This morning I was 2/3 of the way to work when I spotted two dogs rooting through the trash out on the sidewalk across the street. There was no one around and they were obviously roaming free, so I crossed the street to see if they were lost or hurt. They were two young, friendly pit bulls with no collars or tags, happily sniffing the garbage bags. I stood back a bit to avoid scaring them, but one immediately trotted over and started licking my leg.
I debated what to do as the first dog happily slobbered all over my feet and begged me to play with him and the other continued his methodical inspection of the trash. Just as I was getting out my phone to call the police non-emergency hotline to report them to animal control, a door opened up the block and a man came out with his recycling. I asked if he knew who the dogs belonged to and he said they lived a few houses down and he'd knock on the door and get the owner. I left, looking over my shoulder after a block to see the first dog sitting down, head cocked, watching me. His companion never stopped digging through the trash, which, by the way, was placed illegally on the sidewalk without a trash can. Five days before trash pickup.
I'm happy that I didn't have to be responsible for sending these dogs to the city shelter where they'd likely be put down. They were friendly, they seemed to be well-treated, they have a home. But this kind of blatant irresponsibility makes me fume. You cannot let your dogs roam unattended on a very busy street with no identification! They could run off, be hit by a car, be antagonized by the hoodlums that roam that neighborhood, bite someone who threatens them. If you're too busy to put a collar and a leash on your dog and take it for a walk in the morning, then maybe you shouldn't have a dog in the city. In fact, you know why I don't have a dog? Because I live in the city, I travel too much, and I don't have time to take it for walks. If I didn't have a cat who spooks at the sound of a truck driving by and if I didn't live in the world's smallest house, I would have rounded up those dogs and taken them home. Take note, people who live on that block. Your dogs are cute and next time I might just steal them.
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Other than my feelings of hostility towards irresponsible city pet owners, life is good. I spent the last two weekends celebrating: first, a friend's bachelorette-hood at the Jersey shore, and then our wedding anniversary in Colorado. Both included copious amounts of sunscreen, one ended with me vomiting in a Wendy's restroom. We returned home on very late on Monday night and found a killer parking space right on our block. As much as I love traveling and friends and fun, man, it's good to be home. What have you been up to, internet?
Although I consider myself a relatively seasoned traveler, I’ve never mastered the art of packing.Depending on my mood right before the trip, I either woefully underpack, telling myself it’s perfectly fine to wear the same sweater for an entire week or I end up lugging a suitcase filled with ridiculous just-in-case items and four potential outfits for every possible type of weather.
I wish I find some sort of a balance, and before every trip I tell myself that this is going to be the time I get it right.But instead, I found myself on a train to Boston on Friday with the following items in my suitcase:
Five (5) books. Two were being returned to NPW, so I guess effectively I only brought three books with me. Three books for one weekend it totally acceptable. I was halfway through one when I left, so I definitely needed a backup. And what if I didn’t like the backup?
One (1) Laptop, whose only use was to type up a draft of the post you're reading now. Theoretically, I could have found somewhere with internet at some point and… done work? Checked my email? I am not really sure.
Two (2) DVDs, which I brought just in case the backup book and the backup’s backup both end up sucking. Plus, the DVDs justified the bringing of the laptop. I watched neither.
Two (2) faux-down coats. OK, a coat was actually a smart move since it’s October and it was Boston and it was SNOWING on Friday, but I probably could have gotten away with just the puffy faux-down coat and left the puffy faux-down vest at home.
Three (3) pairs of shoes. I actually wore two of the three, so I guess that's actually not bad.
One (1) flat iron, which I have used approximately five times in my entire life and did not use on this trip.
One (1) hat, in case my hair still looked bad after flat-ironing, I guess.
Enough travel-sized toiletries to last me a month
If I had to choose one packing personality for the rest of my life, it’d surely be The Underpacker.At least when I underpack, it makes my return home that much sweeter.My moisturizer!My pajamas!A clean pair of socks!My toothbrush charger!They all seem so novel and wondrous.But if I’m in an overpacking mood right before the trip, I just can’t talk myself out of packing twelve of everything.I mean, I wouldn’t want NPWto think I’m lame and gross because I wear the same sweater two days in a row! I wouldn’t want to be stuck without a cute pair of shoes if Joel and I are on vacation and decide to go out a fancy dinner! And certainly I need to bring a hairdryer, two hairbrushes AND my flatiron just in case.
I’m thinking of trying out the idea of a packing list for my next trip to see if that helps, but somehow I doubt it.I think this is just one of those ingrained personality traits, like always being anxious about missing a flight or train.I mean, if packing and traveling were too easy, there’d be no beauty in coming home.
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So, speaking of Boston, it's lovely! And so are NPW, Heidiand Janssen and Bart, who I traipsed around New England with this weekend. I've had the pleasure of meeting both NPW and Heidi before, and Janssen and Bart were exactly as I'd picture them (except Janssen talks faster than I'd imagined. It's funny what ends up fitting your mental image of someone and what doesn't, isn't it? I certainly never sat around postulating about the speed of Janssen's speech, but that's what struck me at first. Heidi tells me that she thinks NPW and I both have accents. I agree that NPW has an adorable accent when she says "about", but I didn't think Heidi had one at all. And clearly, I don't have an accent.) We went on the world's worst ghost tour, which was so bad it was hilarious, we saw the 25,000 pumpkins at the World's Largest Pumpkin Festival, we gossiped and twittered like the nerd maniacs we are. It almost made me want to move to Boston, except for the whole IT'S REALLY COLD THERE part.
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Some of my favorite photos from the weekend:
NPW "participating" in our "interactive" "ghost hunt" in Salem, MA.
After my official work obligations were completed, we were all set to go America tourist all over everybody's asses. Our original plan was to hit up the town of Stirling, see the castle and whatever else there was to see, and then jet over to St. Andrew's to absorb some golfing culture and get my dad his much-coveted St. Andrew's golf shirt. It seemed simple enough, looking at a map. Stirling and St. Andrew's are both relatively near Glasgow and Edinburgh, where the major train stations are, and only 75 miles apart from each other. It seemed very doable at the time*. Looking at a map now, I have no idea why it seemed feasible, but it did. Either the travel bug renders me even more impervious to logic than usual, or I really have inherited a full copy of my mother's Vacation Overachiever Gene. In any case, we did not make it to St. Andrew's. But it's OK, because Stirling was very pretty. And we managed to get my dad some bootleg St. Andrew's gear in a department store back in Glasgow, which is what REALLY matters.
So! Stirling. Bonnie place.
The train ride from Glasgow to Stirling was typically idyllic. There were lots of sheep and the grass was very, very green. We followed the Back Walk along the border of the old city wall, meandering higher and higher until we finally reached the castle at the top of the hill.
The border of the castle is just surrounded by these purple plants, which I won't even try to identify. The air was positively filled with dandelion-like floaters. You can actually see them in some of the pictures. It almost looked like snow!
We spent a good part of the day walking around the castle, taking a free tour, stunning the tour guide with my knowledge about castle engineering (kitchens are far from the main house because they catch on fire!), you know. The usual.
(The formal gardens and courtyard)
(Dude, even dandelions are pretty in Scotland)
(Another close-up of a flower. [Insert exasperated sigh from travel companion here.] I just cannot help myself.)
After stopping for some lunch (pizza), we walked across the city to visit Stirling Bride. Which, you know, is only cool because BRAVEHEART ONCE FOUGHT THERE.
The Battle of Stirling Bridge took place in 1297 and that just blows my mind. I forget just how young our country is.
And that was Stirling! One day, 123 pictures! I think that might just be a personal record. I think I'll go have a cookie.
*It might have been doable if we'd rented a car. Maybe.
Before we move on to Thursday, let's rewind a bit to the Glasgow Central Station, Wednesday evening. Dragging our luggage through the somewhat confusing station (erm, everything is a bit confusing when you have been awake for 36 hours), we suddenly started to hear shouting in the distance. Shouting and... singing? When we entered the platform where our next train to Bishopton was located, we saw the source of all the commotion. About a hundred people were lined up to board a neighboring train. Many were carrying flags, lots were wearing kilts. Everyone was singing. We couldn't understand a word they sang, but we deduced that they were headed to some sort of sporting event (a soccer game, we learned once we arrived at our hotel).
Generally, I do not enjoy watching sports at all. If I actually know someone who is playing, that's one thing... but otherwise, I'd rather do pretty much anything than sit and watch a sporting event. Football? Boring. Soccer? Boring. Baseball? BORING. And it's not that I haven't tried; I really, really have. I just can't make myself care. But I think that if giant foam fingers and seven-dollar hotdogs were replaced by kilts and drunken Scots singing their hearts out, I might just be able to get on board with the whole thing.
So, after that train departed, our train departed, and we arrived in Bishopton. When I travel for work, I don't get to choose the hotels I stay in. I stay where everyone else is staying, I just email the travel coordinator with the nights I need a room and POOF! Magically a reservation is born. Most of the time this is lovely. Other times, the room is accidentally booked under some horrid misspelling of my last name, or it's not booked in my name at all, or I'm given the address of the wrong Hyatt in Chicago and that is not quite so lovely. In any case, the hotels we use are always the same type of businessy chains and everything is always fine. I never bother to do any research, I just print out the address and phone number and shove it in my travel folder.
We were a bit surprised when we arrived at the designated hotel for this trip. I've never worked with the company that ran this meeting before (this was actually my coworker's trip, but she didn't want to go so I volunteered to take her place... I'm nice like that), so maybe they stay at super-swanky hotels all the time. Maybe all the normal hotels in Scotland were booked up. Maybe all the hotels in Scotland look like castles and have butlers. I have no idea. But this hotel, it was amazing. It was more like a castle. A castle surrounded by a million bunny rabbits.
Note the first: The Narration. Please remember that I was jetlagged. I mean, I always narrate videos like that, but at least this time I sort of have an excuse. Jetlag made me do it!
Note the second: Hello, Governor! Although I have no idea where this phrase actually comes from, we are aware that this has nothing to do with Scotland. At all. That did not stop me from laughing hysterically every time Joel said it. Jetlag made me do it! (Actually, that's a lie. I still think it's funny.)
Note the third: The Bunnies. Apparently, bunnies are to Scotland what squirrels are to New York. The cab driver that dropped us off told us, his thick Scottish accident full of disdain, that "this place is overrun with rabbits. Being from a city that is overrun with a different kind of vermin, we found this hilarious.
Bishopton! Day 3! (Thursday!)
We hadn't planned to do much on Thursday. We'd budgeted the morning for sleeping in and recovering, and then I was supposed to attend two meetings back to back in the afternoon. But then it turned out that whoops! One of the meetings had been rescheduled for yesterday, and they forgot to tell me! End result: we had three extra hours to do as we pleased on Thursday morning. Instead of sitting in a conference room for three hours, we went for a long walk by the the river near the hotel (which we'd identified as the River Clyde).
I'm certainly not complaining. (I am just really, really glad that I decided to double check the meeting time before hopping in a cab back to Glasgow to sit in a conference room by myself.)
Once we made it down to the path (construction of a golf course was blocking the normal route from the hotel to the riverbank, so we had to slog through a muddy trail in the woods for a bit) we had a great view of the front of the hotel. You see what I mean about the clouds? I loved them. They made everything look dramatic and beautiful.
To the left, the path extended as far as I could see along the riverbank.
We followed the path in the other direction until it ended under the M8 highway. We walked back along the road at a brisk pace, since we'd gone much too far to retrace our steps and still make it to my remaining meeting on time and we weren't exactly sure which road led to our out-of-the-way hotel/castle. But in the end, we made it back right on time, and I even got to snap this picture along the highway. It's one of my favorites from the trip, so I guess I should thank whoever rescheduled that meeting.
Ah, Scotland. Bonnie, bonnie Scotland. We have now been back for, oh, two weeks? One week? It's now September (WTF? SEPTEMBER?) so maybe we've been back for a month? I have no idea. I can't stop crying over that video of the hugging lion long enough to figure it out. And yes, I'm aware that this video was probably a huge internet sensation about seven years ago (I like to jump on bandwagons after they've already done a few victory laps), so I think that would make it 1992 right now? Merry Christmas?
Anyway, I've been meaning to write a post about Scotland. Scotland was awesome! You should all go to Scotland. Oh, wait. You've already been. And you're already planning to go. So... nevermind! Good job, everyone! Scotland, ho!
Every day I think "I should really write a post about Scotland", and then every day I don't write a post about Scotland because I just don't have time to do it justice. And then that gets me to thinking about how I still haven't made a photo album for our trip to Barcelona. Or our trip to Lake Tahoe. Which was... one year ago. Wait, Nessie who? Oh, right. Scotland.
So here is my brilliant solution, internets. I am going to do this in segments. Smart idea, no? I wish I had thought of it myself! Oh, wait. What were you saying?
BWI and Newark! Day 1! (Tuesday!)
Let me begin by saying: I am not at all a fan of overnight flights. I have enough trouble sleeping in our Tempurpedic Bed O' Magic, with my well-loved sleeping mask and my Special Walmart Fan for background noise. Sleeping on an overnight flight is a total joke. But that's how the world works, you fly eastbound over the Atlantic and you're going to be grouchy, groggy, and nauseous the next day. But our flights over were about as comfortable as we could have possibly have hoped: the puddle jumper from Baltimore to Newark was fairly smooth and didn't even smell too strongly of piss and Mystery Airline Bathroom Cleaner; the flight from Newark to Edinburgh was empty enough that we had a whole row of three seats to ourselves and we had a choice of 20 on-demand movies and our own personal TV screens in the back of every seat. (I watched When in Vegas, and it was actually pretty entertaining. Just in case you were wondering.)
Edinburgh! Day 2! (Wednesday!)
By the time we'd arrived in Edinburgh, I'd practiced saying Eh-din-burr-ah enough times in my head to sort of get it right and we actually managed to get an hour or two of sleep. The airport had an extremely helpful information desk that sold us tickets to the Airlink shuttle bus and told us where to pick it up and everyone had the most delightful accents on earth. Also, I brushed my teeth and managed to order a coffee without too much confusion. Score.
We made it onto the double decker Airlink bus, which dropped us off at the Waverly bus station in downtown Edinburgh. I have to commend the Scots on the ease of use with all of their public transportation: the recorded announcements that played on all the buses and trains we took were clear and easy to understand. There were electronic boards listing all the departure times and gates, the gates were all clearly and logically numbered. When the train or bus started moving, an announcement would come on saying "This train is for Glasgow, calling in stop1, stop2, stop3, and stop4. Next stop, stop1." As someone who has accidentally taken a bus from Baltimore to New York (which is in New York) when she meant to go to Newark (which is in New Jersey) (which is a different state than New York) in the past, this was reason enough to give Scotland an A+ in my book.
We managed to store our bags in the train station for the day, buy some breakfast/lunch/WHATEVER IT WAS FOOD, take out some pounds from the "cashpoint", and make our way out of the train station. I just pointed the camera around taking pictures of all kind of buildings with no idea what they actually were, but I am sure that Jenners is a department store, and that this is Princes Street. We walked along Princes Street until we were directly below Edinburgh Castle, and then we hiked our way on up.
We spent the rest of the day in the castle, which was enormous. This is the first real castle I've ever seen, and it was even cooler after having just read Pillars of the Earth. I got a real thrill out of knowing what a "keep" was. And then I fell asleep standing up for a few minutes and took a few blurry pictures of my feet.
A note on the weather weather: maybe I'm a little biased at the moment because Baltimore is so disgustingly sweaty, but I thought the much-maligned British weather was downright delightful. Jeans and a sweatshirt were comfortable each day we were there, and I think I'd be perfectly happy living with summer temperatures in the 50s and 60s. It rained a bit (we were told it was the wettest August on record, or in 50 years, or something like that), but it was never a stay-inside-all-day-and-watch-movies kind of rain. This first day in Edinburgh was the rainiest day of our trip, but we were fine with rain jackets and no umbrella, even being outside most of the day. It misted on several other occasions, but it wasn't even enough to be an inconvenience. The sun was absent most of the time, but the cloudy and overcast skies were just incredibly dramatic; not at all depressing.
After we'd seen all we could see at the castle, we made our way down the Royal Mile and back to the Waverly Train Station. We retrieved our bags, bought tickets to Glasgow and got on the train.
We made it the Queen Street Station in Glasgow, successfully navigated ourself to the Central Train Station in Glasgow and caught our next train to Bishopton - where our almost-embarrassingly-super-duper-fancy hotel was located - and what's that? You'd like a video tour of our hotel suite? Well, I declare, it must be your lucky day, Internet! Because it just so happens that I took a half-delusional, very sleep-deprived video of our room when we arrived! So what I need you all to do is to cross your fingers and hope real hard that tonight I'll actually be able to locate said video on our home computer. I recently reorganized everything on there and there is a slight, teensy chance that I might have accidentally "organized away" the few videos I took on the trip.
Peace out, to be continued, happy Friday, et cetera et cetera!
So, I sort of forgot how rough jetlag is. It's 6:18am, according to the computer. It's 11:18am according to the clock on the desk here. It's six days ago according to my body. And also, I'm tired.
Scotland is glorious. It's so nice being in a foreign country where everyone speaks English, even though I can't understand a word most people are saying here. It all just sounds so pretty. There are more kilts being worn around on the street on an average Wednesday than I would have expected, which is awesome, obviously.
The hotel that was chosen for me (by my work) for these first three days is beyond ridiculous. Our room overlooks a river with sheep-dotted hillside behind it. Kiera Knightly and Steven Segal have apparently both slept in the bed we slept in last night, we're told. I can't find the hairdryer, although the butler (yes, butler) assures me it's "in the drawer". There are a lot of drawers. I think the hairdryer might have its own apartment next door.
We landed in Edinburgh yesterday morning and spent the day staggering around Edinburgh Castle. We took the train to Glasgow last night, and we'll be based here for the rest of the trip. I uploaded our pictures so far to Flickr. I'll be adding more pictures to that set as we go if you want to check back during the week. But first I have to go take a nap. For the rest of the day.
So.... it's the eighteenth of August, my calendar tells me. That means I am leaving for Scotland, um, tomorrow! How about that?
I have not even opened the lovely Frommer's Scotland book I so studiously borrowed from the library three weeks ago.
I realized this morning that we probably should obtain a power adapter or converter thingiemabober, but I have no idea which kind.
I have not packed.
I have not finished reading Twilight for the third time.
I think it might be cold in Scotland.
I am not sure where my passport is.
But most importantly: despite several diligent web searches, I have not been able to find Ewan McGregor's address.
HALP.
So, internet, I may not see you for awhile. Don't rob our house, we have three vicious attack cats armed with a pink piggie and an arsenal of Aflac duck keychains.
Although I've been to Vermont several times before (twice with Joel and at least once with my family), this was my first time visiting the Green Mountain State in the summer. It was like a whole different state, and I felt like I was seeing everything for the first time. Sure, it was beautiful and white and snowy in the winter, but it was also COLDCOLDCOLDCOLD. Beyond cold. Cold makes for great skiing, but it also makes for me being extremely unhappy. I could not get over how gorgeous Vermont is in the summertime - there are wildflowers everywhere, the mountains the background are covered as far as the eye can see in greenery, and the wildflowers... seriously, they are EVERYWHERE.
We landed in Burlington on Saturday afternoon, and all I could think about at that moment was getting some hand lotion. I'd forgotten put any in my purse, and after two hours of dry airplane air, I was DYING. I could not wait for our checked bag to arrive so I could get some out of my toiletries kit, no. "I need to find a Body Shop the second we get off this plane so I can get some hand lotion out of one of their testers," I told Joel. "Uhhh... I'm not sure if there are any Body Shops in this airport," he told me. Nonsense! There is at least one Body Shop in EVERY airport, I thought. I have seen quite a few airports, and trust me - this is not the first time I've forgotten to pack any hand lotion. I know where to get some free moisturizer in a pinch, don't you worry.
Yeah, there were no Body Shops. There wasn't even a food court. Nor was there a separate arrival and departure gate. There were no cops hovering curbside, ready to issue tickets to anyone who dared to turn off their ignition while unloading the car. I realized we were not in Kansas anymore. And then I realized that I actually had packed some lotion in my purse.
We had lunch in Burlington with my friend Sarah, who has just moved to Vermont to be a real live doctor, and then we headed off in our rental minivan (we'd requested a compact car, but the BVT Thrifty had all of three available cars, so we happily took the minivan, Massachusetts plates and all). Joel decided to take the scenic route so I could enjoy the beautiful views. I promptly fell asleep and woke up in the driveway at his parents' house. What, all that hand-lotion searching had me exhausted.
We spent the rest of the week with his family near Stowe. I wanted to do something "Vermonty" every single day, and I think I succeeded.
We drove out to Cabot, VT and visited the place where Cabot cheese is made. We didn't get to see all that much since it was a Sunday and therefore the actual factory was closed, but we did get to eat our weight in free samples. Joel warned me that Vermont's version of "sharp" might be a little ahem, stronger than I was used to, and that it might not be a good idea for me to shovel the entire bowl of "Seriously Sharp" samples into my piehole, but I was starving so I didn't listen. Oh. My. Gah. Not only was that shit SHARP, it was the most delicious cheese I've ever tasted in my life. We brought two two-pound bricks home with us. Four pounds of deliciously sharp cheddar. I cannot wait until our stupid Safeway brand cheddar is all used up so I can bite into those babies.
Day 3: We were outdoorsy
My mom is going to be so proud when she reads this: WE DID TWO HIKES IN ONE DAY.
First, we went to see Moss Glen Falls, which wasn't a very long hike, but it was a hike nonetheless. I took lots of pictures of flowers and berries and fungi and general greenery, and then we hopped into the Massachusetts minivan and drove to Smuggler's Notch, where we did a very long, very steep hike and saw more trees, moreflowers, more water and a whole bunch of very, very green mountains.
On the way home, we got a "creamy", which is pretty much a soft ice cream cone, only better. Because it's called a "creamy". Or "creemy", "creamie", or "creemie", depending on the preference of whoever made the sign.
Day 4: We went canoing
We rented a canoe, threw it on top of our Massachusetts minivan, and drove out to the local reservoir to paddle around for the afternoon. We saw multiple beaver lodges, a couple of loonsand a dude kayaking with his dog.
After dinner, Joel suggested that we take the canoe out on the river, and well... the sun was setting on one side, the full moon was out on the other and I didn't have to paddle at all because the river just took us along (and Joel steered). Now, THAT'S the way to canoe.
Since it was twilight there were tons out animals out and about, and we saw: two beavers swimming, a mama duck with twelve ducklings, several small sandpiper-type birds, another loon, and a gigantic owl. I managed to get exactly none of them on film. Oh, well.
Day 5: I shot a gun
Now, I am not a fan of guns. Up until last week, I'd never held one in my hand, let alone shot one - and that was perfectly fine with me. But Joel really wanted to take me a-shootin', so after a quick lesson and some practice shooting at cansin the backyard, we piled into the Massachusetts minivan and drove out to the local gravel pit. (Which, incidentally, was surrounded by MORE GORGEOUS SCENERY. God, Vermont, give it a break one in awhile).
Not only was shooting more fun than I'd anticipated, but I was actually a pretty decent shot! Now that I come to think about it, that's probably why it was kind of fun.
Not to worry, though. I only shot at paper targets, and I practically threw myself in front of an adorable little woodchuck (who has been destroying the family's garden all summer) to keep Joel from shooting at it.
Day 6: We went to the Ben and Jerry's factory
Enough said.
That evening, we went out to see the sunset. I took onemillionpictures, naturally.
I could really get to liking Vermont, if only it didn't get so damn cold in the winter.
Day 7: We went Champ-watching
On our last day, we said our goodbyes in the morning, and then spent the afternoon in Burlington before our flight departed. Burlington is an adorable little town (ahem, "big city"), but the thing I love most about it is Champ. For those of you not in "the know", Champ is the mythical Lake Monster that lives in Lake Champlain. I have been obsessed with Champ since our last trip up to Vermont in December 2006, and my favorite Champ Fact is that he is protected by both Vermont and New York State law, should he ever be proved to exist.
Alas, we did not see Champ because it was too hazy. Maybe we'll see Nessie next month when we're in Scotland.
The entire photo set is on Flickr, and there are a fewmore videos on Vimeo. If you watch the videos, just know that I really, really like loons. Just because they're called loons.
Intuitively, it seems that a vacation should always seem shorter than it actually was - the weekends always fly by, so why do I feel like I've been gone for more like six months than a measly ten days?
I have a million pictures to upload from our week in Vermont and about a hundred thousand from the scary and awesome bachelorette weekend at the Jersey shore.
I missed you internet, but not as much as my 185 unread work emails missed me, it seems. Fill me in - what did I miss?
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)
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 SOMUCH 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.
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?
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?
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 wenttoArizona 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.
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.
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.
