Cape Cod getaway

Happy anniversary Mr. and Mrs. Lucas!

Two years we've been married.

Two whole years last Sunday.

So to celebrate we decided to take a trip.  And if you follow any of my obnoxious tweets you know we rounded Cape Cod and settled for a long weekend near the tip, in North Truro.

Our hotel was right there on the beach, and at night at high tide you could just about spit right into the ocean.

Corey could have.  I, being a proper lady, am not proficient in spitting.

It.  Was.  Magical.

Not the spitting.  The weekend, it was lovely.

First, the entire elf shoe that is the cape is just one awesome, sandy beach chunk of land that has the feel of vacation and relaxation the second you cross the Bourne Bridge.

We stopped in Sandwich, Corey's least favorite place on the cape and I could see why: it was my favorite.  Antique stores and museums as far as the eye could see.  Then there was this gem:

Hello Captain Scott, your crabcake sandwich was absolutely deeee-vine.  And Corey says thanks for the memories....of some rockin' fried shrimp.

We stayed in North Truro through Sunday, our anniversary, where we consumed large amounts of fried seafood, cooked seafood, seafood mixed with other seafood and chocolate.

Oh the chocolate.

I ate cake at 10:30 in the morning. And ice cream. And candy.

Because I can. I'm an adult.

We walked the beach in the mornings; one morning witnessing a particularly hungry seagull shake the living daylights out of its breakfast, a good sized crab.

"It's the circle of life."

Indeed. But that circle is terribly violent, for goodness sake.

But I digress.

Corey loves, loves, loves taking pictures. I usually have no time behind the lens, unless I'm directed to snap a picture of Corey on the beach, Corey on the balcony, Corey in the vineyard, Corey doing his goofy dance in his underwear and socks, etc.

He's really good at it.

This was our view across the bay toward Provincetown.

"Ooooooo...."

We spent a few hours each day in Provincetown, an iddy biddy little village at the very end of the cape.  I would say it rivals Saratoga in cuteness, but don't tell my precious home that.  However, what we saw and who we met could alone fill its own post.

If you don't already know why a couple-a kids from small towns like Corey and me would have a hard time just knowing where it was safe to look, then your mommies and daddies probably don't want you to know.

I found myself in a few situations in the art galleries where I was face to face with things I don't see in my day to day routines.

Unless my day to day routines involved touring local strip joints.

TMI?

I had to fight the urge to giggle and run from the buildings.

Remember, adult.

Safe places: the taffy shop, the ice cream shop, and that home furnishing store that had three Golden Retrievers sitting outside.

Although most of our actual anniversary was spent laying around the hotel room watching football while Corey fought a terrible headache, Sunday was my favorite day.  Large breakfast in the hotel's cafe, antique/craft fair/bake sale in N. Truro and a jazz festival at the vineyard down the street from our room.

First, I'm a sucker for breakfast.  I like food and I like mornings, a good breakfast literally makes my day.

Second, I'm a sucker for arts and crafts, and antiques, and bake sales.  This was all wrapped up into one large event.  Yes, Corey did have to drag me away from the beautiful Polish dishware, but just having the opportunity to look was a dream come true.

Obviously it does not take much for me...

And Third:

I love vineyards.

I love jazz.

And I love this guy.  And this guy was having a good time.

We left early on Monday.  It was time.  After a full three days of being on the go we were tired.  And Corey missed his dog.

I'm not going to say the first two years of our marriage have been candies and roses. 

Unless you count actual make-up candy and roses.  In that case, I've ingested my weight in chocolate.

I'd imagine anyone thrown into a share-everything-including-life's-biggest-decisions-and-a-bathroom situation is going to struggle at the beginning.

But things are starting to shape up.

Corey and I went on a vacation together and had a really good time.  We love each other.  We enjoy being together.  And we genuinely wanted to celebrate being together.

Despite anything that happened in our first two years, I think our future looks good.




...as long as there is still some chocolate.

Adventures in the Air...port

Oh the joys of traveling.

And by traveling I mean any mode of ground transportation.

Like driving the open road.  Taking a train and enjoying the scenery.  Or busing across country forming bonds with strangers and singing show tunes to pass the time.

In no way would I put "joy" in the same sentence with "flying." 

Especially not now, as I recover from my trip back home from Washington.

Yes, I did make it home.

Yes, I do still have all of the same (plus some) affects I took with me.

But boy did I have some time of it.

...

My journey began Sunday night as I made my way through Seattle's airport.  Have you ever attempted this maze?  First you have to find the security checkpoint, not easy at 10pm when half of everything is shut down and you wonder if they really would make you walk all the way down the the end of the airport.

They do.

Then, if like me you leave from gate "N" as in Nowhere Near Here, you have to walk down a series of halls, down several flights of stairs and take a train halfway across the tarmac.

Then, if like me, when you leave your wallet at the security checkpoint and are paged over the loudspeaker you have to walk all the way back to the beginning and start again.

This is why you give yourself plenty of time.

Unless you know your head is screwed on straight.

My flight left at 11:30pm.  Also known as two hours past my bedtime.  I hadn't slept since the night before, and even then it wasn't a sound sleep, so I expected to nod off for at least part of the four hour flight to Washington-Dulles Airport.

Silly dreamer.  Of course I didn't sleep.  How could I when every bump and wiggle had me convinced the plane was going to break apart in mid air?

No problem, I thought as I landed at 7am, I'll be home by 9:30 and I can sleep then.  In my own bed.  Snuggled with Oliver-dog.

That was all dependent on whether or not there would be a plane to take me home.

Which there wasn't.

Of course.

I waited at my gate, read my book, and glanced occasionally at the time.  By the time we were supposed to depart I noticed we still weren't even on the plane.  The lady at the desk told me we were waiting for a plane in Newark.

I assumed we were waiting on the plane to land.

Silly.

We wouldn't find out until, oh, five hours later the darn thing wasn't even scheduled to leave.

By about 10:30am people started to get a little antsy.  A few guys hung out at the counter for answers.  Nice lady was replaced by mean shorty guy.

"We have no idea when the plane will be here."

(mass grumbling)

"You know, we have people waiting here since FRIDAY."

(louder grumblings, you might call it shouting)

"You will be most likely waiting here all day."

(pitch forks out, torches lit)

"Talk to the hand."

Say wha...?! 

Yes, this little guy actually told one angry customer to "talk to the hand."  And when angry man's phone started to ring, short man told him to answer the call and leave him alone.

At this point I called Corey and cried.  I did not want to be stuck in an airport.  I wanted to go home, take a shower, and nap the day away.  The worst of it was these airport people couldn't even give us a rough estimate of when we could expect a plane.

Three hours?  Five hours?  Twenty-four hours??

"We really have no idea."

Fine.  More crying in the bathroom.

But first a potty break.

And of course I find the super sensitive automatic toilet.

Of course.

(spoiler alert: i talk about bathroom stuff here, just so you know)

I place the seat cover on the seat and sit.  I reach over to grab my phone from my purse and...

FLUSH

Dangit.

Place second seat cover on the seat and...

FLUSH

Not funny, toilet.

Place third seat cover on....

FLUSH

Waterworks.  "I just wanna sit down and peeeeee....and I wanna go hooooome."

Place fourth seat cover on the se....

FLUSH

Oh.  Em.  Gee.  This cannot be happening.  What do I do?  Pee in the sink?

Place fifth seat cover on my butt and sit down.

And I pee.

Then I stand up.

Nothing.

I wave my hand in front of the sensor.

Nothing.

I act like I'm putting a seat cover on.

Nothing.

I Push.  The.  Button.

FLUSH

By this time I'm hungry.  I know, great transition.  But that's what happened.

So I ate.  I watched other travelers walk down to their gates where they most likely got on planes and flew away.

They didn't know how lucky they were...sigh.

I talked to my parents who were worried about me.  Rightly so, I was definitely losing my marbles. 

And I considered my options:  1) I could stay at the airport until my plane came, possibly all day and night; 2) I could go to a hotel, sleep, and take the earliest flight out on Tuesday; 3) fly to LaGuardia and then to Albany, and pray my luggage follows.

Fortunately, we were notified at 1:30pm that the plane we were waiting for in Newark had left.

People four gates over must have wondered what all the commotion over at A5 was for.

We were happy.  And within two hours we were in the air. 

Not long after that I was sitting in Corey's car heading home, where I'm pretty sure he talked to me.  By then I'd gone 30 hours without sleep and my mental capacity was limited to functional systems.  You know, like breathing, and keeping my heart beating, and not drooling all over myself.

We got home, I took a shower, ate some deviled eggs and tater tots, and went to bed.  It was the best 11 hours of sleep I've ever had, and by 7am I was fully recovered.

Physically.

Mentally, however, I have resolved to never, ever fly again.

Until my next vacation.

Retreat Wrap-Up

Was my vacation confusing to you?

I just realized I've talked about wandering around my aunt's house, her dog, collecting crabs, and then I'm talking about sewing for hours on end.  I've been in two different places and I don't think I even told you what the heck was going on!

Bad blogger, very bad.

Let's catch up: Corey's Christmas present to me was two-fold, a visit with my aunt, uncle and cousin, and then the quilting retreat my aunt's quilt group planned months ago.  My mom and I flew in Thursday night.  We hung out with the fam and did all that crazy driving that nearly sent me to the toilet to reverse my digestion.

And then, on Sunday we left for the coast and a house on the beach to do some hard core sewing (wrap-up to follow, shortly), which we did, hard corely.  And Thursday morning we packed up all the goodies and went back to my aunt's house to do more hanging.  Until Sunday.

Are we less confused now?

So, let's begin the wrap-up.

I can tell you are just shaking with anticipation.  But for time sake, I'll spare the stitch-by-stitch detail.

Here's the gang.

Boy were they goofy.  And efficient.

And since I signed an oath in blood to leave all the happenings of the quilt group with the quilt group, I can't share the funnier moments and conversations.

But I will say I am fully prepared for life's little changes.

We stayed in a house on the beach.  Which meant we spent time on the beach.  Two whole hours to be exact.  It was the less gloomy, calmer two hours of our stay.

 Isn't she pretty?

 

This was when we collected enough driftwood to build me a little raft on which I can float all the way back to New York.

Through the Panama Canal, of course.  It would just be downright silly to go all the way around South America.

But I digress.



We spent more time than you could possibly imagine working.  A couple of the gals were churning out a project a day, which we then hung on the walls.  By Thursday, we'd run out of wall space.

You can probably pick out my project in this group.

I'll give you a hint: it has a buncha stripes in it.

Yes, the one on the left.  I was happy to just finish something.  I spent the rest of the time rolling as many felt balls as my hands could manage.

(the other two quilts are my aunt's and mom's respectively, perty, aren't they?)

So that's that.  In summary: good time, good company, good eats, terrible weather.  In all, I give it an A.

Breakfast time, hasta manana!

(i know, spanish makes no sense in a post about quilting.  lo siento.)

Greetings from the rain capital of the world

Day Four: on this sewing retreat I have managed to put together half of a quilt and roll 100 felt balls.

My house-mates are on their 3rd and 4th finished quilts.

People, can I tell you: these ladies are work horses.  And my 28 year old body and brain are struggling to keep up.

What?!

My expectations of this week: wake up around 6:30am, have a cup of coffee and some breakfast together, comment on the weather, more small talk, shower, mosey to the sewing machines, sew, talk, sew, talk, break for lunch, sew, talk, sew, break for snack, sew, sew, sew, break for dinner, meander about randomly, go to bed at 9:30pm.

What's really going on:  wake up at 7:30am, sew, sew, sew, break for breakfast, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, snack at machine, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, gnaw on a sandwich at machine, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, break for dinner, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, sew, drag self to bed at 11pm.

This is more of a working vacation, but hey, I've been in yoga pants and no make-up the entire time.  And I've gotten to play with pretty fabric.  And I've learned about what to expect in the heartburn season of my life.  All very important criteria for a vacation.

I'll post pictures soon.  I'll show you what the other ladies are working on: incredible stuff, I tell ya what.  And then I'll show you what I managed to piece together and you'll say, "um, wow, is that all?  Haven't you been there for THREE whole days??"

But whatevs.  It's my hobby and I can do what I want with it.  As slowly as I want.

Later gators.

Losing track of days

Another fun part about being on vacation is that you lose track of days. 

What's that?  It's Saturday?  Feels like Flubbday to me.

You also make up names for days because vacation days are not regular days.  Yesterday was Friday, but it didn't feel the same as normal Fridays so does that mean I can still call it Friday?

Well now I'm opening up a philosophical can of worms I'm just not prepared to...um, fish with.

There's another saying I don't understand.

But I digress.

Wanna see some pictures?!

OK!

This is Sophie, my aunt's dog.  Isn't she precious?

How about now?

Oh look I've gone and embarrassed her.

More on or blossoming relationship later.

Greetings from a totally different time zone

From east to west.  From 12pm to 9am.  It's a huge difference.  Especially when you're body is telling you it's so far past your bedtime it's almost time to start the day but the clock says it's still a decent hour.

It's throwing my blogging way off.  And I'm not good with change.

This is going to be a long 12 days.

But at least they'll be full of fun and adventures in quilting and that should keep my mind off the inconsistencies in my brain.

Bear with me.  We all will need to adjust our schedules, but just until next Tuesday.

Or Wednesday, I'll need a day to nap.

Peace out home skillets.

Happy Quilting

I leave tomorrow at 1pm for Seattle.

I'm sure I mentioned this trip before, like after Christmas when Corey surprised me with my plane tickets.

My aunt, uncle and cousin live in Washington, and I've been itchin' to visit again.  It's only been....oh, almost 15 years since I was there last, and there's this quilting retreat I really wanted to go to...

What's that ya say?

 Um, I haven't been there in 15 years?

No, the other thing.

My aunt and uncle live there?

No, the thing about the quilts.

Oh, yeah, the retreat.

So, I figured if there is such a thing, I would be an old soul.  As such, I enjoy spending time with my fellow oldies to discuss such things as pie crusts, the good ol' days, and menopause all while whipping up a good quilt.  And wouldn't you know it, while I'm there my aunt and a buncha ladies are renting a house on the ocean to do nothing but quilt and jabber on about wrinkle cream!

This is truly my idea of heaven. 

See, I'm getting these little lines around my eyes and...

But I digress.

There's just one problem: I have to fly there.  From here.

For those of you who are new to the Corey & Stacie scene, we live in New York State.  The other side of the country.

Could this be any more opposite??

Maybe if I was coming from Miami...but I have a feeling if I was in Miami I would never, ever, ever leave.  So this would not be a problem.

I have multiple issues with traveling by plane.  One of which is traveling, in general.

Motion sickness.

Boy do I get queasy with any mode of transportation.  Planes and boats being the worst.  For short trips (but not too short) I can manage fine.  But the long trips leave me sick and cramped.

I'll explain:  I've learned over the years that the only way to manage my motion sickness while flying is to prop my head on my hand with my elbow on the arm rest.  Don't ask me why this works, it just does.  And for three hours I can stay in this position without any ill affects.  But after six hours (like the time it takes to fly from, say, Albany to Seattle) I look stupid and can't straighten my neck afterward.  After one such flight my seat mate (stranger) said, "Wow, you slept through the whole flight!"   Me, "(nervous laugh) Yeah."

But I didn't.

My other issue is with the actual act of flying itself.  You know, a big steal tube magically floating around in the air.  I'm sure there's a better explanation of how the thing stays up there, but all I need to know is that it's not on the ground.  The hard, solid, not moving ground.

Corey tells me constantly the statistics on how safe it is to fly.  But as long as planes are still breaking in half and throwing people into the ocean, I'm going to be a stinkin' nutcase.  Before a trip to Hawaii in high school my doctor prescribed me Valium for the flight.  I ended up taking two but was still a bucket of nerves.

And it doesn't help that my mother, each and every time I fly, tells me, "Just make sure you're right with God."  Thanks mom.  At least she's going with me this time and I can give her the mother of all Indian burns when she attempts to "reassure" me.

In all, I'm excited about my trip.  I love visiting with family, I love my aunt's house, I have such good memories of being there, I love old lady conversation, I love occasions that call for nothing but yoga pants, I love crafts.

Just have to get through those first six hours....!

Weekend Wrap Up: NYC Edition

Corey and I got away over the weekend.  We had a mini-holiday as I sometimes like to say.

In a British accent.

As we're a hop, skip, and 2 hour drive plus 45 minute train ride away from New York City we decided to head down for the day on Saturday.  It was our Valentine's Day gift to ourselves.  But then there was an additional Valentine's Day gift for me when we found the Anthropologie store in Rockefeller Center.

More on that in a minute.  There is news to report:

I am afraid of bridges.  This is news to you.

Especially bridges that go on for several minutes and are in the same condition as a bridge north of here that had to immediately be shut down and dismantled.

Oh, and when a certain husband is hurtling across said bridge at the speed of light I tend to wonder in the form of screams whether or not the concrete barriers will hold us crashing into them at a million miles per hour.

But I exaggerate.

We were going the same speed as everyone else.  Which is still too fast everyone else.

Fortunately, the thing held on for two more days and we are obviously still alive.

...

We did our usual park at the train station in Tarrytown, take the train into Grand Central Station, find the Two Boots pizza stand, order and consume three slices of the greasiest pizza this side of the Mississippi, complain of stomach aches, then head out into "the jungle" routine.

Immediately upon entering the jungle we ran into a homeless, one-legged gorilla (and by gorilla I now mean a person, and since I mentioned it I'm going to start referring to the city as the city so as not to confuse us all any more).  There were so many people around I just didn't have time to stop, pull out my wallet, dump out the three dollars I happened to have into his little styrofoam cup and then lecture him about the damage to the environment he was causing by using a styrofoam cup.

I would have been trampled.

But I'm still thinking about him.  Hoping he's doing ok without my three dollars...and my lecture.

...

So we move on down the street.  In the direction I was certain would lead us to Anthropologie.  It didn't.  I was taking us in the exact opposite direction.  But eventually we found our way to 5th Avenue, and more specifically Saks 5th Avenue.

Corey's ears were cold.  And it was on our way.  And every girl should know what the inside of Saks looks like at some point in her life.

I now know.  It is glorious.  And completely hands-off.  By choice.  T-shirts are approximately $400, and I'm just not in the financial position to be forced into buying something I accidentally left greasy fingerprints all over (remember, pizza?).  I did end up with something, though.  And it cost me nothing:

Perfume samples!!

I have so many of the little suckers shoved into my purse right now you'd think your Gammy was here.  First they'd give one to Corey, then to me, then another one for Corey, then one for me.  Obviously, we were together and only needed one sample.  But I have a hard time saying no to things being thrust at me.  Which is why I also have several coupons for nail salons on 75th Street and coupons for a bar called O'Finnegans.

After several discreet consultations with Google maps on my phone (it's not cool to be all touristy) we found Rockefeller Center.

Here's proof.

Then, something magical happened.  And I had a front row seat.

That's a guy and a girl.  They're skating all by themselves.  You know where this is going.

She says, "Henry, what the heck are we doing out here all by ourselves??"

And he goes, "Well Lucille, I thought I'd ask you to marry me....RIGHT NOW."

And all of blog world says, "awwwwww..."

Except for Corey.  Who said, "This is so cheesy."

PS. That's not the actual conversation, in case you couldn't tell by the not-so-frequently used names.

PPS. These are zoomed cell phone pictures as we actually weren't that close.  And yes, I did feel a tad weird taking pictures of someone else's moment, but I knew I have a doodie to report the events as they unfold.

She said yes.  I'm assuming.

Because this doesn't look like a, "See ya later, creep!" smooch to me.

"Oh yeah, I gotta put this thing on your finger..."

Again, in unison: "AWWwwwwwWWWww."

Aaaaaaand then we went to Anthropologie.  Because you can't experience romance vicariously through others forever.

By the time I hit the sale rack I'd completely forgotten about Hank and Lucy, or whoever they were.  I had found a plate.

Yes, most people shop here for their clothes.  I was looking for funky dishware.  And I'm kickin' myself in the pants for not taking pictures.  Eventually you will see my three new plates and you will think to yourself:

What the heck does she need a plate with picture of bugs on it??

I'll explain later.  But that was my V-day gift.  And I love it.  Them.

Not long after we had to get back on the train to make our dinner reservation in Tarrytown.  There isn't much more to report because:

1. Not much more happened.
2. This has already turned into a super long post.
3. I sense several of you have dropped out.

Dinner was delish.  I had a glass of wine and became incredibly hot and giggly.  Corey and I crammed our faces full of desserts we bought earlier at the train station while watching the oh-so-romantic Scared Straight on A&E in our hotel room.  Then we fell asleep with stomach aches.

Awesome day.

Ooops.  That was just Saturday.  Lemme give you Sunday: woke up, drove home, picked up Oliver-dog, did laundry, made felt balls, fell asleep to Matlock.

The.  End.

If There Is a Party In the Woods and No One Takes Pictures, Was It Actually Groovy?

I was gone most of the weekend at a 10th birthday party for a pound puppy with no known date or place of origin. 

My friend Jill just likes to throw theme parties.

So, I drove down to Philly Saturday afternoon and came back early yesterday morning.

Or did I?

...

I, Stacie Jo Lucas, being of sound body and mind, am a chronic picture taker.  I take pictures of funny shaped bird poop, of the spot on my dog's tongue, of my face to see if I have any dried boogies hanging out of my nose when a mirror is nowhere to be found.  Yet I have no pictorial proof of my adventures in Philadelphia.

No pictures of cute little Lucy and what felt like a wet diaper leaking onto my shirt.

No pictures of Maggie and her birthday girl ribbon.

No pictures of my bone-crushing badminton skeelz.

No pictures of the food and water bowl shaped cakes.

No pictures of the doggy bag favors.

No pictures of the Best in Show award ceremony.

No pictures of my very first and last foray into beer-ponging.

And if there are no pictures, does that mean it didn't happen??

....Ooooo, deep.

...

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I went away for the weekend but I don't have any pictures to show you because I was busy and I forgot and I'm sorry and I'll try to take pictures next time and that's all.

The Griswolds Take DC

My dad calls us The Griswolds to strangers. 

It's funny when they miss the reference as did one Renaissance street performer:

"Ahhhh, the Fahmily Griswold!"

So these are my dawgs.  My mom, dad, sister Katie and Corey.  As in Corey & Stacie.  As in my significant other.

Doesn't he look so JCrew with his loafers?  He's in the middle of asking me what I'm doing.  

I'm walking backwards haphazardly.

This was the beginning of a very long, hot day.  We were on our way to Ford's Theater to find out we have to come back at 2pm.

Notice how happy and dry everyone looks?  These are not the same people I saw six hours later.

We made our way to what I declared as my favorite museum, the Museum of Natural History.  Close second: a tie between the art museum with its Norman Rockwell exhibit and the Holocaust museum, which was scary good.

I forgot how much I like dinosaur bones.

This is the third time I posed with Mr. T. Rex.

True story: when I was in preschool we learned about dinosaur bones.  Our teachers buried a bunch of small (real?) bones in the sand box and took us all out to "excavate."  My friends found bones and I found none.  I spent the next few years digging through every sand box I came across looking for bones (and China starting in kindergarten).

I would have spent more time looking at this interesting specimen, but there's just something about a parade...

...and sailors.

The magic may or may not happen here.  But that's a topic banned from this blog. 

I mean politics.  Just so we're clear.  Sickos.

Corey's great-aunt worked here at the FBI building, bustin' chops and wranglin' suspects.

That could be inaccurate.

We finally made our way, sweaty and tired, to Ford's Theater where I took my time perusing the goods in the museum while Corey and Katie whined about being tired/hot/hungry/etc.  Some people just don't appreciate old junk.

I love old junk. 

Like this exact spot where Lincoln was sitting when he was shot.  Goosebumps, people.  I've got goosebumps.

And the house where he died.

Of course I have actual pictures of Lincoln's deathbed and other related memorabilia.  I just didn't want to go "picture overload."

...

What?  You want to see all 300 pictures from our zany family adventure?

No problemo, folks!  Stay tuned...

Road Trip Adventures

When I was 11 my parents packed up me, my sisters, our dog, and the entire house and moved us all from Long Beach, California to Elkhart, Indiana.

Something to do with the crime....

So off we go, through Arizona , New Mexico and Texas, then Louisiana and Mississippi.

"But wait, didn't you say you moved to Indiana?"

Good question.

Hello USA.  Lovely to be living within your borders.  Now, if you can just show my friends here a couple points of interest.

Wonderful, thank you.  My USA, is that a new perfume your are wearing?!

Ahem.

The map above shows our beginning and ending locations.  Notice the general northwardly direction of Elkhart, Indiana.

This is the route most likely taken by the two people who make the journey from Southern California to Northern Indiana every 10 years.  It is the most logical route.

Now, our route:

Needless to say, this trip took us weeks and straight through the Valley of Hell.*  Where the grasshoppers are so big they invite themselves for coffee and pleasant conversation.

After that move, I knew I could handle any road trip thrown my way.

Then Corey got in the car.

And off we went careening down the highway at 90mph, weaving through traffic also traveling 90mph, singing "All the single ladies, all the single ladies...if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it..." at the top of our (read: Corey's) lungs, for the six hour drive to Washington, DC.

All the while listening for directions from the Garmin:

"Continue straight on I-287now take exit 52."

We're lucky more weren't injured as we cut across three lanes of traffic.

"Turn left onto Gunther Road."

I don't think that's the name of the road...

"Is this right??"

"She said to turn here."

"But this is a ONE lane road!"

"Oh look!  Cows!

Side note, cows do not like it when you approach their babies with your camera no matter how friendly your mooing may appear.

"Arriving at destination.  1822 Resort Drive."

It was...memorable.  And as my parents talked about doing this same DC/Virginia vacation again I made a mental note to check flight schedules when I got home.

*To visit my granddaddy in Hattiesburg, MS.  Besides that, what else is there to see??  I mean other than Brett Favre's house, of course.

Virginia Kicked My Butt

As in the State of Virginia.

It was too dang hot to move, but I moved anyway.  All over the golf course.  And I'm paying for it dearly today.

We golfed at 8:30am Tuesday and walked off the course at 1:00pm.  At 1:00pm the temperature was close to 95 degrees with the same humidity as a glass of water.

I didn't realize I had semi-cooked myself until later that afternoon.  Luckily I was still able to make it to my basket weaving class.

More on basket weaving later.  It was sooooo Dirty Dancing.  I half expected to meet a rebellious dance instructor that I would later on have a tawdry love affair with that my father would not approve of.  I doubt Corey would have been thrilled either.

I'm not sunburned.  Not even close actually.  I might have gotten enough of a tan to earn the distinction of second palest person this side of the Mason-Dixon.

I just got too hot.

When Corey and I left the condo for home yesterday morning I was still a slow moving nauseous grouch.

When Corey and I arrived home eight hours later I was a slow moving nauseous grouch with a headache.

And this morning as I pulled myself out of bed I was a slow moving hungry nauseous grouch.

I am assuming this will go away.

I am hoping this will go away....

See ya when I'm back to 98.6.

Vacation Day

We are in the middle of nowhere.

And it's AWESOME!!

We left Washington DC yesterday at 4:30pm after exploring Ford's Theater and the Peterson House where Lincoln died.

But not before I had an ice cream sandwich and a frozen burrito.

My vacations revolve around meals.  My daily activities revolve around meals.

I love to eat.  And eat.  And eat.

We drove on a major highway.  Then a two lane road.  Then a one lane road.  Then a dirt road.

Then we arrived in McGayheyseville, Virginia at the Massanutten Resort.  Upon arriving we've seen two families of deer, one bachelor deer, about a million woodchucks and mountains all around.

Our condo is built into a mountain.  As I sit on the deck, eating my ice cream sandwich, I am staring at a wall of rocks and grass and shrubbery.  What beautiful shrubbery it is, too.

Today, though, I will leave my mountainous sanctuary for the main resort area and spend my hours at the waterpark.  Luckily, my parents' condo has had a number of problems (bugs in bed, dirty sheets, no AC, stove didn't work) and were offered two free passes.  Katie and I are gladly taking those passes off their hands.  Old folks don't do waterparks, us almost old folks do.

So off we go.  I will be back.  Red as a sunburned white lady.

Happy Birthday America!

Happy 4th of July from our nation's capital!

(for those of you casing blogs to find out who is on vacation so you can rob poor suckers blind, just so you know, my neighbors consist of a feisty senior and a mom with questionable friends.)

This is, by far, the coolest place to be today.  And I am in Heaven.

Dear God,

Can Heaven be like Washington DC with its endless museums?

Thanks,

Stacie

I was out early this morning with the crazy idea to jog by the White House.  Not so crazy, though, as there were at least 15 other joggers doing the same with their maps of the area.

I saw three things in abundance that surprised me:

1. Squirrels
2. Homeless people
3. Police!

Dear God,

Can Heaven be like Washington DC but without the crazy homeless people?  Yes, they were happy crazies, but still crazy.  Also, if there are going to be a million squirrels running all over the place (which is what I would prefer because those suckers are so cute), can Heaven have no cars?  I don't think we need to be walking over their flattened corpses.

Thanksomuch,

Stacie

The police were all over the place, I'm assuming, because of the 4th festivities planned for later today.  There will be a parade around noon and fireworks tonight.  However, the paranoid freak in me tried oh-so-hard to convince myself they were taking preventative measures for some kind of attack*.  I hate the paranoid freak in me.

There were also several groups changing the flags for the day.  Do they fly a new flag every day?  I couldn't figure it out, but it was cool (almost used my mom's word of the decade "neat") to see how carefully they folded the old one.  There was a respect you don't see to much anymore.  That was the cynic in me.

I have a lot of people inside who speak for me.

Kinda weird.

Moving on...

Today's plans include a whole heckuva lot of museums.

Corey is super psyched.

First, Ford's Theater then the house across the street where Lincoln died.  I've seen it before, but it's still weird and awesome at the same time to be in the exact spot where a major incident in history occurred.

I'm getting a little nerdy.  I'll try to tone it down.

Then we'll head back to the Museum of Natural History.  Yes, back.  We were there yesterday but didn't see everything.  When I do museums, I DO museums.

Hopefully then we will head back to the art museum (which is right across the street from our hotel) so I can pick out every single detail from every single painting/portrait/sculpture.  I may be doing this by myself.

I'm more than ok with that.

Peace out.

*I probably now have an FBI file.

A Midspring Day's Jaunt

What happens when you put a small town ding-dong in a place like New York City?

You get Stacie, fly down, walking into traffic, talking to strangers, limping in the wrong shoes, tripping over celebrities, comparing the smell of garbage, exhaust and homeless people on every corner to the blooming flowers in Saratoga.

Yes, we had a lovely trek through the city on Sunday.  Thank you for asking.

Corey and I went with his friend Jim to see his super talented daughter perform in an off-off Broadway version of A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Being a Shakespeare-for-Dummies flunky, I spent much of the time mouthing, "what the heck are they saying??" to Corey and listening for laughter cues from the audience.  I do think, though, I understood the main premise of the play:

There was a guy who likes a girl who is betrothed to a guy who likes the same girl, but the girl likes the other guy.  Another girl likes the guy the first girl doesn't like and at some point a fairy guy places a spell thing on them all and a crazy mixed up love triangle happens.

Then another fairy girl gets the same spell treatment and falls in love with a doofus actor.  This has something to do with a baby.  I have no idea where this baby fits in.

The fairy guy then fixes all the spells and the guy that likes the girl that likes the guy like each other again, and the other girl who likes the other guy still likes him, but he now likes her back and they all watch a horrible play at the king and his new wife's house.  I get the impression she isn't a fan of him, but that could just be the acting.  I do understand the backstage ickies that can cause a person to loathe romantic on stage scenes.  And that is hard to mask.

Even though there were no props and no set and no costumes, the guys in front of me were getting a little fresh...with each other, and my experience in the ladies room probably gave me scabies, I very much enjoyed the show and our very brief NYC experience.

But there is just something about home.  And my flamingo pajamas.  And Oliver.  And warm cookies and milk enjoyed wrapped in a fluffy green blanket while watching the History channel.  And knowing I will never have to worry about running into Lucy Liu on the streets of Saratoga with nothing for her to sign but my arm, a brand new umbrella, or leather purse.

Ahhhh, home.  There really is no place like it.

Away from home

I love this vacation.  Love, love, love.

Corey and I come here every year with his parents and aunt and uncle.  There is just something about no-work-do-nothin'-family-time that I just can't get enough of.

Emphasis on 'no work.' 

Did I mention our sight seeing, pool frequenting, marching on DC trip to Virginia this summer with my family?  It's gonna be awesome.

Did I mention Corey and I will have at least five children and there will never be an end to family fun time? (maniacal laughter: HAHAHAHAHA!!)

That means more of Friday night:  first we didn't know what to do for dinner, then we did, then we didn't, then we did, then we saw bad reviews online, then we changed our minds, then we tried to call the order in at a different place, then it took too long for them to answer the phone, then we realized it was Friday night and they were probably super busy, then we hung up, then we changed our minds again and ended up with nachos in front of March Madness.

Corey is super psyched.  About both.

On the ground

We made it.  We have arrived in West Palm Beach, Florida in one piece...or three if you count Corey's busted luggage wheel floating around somewhere over Georgia by now.

I don't like posting pre-flight.  I'm one of those people who constantly thinks, "Were those my final words??"  So I didn't want to get all poetic and insightful on you because, honestly, unless it's a poem about pee splatters on a toilet seat or something else entirely inappropriate, it just isn't me. 

I also knew I would be a rambling mess.  Folks, I get so stinkin' nervous before I fly I practically collapse once I'm off the plane for good from sheer exhaustion.  You can imagine my energy is not being spent making sure I am forming complete and coherent sentences.

But here I am.  Alive.  Coherent.

I'm not going to lie to you; both legs of the trip were awful.  Terrible.  I almost peed my pants and slugged a few people.  Not only am I nervous, I am incredibly irritable.  Corey tried to talk to me during take-off, I yelled at him and curled into a ball.  The kid across the aisle played with his brother, I considered digging my nails into his dad who was sitting next to me.  The lady behind me, I call her "smarty-pants-know-it-all," pointed out every single thing she saw on our descent.  I was plotting her smack down in the terminal.

Then there was this guy:

"Excuse me sir, you put your bag in my overhead compartment."

"Uh,yeah.  There's no room back here."

"Yes, but this is above my seat and now there is no room for my bag.  You need to move your bag."

Thank you Corey for saying what I was thinking:
"Are you kidding me??"

Then there was this girl:

"(to the little old lady in her seat) I have the window seat."

"What deary?"  (I don't think she really said 'deary,' I'm just trying to illustrate that she was a sweet, little old lady, it matters here)

"You are in my seat."

"What?"

"That is my seat.  I have the window seat."

"Oh!  I'm sorry dear, I'll just move over."

"You want me to climb over you?  Unbelievable."

Little old lady gets up, crawls out of the aisle, the nasty hippie walks by rolling her eyes.  I was plotting something extra special for her.

But then we landed.

I wish that was the worst of it.  We had technical difficulties on both planes.  The first, midway through the flight there was a sudden burst of cold air, like the door flew open.  My eardrums felt like they exploded!  It was over in a second, so obviously the door was still very much attached.  The captain came on, "Sorry folks, we had a bit of a pressure problem."

Then, after I sampled some biscuits in the Charlotte airport (we were in the South, and where else can you get a better biscuit than in the South?), we took off for West Palm.  As we prepared to land the pilot made a sharp turn back out to sea, in the opposite direction of the airport.  "We, uh, are having issues with our flaps.  We're going to go through our checklist and land in about 5-10 minutes."

The flaps he referred to were on our side of the plane.  We could see them.  And they definitely were not working.  They never started working after one circle 'round the ocean.  We landed anyway.  Came in hot, used up the entire runway.

But we survived.  And now I am looking for train tickets to take me back home.