  Is it bad that I check the forecast compulsively in the winter, and that when I see Wintry Mix, I get all happy inside? Wintry Mix is the key to work closings in Maryland. Come to mama, sleet/snow/rain!

In any case, I highly recommend having Christmas early. I think we should start doing this every year. We had a lovely weekend, there was no traffic despite the many inches of snow and freezing rain that fell, and now we are free to relax and hole up at home to enjoy two four-day weekends in a row. My plans include painting the bedroom, watching a lot of TV, and vacation planning. On somewhat of a whim, Joel and I booked a trip to Barcelona on Friday. We'll be going for a week in January. I am beyond excited.  Audrey, the internet's resident expert on all things Barcelona has already provided me with innumerable suggestions (thanks, Audrey!) and we have several books to peruse, but any suggestions ya'll have for Things Not To Be Missed are welcome. This is probably all I'll be talking about for the next month. Sorry.

Oh, and I finally joined Flickr.  I uploaded some random pictures.  Now what?

What I did on my summer vacation

I don't know what has happened to me lately.  I've been meaning to write the vacation recap post since, oh, the day we came back from vacation, and here it is, fourteen years later (at least that's what it feels like), and I still haven't put the pictures on a memory stick to upload to the home computer.  Clearly the obsessive compulsive part of my brain fell out when I was jumping up and down trying to get the Lake Tahoe water out of my ear.

That's right folks, water was in my ear.  Because I went swimming.  In water.   I hate water, I hate swimming, I am not even fond of taking showers.  But the water in Lake Tahoe was just so unbelievably clear and cool (OK, it was COLD) and refreshing that I actually allowed it to touch my body... AND I ENJOYED IT. 

Oh, and I baked more of the now-famous cookies last night.   Clearly, I have been bodysnatched by aliens.  So let's just get on with this before I lose my mind completely.

I might have had a little bit of coffee this morning, BTW.  Could you tell?

(BTW, "BTW" is one of my favorite sayings recently.   Joel and I use it multiple times a day and I still find it mildly hysterical.  I'm don't mean we say the phrase "by the way".  We say the letters.   It's much funnier that way.  "BTW, you left the window open in my car last night.  Shockingly, no one stole it (not really shocking, if you've ever seen my car, especially lately since it's become the local pigeon's favorite poop-target)"  Or, "I have a meeting tonight so I'll be home late, BTW".  It makes mundane talk funny!  Try it!  Really!)

This is my first 5-day work week in SIX WEEKS, BTW.  And I might be going slightly insane, BTW.

BACK TO THE POINT.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by Operation Pink Herring

On my summer vacation I had a really great time.  My boyfriend and me went to lots of cool places and saw lots of cool stuff. 

We rode on a plane that flew all the way from Baltimore to Phoenix.  Phoenix is in Arizona.  One time I went to Arizona before, and I really didn't like it because someone told me there were going to be scorpions in my sheets and snakes in my shoes and I am scared of scorpions and snakes.  I got really scared when we thought we were going to miss our connection because our plane was really late.  I really didn't want to stay in Phoenix with all the snakes and scorpions.  But luckily we made our flight and it was all OK.  We made it to Reno which is in Nevada.  There were slot machines in the airport in Reno.   We got our rented car and it was a really cool car and Joel drove it to our hotel.  We went to sleep and woke up and ate breakfast the next day.  Joel found out that there was a Sierra Trading Post Outlet in Reno and he got really excited because that is like his favorite store.  We went there and bought some stuff.

I bought some socks.  They're comfy.  After that, we went to Virgina City.  Virginia City was fun and cheesy and depressing all at the same time. There were fake cowboys and some guy had a panther on a leash that you could pay to take pictures with.  I wanted to take a picture with it, but I didn't because the panther didn't look happy and it made me sad.

We rode on an old train and took some tours of old mines.

The tour guides were not very nice and talked really really fast.

I didn't find any silver which was sad.  My face got really shiny, almost as shiny as silver though.

After that, we drove to Lake Tahoe and it was really, really pretty.

We did a lot of hiking and it was really pretty.  And we did a lot of driving and it was also really pretty.

Did you know that Lake Tahoe is the second deepest lake in the United States and it holds 39 trillion gallons of water?  It's true. 

Here's another lake we hiked to.  It was pretty too.

I really wanted to see a bear, but we didn't see any.  The only animals we saw were chipmunks and this lizard who ran really fast.

We also went to see Squaw Valley where the Olympics were once and to Donner Lake where people had to eat each other once. 

We mostly just ate at restaurants, though.

One day we went to the beach and it was really, really pretty.

I really, really had a lot of fun and I hope I can go back some day.

The END.

Back, officially

Well, we're back.  Technically we were back at 12:30am on Sunday morning, but today we are back to real life: the grind, if you will.  Our Sunday-Monday Vacation Recovery Pseudo Weekend was spent staying up all night with jet-lag insomnia, plundering the Tivo cache, doing 179 loads of laundry, and trying to win back the affection of the cats, who took a vote and decided unanimously that they like the petsitter, who played with them every day, fed them treats, and sent me cute email updates (with photos!), better than us.  I can't really say that I blame them, but it would be nice if Max would stop sleeping with her picture under his pillow.

Lake Tahoe was fabulous.  Beyond fantastically gorgeous.  I knew it was going to be pretty, since I assumed all those hundreds of thousands of visitors they claim visit every year weren't coming just for the slots.  But I couldn't fathom just how beautiful it actually was.  Our first view of Lake Tahoe took my breath away (literally, hello elevation gain!), and I found myself saying "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been" pretty much every day.

As expected, I have a mountain of work to catch up on and a mile-long list of chores to do at home, but I'll post some pictures and a recap of our highlights during the week.  And after that I'll stop babbling about vaaaaycahsun and get back to being a bitter hag. 

Return from the Fake Vacation

I was going to announce that "I'm back!", but I didn't really go anywhere, so I guess "I'm (still) here!" would be slightly more appropriate... Um, hi!  How've you been?  Apparently ya'll have been busy, since there are currently 75 unread items in my Google Reader and I'm 10 days behind on the sage advice of Dear Abby.  But that's all good!  Once the OMG thank goodness you're back I have ten important things I need you to do right this very second rush dies down, I look forward to reading each and every one of those posts.

I was unplugged for large majority of last week.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but Joel and I live in the stone age.   No, we didn't get rid of the Tivo.  But we still have dial up internet.  I know, I know!  Trust me, I know.  No one has dial up internet anymore.  Except us.  We got by for a long time by "borrowing" our neighbor's wireless high speed, but then they wised up and put a password on their  network.  Fortunately, they didn't wise up too much, because the password was identical to their network name, and we continued to surf the internet for free for a while longer... and then, the password changed, and I've not been able to crack it.  So, now we're all Netscape, all the time, baby.  And it sucks.

I don't know if you've noticed, but Teh Internets cost a lot of money!  Plus, I spend all day in front of a computer, so I really don't need to go home and sit in front of a different computer.  Honesty, that's the real reason I have never pushed for an internet upgrade.  I don't WANT to spend all my time at home on the computer.  Having dial-up is like not keeping any cookies in the house -- it removes the temptation.  It frees up my time at home for more enriching things, like making smooching noises while buffing the Tivo with a silk handkerchief.

So anyway, that's my lame excuse for my internet absence this past week.  I was totally PLANNING to post pictures of my progress on The Wall, to maybe even write a post or two, to check in on my work email and keep up with all my personal emails.  That lasted through Saturday afternoon, when the aforementioned Evil Meeting, which was incredibly boring but at least had a wireless high speed connection, ended.  I was honestly so exhausted from the hard physical labor (I'm not kidding) of working on the wall that I didn't even have the energy to upload pictures from the camera, let alone type letters and make words.

Honestly, it was wonderful to unplug for the week.  I did have a nagging feeling that the world outside my little rowhouse could be ending and I wouldn't even be able to read the blog posts recapping the catastrophe in a concise and witty manner, but I told that feeling shut up and get back to work.  Ain't no breaks for gals on the chain gang.   And I did feel like I was on a chain gang at several points during the week, because I forced myself to keep my sights on the real reason for this "vacation": finishing the behemoth home improvement/art/hard physical labor project that I started on a whim three summers ago.

And I almost finished.  Almost.

This is not to imply that I failed, there was no way that I could have realistically finished the whole thing in one week, but I did get a TON of work done, and if it doesn't rain, I may just finish it this weekend! 

Don't worry, I already have some ideas about my next project.  Because that's how I roll.

Here are a few pictures that are already outdated because I haven't uploaded anything from the camera since Tuesday.  And also, I foolishly tried to post these at home and it took an hour (AN HOUR!) to post these three pictures, and after that I just gave up.  Um, enjoy!  I'll hopefully post more this week after I catch up on the piles of work that people keep throwing at me.

If you say you can't tell what that is, I'll cut you.  Uh, I mean, that's fine! It was supposed to be "abstract", OK?  (Fine, it's a school of fish made from a chili peppers plate, some multicolored coral, and a crab peeking out on the right)

This was my attempt at a signature embedded in the wall, which didn't' turn out quite as well as our address did in another section (which I won't be posting pictures of for obvious reasons).  But hey, it's there.  See, in yellow?  It says "JRS 2007".

Here is a little crab family.  I was really, really afraid that these crabs would look like crap, but I took the plunge because I needed some extra sea creatures, and this is Maryland, after all, so it's kind of a l law that crabs have to be all over EVERYTHING.  I am pretty pleased with how they came out.

And, that's that.  It's kind of amazing to look at that picture and realize it's from only a few days ago, because now that entire portion of the wall is covered. Not a cinderblock in sight.  And after all, that was the whole point of this little endeavor. 

Now if you'll pardon me, I have to make up for all the coffee I didn't get a chance to drink last week.