Lisbon

Between cruises, we had to take an international flight from Barcelona to Lisbon, Portugal. Flying is pretty much the same as the US except better food, fun stuff for Brianna from the flight attendant, and they speak Portuguese first, English second. We travelled amazingly well. The only down side was having to pay extra for the luggage. We were way over the allotted weight, so we had to find different counters to pay, then go back to check-in to prove we had paid. Since we had gotten to the airport way early, it was no problem. Security didn't make us remove our footwear. I didn't fear a shoe-bomber. My mom was not thrilled to be in Lisbon for the third time, but I really liked the city!

I got to go on a GreyLine tour which took us to the Coach museum (not purses, but real coaches, furnished with upolstery, tassels, statues even). Next I went to the Jeronimo Monastery (not Geronimo, but Jerome) which was beautiful, and huge. Then I went to the Tower of Belem which is a really neat looking stone castle at the side of the river (it used to be in the middle of the river before it silted up) used as a fort to protect from invasion. Next, I went to the monument of the Discoveries which is a giant angular statue work with Christopher Columbus and other famous navigators lined up (showing one discovery leading to another). The back side is a giant sword and the front side (seen best from the river) is like the prow of a ship. Then I went to a Port Wine store (so yummy!!) Then the bus went across the 25th of April Bridge which is so much like the Golden Gate in San Francisco, its even designed by the same engineers. On the opposite hillside facing the city they have a statue of Jesus with outstretched arms like Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janero. Similar to Brazil, they have the black and white mosaic sidewalks with the wave patterns (see Disney's Saludos Amigos for clarification). It is neat to see how two countries an ocean apart have such similar aspects. It is much more similar than Spain is to Mexico. Last, I got a walking tour of the Alfama neighborhood with its tall buildings and curved maze-like streets. In fact, two tourists got lost here! Fortunately our tour guide found them. The Jacaranda trees were in full bloom. Our hotel room had an amazing view of the Roman Aquaduct that runs through the city. Yes, its 2000 years old and still standing, traffic driving right under it! I really loved Lisbon!

Barcelona

Bri, my mom, and I got off the first ship in Barcelona. I was glad to be done with this particular cruise and itinerary, considering the previous days. My cold was easing up, and the best part was that I only had two things I needed to do in Barcelona: find a Starbucks (for Cynde) and go to the Temple de la Sagrada Familia. I know there is so much more to do in this vibrant city. The last time I was here, I had three full days and I took advantage of them. I went everywhere I could and saw the most amazing things and squeezed every opportunity, walked for miles. This time, I only wanted to revisit the one place I felt I had not squeezed. Fortunately, there was a Starbucks near the Temple - two birds with one stone.
Cynde really wanted unique Starbucks gift cards, and how better to help her than one from Europe. I looked up which of the cities had Starbucks, and made my plan. There were only a two places where this was likely to work: Barcelona and Amsterdam, because most European Starbucks were in France (at the time of my research). While inside the Temple, I saw a girl with a Frappuccino, so I knew I was close. A perimeter search finally paid off, and I entered the Sagrada Starbucks. The cashier was so nice, and between my pitiful Spanish and her admirable (yet incomplete) English, I managed to get change for a Euro bill, and communicate my need for a card. Alas, she finally understood what I wanted, but they didn't sell them. Apparently, the need for a card for purchasing coffee has not made it into the Catalan culture. I know Cynde didn't quite believe me when I told her I came up empty. But REALLY, why does someone need a plastic card for a $4 coffee!?!? I felt very american and wished (briefly) that Cynde were over here making an ass of herself. I can just imagine the stories the shopgirl could tell...
Back to the Temple. The Temple de la Sagrada Familia is one of the most famous sites in all of Spain because of the amazing, complex, and bizarre architecture, created and inspired by Antonin Gaudi. How to describe Gaudi style: bright, colorfull, mosaic-tilework, with smooth curves and unexpected reptilian and tropical elemensts. Wiki him if you want more info. So imagine what is supposed to be a rich family's church decorated with snakes, Jesus, lizards, the apostles, frogs, crosses, pineapples, oranges, palm leaves, the virgin Mary (with a pieta), and on and on stained glass windows, extremely tall spires (topped with fruit baskets or crosses), and you have some idea of the Temple. It was fabulous!

Florence & Rome, from May

There is a reason why it has taken me six months to write about my experiences in Rome and Florence this past May. It is the reason my trip blog totally stalled, and I dropped it for a while. Finally, I am determined to move on. And the only way out is through. After the gorgeous stop in Capri, I was most looking forward to revisiting Rome and Florence, where I had had tours two years earlier. The tours were great! They were the best way to see these two rich cities in only a day. I was so looking forward to going again, and this time doing it on my own, not part of a tour. To get to Rome, my mom and I took a train. To Florence, I went by myself on a motor coach. It was surprisingly easy to navigate to the train station and back. The only problem was there was a lot of walking. (This was much less a problem for me than it was for my mother who uses a cane, and is not as mobile as she wishes to be). The first hard decision was to concede that we could not see as much of Rome as we liked. We didn't have time, and it was simply too big a city to do it all. So we limited ourselves to the Colosseum and the old Roman Forum. This was a place that neither my mother or I had been able to see much of in prior trips. I was happy with seeing these places, but unhappy that I had to be limited. Okay, I did really want to see the Colosseum - and I got to see all of it inside and out, with an english speaking tour guide, and it was awesome. The Forum was less interesting to me, and as the time dragged on became even a trial to be borne. It is just a pile of old columns and arches from thousands of years ago spread over several acres. Its hard to find signs or to know what you are seeing unless you are part of a tour. It was hot. It smelled bad (The Cloaca Maximus is there). My mom stopped part way through and was done for the day. We got ripped off by these assholes dressed as Roman Centurions outside who demanded twenty euros for the privilege of photos with them AFTER I asked them, "Quanto costa?" and they replied, "Niente." And the cab fare (because my mom refused the subway) was twenty euro each way, and the tour cost fifty euro for both of us. And lunch in a cafe was ten euro per entree. So this day was ending up at the $200 range in short order! I felt really guilty. Because I wished my mom could walk more so that we could have spent our money better, so that we could have seen so much more. It was so frustrating. And then I had a total panic attack on the train back to Civitavecchia (the port town) because none of the interim town names were the same, and I honestly thought we got on the wrong train and wouldn't make it back to the ship in time (and my daughter was on board!) When that thought went through my head, I swear my heart clutched so hard I thought I might have to thump myself on the chest to get it going again. But we ended up all right, and the only sequella was a nasty chest cold that I caught and later termed the Roman Flu, but I didn't know about it until I had just started walking in the rain in Florence...
So Florence started off real nice too. I had some advil, but no other medicine. I could feel myself come down with a fever and a tightening across my chest as the virus invaded. It was Sunday so there was no Farmacia open. I went to a gallery of gorgeous art collected by the Medici's and literally got dizzy in there and had to escape. I went to a cafe and ordered a half liter of wine and some pizza from this very cute Italian boy, and all of that made me feel much better. Fortified, I revisited all the places that I wanted to and marveled at the statues and art, the tombs and busts of the famous Florentines, the Duomo and the Santa Croce churches, and was the last one back (only two minutes late). Back on the ship, I crashed, rubbed my aching feet, developed a deep cough, and gave my cold to my daughter. At least I had a sea day to recover, and slept on the hardest bed ever in Barcelona. It was a trial, getting around first Barcelona, then Lisbon with all the suitcases and everything, but things started looking up in Lisbon.
It is such a disappointment when the time you thought would be the highlight turns out to be the nadir of the trip. However, having reached the depths, join me as we climb out of dispair and into the really fun part of the trip...

"Lost" and God

I have been thinking about God lately. I've been reading some interesting books, some verses in the bible with my Jehovah's Witness friends, and thinking about what I am learning. I have also been watching "Lost" (the TV show) for the first time because they are replaying it on SciFi channel - four episodes at a time each monday night. And if you are still reading this, you are most likely thinking "What the....?" Well, thinking about God and watching "Lost", I was realizing that at least one aspect of the TV series shows people relating to God (or something close to a deity)... the Island, itself. How is the Island like God? Firstly, it is large, mostly unexplored (unknown), life-giving, life-sustaining, and ultimately benevolent. Secondly, it seems to speak to certain people who are open to the communication, with the intent of helping them on the island, and forecasting what will be. I was thinking about this because I saw the episode where John Locke has lost his voice following the implosion of the hatch, and he signs to Charlie that he wants to speak to the Island. It is the first time any of them acknowledge that the Island might be a sentient entity, a third party that is not the plane crash survivors and not 'the others.' I am thinking about that, because that is where I am spiritually. I am thinking, "you know, there might be something out there, something that I can really talk to, and something that will communicate with me, and will help me...something that is not 'us' and not 'them'...a third party, a benevolent presence." Of course, John Locke is successful in his communication and in his ensuing action. Will I be?
more on this subject to come...

dream

I had this really weird dream that made me cry, and I am having a hard time getting it out of my head. I dreamed that I was in my Grandmother's old house with my daughter. My great-Grandmother was still alive and living in the house. I was showing my daughter this book that had an elephant's trunk attached to a squeeze bulb. It was like a board book with a squeeze bulb elephant head that inflated and extended the trunk. It was my favorite book when I was a kid, and I had given the book to my Great-Grandmother. Now my daughter was playing with it, squeezing the bulb and being as enchanted as I once was. Then my daughter claimed the book with a declarative, "I want it. I want to keep it." My Great-Grandmother said to me, "Go ahead and let her have the book. She can keep it." And this made me cry. I am not sure whether I was crying because my child is so possessive and insensitive to the boundaries of others or whether I was so sad because my Great-Grandmother didn't need the book anymore because she was going to die, and she knew it. It was a little of both.
Now in real life, my great-Gramma Lucile has been dead for twenty years, and I did name my daughter after her. It was my Grandmother who gave away possessions in her last months of life because her terminal lung cancer had been diagnosed. So why was I so conflicted about my daughter wanting to possess a little piece of them?

TinkerHell

Tinker Bell with a twist...

fall is passing by so fast

It should be obvious to most readers that I have given up the vacation blog. Oh, sure I could blather on, and probably will at some point. But right now I just need to spew about what is happening now in my life instead of what did happen six months ago.
B is learning to read. It is so cool watching her sound out words, take guesses at spelling and really enjoy herself when she gets something totally unexpected right. She really loves books, and now she is well into chapter books, and it is all about the Disney Fairies right now. She adores stories of "Vidia" the 'bad' fairy. TinkerBell seems tame by comparison. I worry that she will be as sarcastic and self-centered as Vidia some day, but for now she lives naughty vicariously, which is something she has done for years.
We went Day Camping yesterday at Suwannee River S.P. What is day camping? Well, you have hear of Day Hiking (where you hike during the day but sleep in your own home or hotel at night). Day Camping is everything you would do during camping, except you sleep in your own home or hotel at night. We cooked Mac 'n' cheese over the coleman propane stove, and had marshmallow, chocolate and candy corn smores (don't knock it til ya try it). Then we went hiking...Day Hiking. Put in about 2 miles total. Awesome day.
It has been all over the map weather-wise this autumn. Just a few days ago, I had to turn on the a/c again. It was soooo muggy in the house and I just couldn't take the heat. Now it is cold enough for the heat again. We rode the bike to school and it was 38 outside. I had to fight to get a jacket and mittens on my daughter, even so, and we were late. Many other parents were late too. Perhaps every kid was struggling with extra layers!
This fall just seems to be flying by. The march of the school calendar means that the weeks are no longer lazy. Now I have to bring in to school a meat dish two days before Thanksgiving. Am I actually going to roast two turkeys two days apart? I wouldn't mind doing it except for the sleep loss. In order to have a fully roasted turkey by 11 am, I would need to get the thing in the oven by what? six a.m.? Not sure I want to do that, but it would be easy, and a nice dry run for the big event.
I am quitting MOMS club in Gainesville. This is my last month. B. never enjoyed the activities, and I go to fewer and fewer each year. I also haven't been into reading as I have in the past, so book club is more of a chore than ever before.
Even minis are winding down. Which is good timing since my house really needed cleaning and I am able to get to it now.
And of course there is college football. Where would my hub and I be without that?!? We have been enjoying the games, especially since the Gators are doing so great. Of course we need a playoff system. But I actually enjoy the nasty catfighting over who is the current best college team. I also like seeing how the young men handle success and failure. Penn State totally shot themselves in the foot. Does anyone seriously believe Utah can run with the big dogs? And can Texas Tech go all the way? I'm Staying tuned!

more animals

and another

Capri pix

Capri

After a leisurely afternoon following the Sicilian tour, I was ready for something more adventurous and interesting and I got it in spades in Capri. First, we had to make sure Brianna was well-cared-for on the ship. Unfortunately, not all Holland America ships have their shit together (okay, I shouldn't use trite phrases when real English will do). . . Not all Holland America ships have well-organized port-day activities for the children that coordinate with actual off-shore excursion times. The Zuiderdam in particular had an all-new crew and had only been sailing the prior two weeks, with very few children. So this week, there were more kids for them to look after, but they seem to have this idea that parents should only take shore excursions that correspond to their posted work times (and it differs for each ship, so how would one know which tours to book ahead of time?!?). So I had to make special arrangements to drop off Brianna early to be able to go on my six hour tour. It did at least work out okay as I paid the caregiver an extra tip, and Brianna was just as happy not to go, although I think she might have liked this tour. We started out (Mom and me) on a jet powered catamaran, and from the port of Naples, got to the island of Capri in about 45 minutes. A note on Capri: since it is an Italian island, it is pronounced KA-pree instead of the more often heard French version ka-PREE, and it means "goat". It is very rocky, with its tallest peak lost in the clouds, very vertical, such that you start climbing uphill rather immediately, and gorgeous. Yes, this is one beautiful island, and only the Richest of the rich Italians actually live here. There are lovely hotels with manicured gardens. There are trendy stores and smaller, touristy shops. The road to Anacapri (the city with highest elevation) is absolutely hair-raising! I admit I was holding onto the seat of the bus with sweaty palms, looking straight down 800 feet to the incredible turquoise waters below, and praying to Jesus (which I really do not do unless vertical feet are involved) to keep the bus on the road and the outcropping of rock upon which the road is laid stable. After one thrilling ride, I was up for another. There is a chairlift in Anacapri which takes you up to the peak at the top, and was totally worth the scare and the chill to take. It did really get chilly at the top, but the views were breathtaking. My favorite view was when passing right over the top of a small private garden, obviously decorated by someone with whimsy. It had birds of paradise flowers next to urns decorated by seashells in a mosaic pattern. There was a manequin wearing clothes, purse, belt and necklaces next to a birdbath. There were little seats for resting. And the garden was built on several terraced levels. It was so perfect, I literally shed tears. This is a happy place.
Up at the top of the chairlift were a few gatti (cats) and clouds. In fact, the clouds were below us. I am sure there is a very scenic view off the back side of Capri, but I couldn't see it. It was really spooky to be high up on a cliff, looking down, hearing the gulls' cries echoing off the sheer cliffs, but not have a visual to go with it. I didn't linger, because, being afraid of heights, it was seriously freaking me out. But I did enjoy seeing some of the Roman architecture remaining. The Emporer Tiberius (yes, that one) ruled from Capri, and I could see why he preferred it to Rome. I only stayed a little at the top, and then I was back down to meet for lunch. We watched the local lizards as we waited and marveled at how familiar their actions seemed, not unlike our own lizards back in Florida. Lunch was at La Pigna (the pine) and was divinity Italian style. I love Italian food, and the way they do it. First course is pasta, second is meat. So you don't have to choose; you can have both. Yummy. Followed by tiramisu and real espresso. Exceptional. this is the experience that I wanted to have again, and would want to repeat any time I returned to Italy.
The next point of interest was a gardens with scenic views of the cliffs. This too was just so much beauty that the eyes were full to the brim. Its like everywhere I looked was one paintable scene after another. Now this is what vacation is about. Looking around and enjoying it all.

Sicily

After a single day at sea, I was ready to start going on some solo expeditions. I knew Brianna was in good hands, staying with her Gramma on the ship. The Zuiderdam docked in Catania on the island of Sicily. I had been to Messina before, and taken an excursion to see a Roman era ruins and a beautiful church on a hill at Tindari. Similarly, I took another half-day trip, this time to the south, toward Siracusa, to see Greco-Roman ruins at the Archeological Park of Syracuse. The tour guides in Sicily are very, very passionate about their history and culture. They are proud to be Sicilian. Our current tour guide argued that there would be no Italy, no Italian culture, without the Sicilian culture as a base for it. The prior tour guide mentioned the organized-crime aspect of Sicily is alive and well, but you really don't see it unless you want to go looking for it. I would not want to live there, but it is a beautiful island. It is quite big, with lots of traffic, and lots of farms and agriculture. The straits of Messina is the location of Homer's famous Scylla (sea monster) and Charybdis (whirlpool), and our tour guide gleefully read us the description from the Odyssey. The island is also the supposed home of the goats and sheep that were not to be killed, alas which, because the crew killed and ate them, they all died leaving Odysseus alone. So it was with great hopes and expectation that I went to the Archeological Park, but like Sicily itself, I kept looking for more than it has to give. The park was interesting, there was a huge Greek theater which was restored and still in use today (not bad for a 2000 year old place!). There was a Roman Amphitheater, mostly in ruins, but you could get a feel for the size of the thing. There was an enormous pit that used to be a limestone quarry, with a few still-standing columns of stone to show where the roof would have been, and how big the cavern was. There was the "Ear of Dionysus" (named by Carravagio, the painter), a large curving slave-carved cave where echoes amplify like that of an ear canal. That was pretty cool, to go into the back of that cave and hear what was being said at the entrance. Of course, enjoying the cave with a hundred other people in at least three different tour groups and speaking in five different languages did maybe dampen the effect a little. I guess my problem with Sicily is that I would like to explore it myself, not with thirty other fat, old people on an air-conditioned bus. I would like to linger and not be a slave to the return time. I want the sole attention of a guide, so that I can interact, ask questions, and share information, not get lectured to. This is not Sicily's fault. Still, Sicily epitomizes the worst of american tourism, that is: getting just a little information, a small scope sighting, and being left to have an invalid opinion of it all.

Sea Day B Day

The next day on our cruise was the 14th, my daughter's birthday. I had packed surprises that waited until this day to be opened. She was delighted when the song was sung to her both at lunch and dinner. And she was presented with a special cake, got to stay up late and see a show. She decided not to go to the kids place for the evening, but spend her special day with my mom and me. It was a lovely day and it was calm seas. The next several days were going to be busy, with myself and mom on tours while she stayed at the Club HAL, being looked after by capable if unenthusiastic staff. We swam at the pool, and Brianna even got to swim to fetch golf wiffle balls for one of the on-ship activities. Fellow passengers tried to chip a ball into a hula hoop floating in the pool, and they mostly missed, giving Brianna and a brother/sister pair ample opportunity to retrieve the balls for the staff. Brianna's swimming was greatly improving! Just the day before she learned how to float, first with me holding her, then gradually by herself. Not everything ran smoothly, though. The ships photographers were a young and untrained group, with only one who knew what to do for portraits, so her five year portraits were not worth buying until we found the one lady, days later. My biggest frustration was with the dining room stewards and their poor performance. On every other cruise I had been on, dining stewards had gathered to sing Happy Birthday to a passenger with gusto and as many bodies as could be mustered for the occasion. But not Ketut. Oh no, he either was on the least-liked list in the dining hall, or he just didn't give a shit, because he only mustered himself. Brianna blew out the candle before we could sing or take any pictures, and I was seriously pieved. But Brianna didn't seem to notice or care. Mostly she just wanted to play ... with her new toys and her mom, and that is what she did.

Santorini

Why do I have that stupid song from Sublime in my head when I think of Santorini? They don't even say it, they say Santeria. But it sounds close enough to make my brain short-circuit and get stuck in the loop. Santorini is a beautiful island in Greece, likely the most famous one. It has the little white "sugar-cube" houses on the cliff-top and the blue-domed churches. It boasts an amazing sunset and a romantic atmosphere which is probably why I was feeling grumpy on my tour. Not only did I have the annoying song stuck in my head, but I was dragging around a cranky almost-five year old on her fourth-day-in-a-row tour, and believe me, the scenery and romance were not doing it for her. I was missing my husband, or more specifically, feeling remorseful because I do not have the kind of husband who would either come here or appreciate it. And I was hard pressed to even remember his good qualities and my daughter's at the moment. The rest of Santorini, outside of the white and ecru houses is so dry it is almost a desert. They grow grapes, but the vines are short because the wind is fierce and the sun scorching, so they grow like little bushes in the volcanic ash topsoil. There are wildflowers on the mountain top that cling to life, and the two cities we visited, Oia and Fira which are devoted to the tourist trade, cling to life on their cliff-side hoping fortune will smile. We did find beautiful souveniers, yummy ice-cream and smooth cobblestone streets. Brianna and I got to ride a cable car down the cliff-side to the tender-dock. We saw the beautiful church domes and bell pyramids. But I wouldn't recommend coming back...without a lover!

Odysseus' Ithaca

Our next port visited was a different Greek Island in the Ionian sea named Cephalonia or Kefalonia. I mentioned having read Homer's The Odyssey just before embarking on this trip, yet I had no idea that we would be anywhere near the place described. I enjoyed The Odyssey, and I was impressed by Odysseus' descriptions of his beloved Ithaca homeland. He noted its rocky scrub lands, not very suited to cultivation, its many goats and sheep, and its beauty. I took a tour, and imagine my surprise when told by the guide that Ithaca was the next island over across a short bay from Kefalonia. In the meantime I was enjoying the beauty of the island I was on. We went to the Dragorati Cave. As caverns go, it was fairly big, but not as large as Carlsbad or Mammoth. However, it had good acoustics, which was demonstrated by an enthusiastic opera-singing visitor. My mother didn't dare descend the hundred steps to go in the cave, but it was a relatively easy entrance and exit for me. The photos didn't turn out well, but I enjoy a cave anytime, whether it is at home or abroad. The second site on our tour was the Melissani Lake. This too was a cave, but in this case, the chamber was filled with water. Also, the roof was open to the air. It was closed, but the roof fell in following an earthquake, leaving the lake to be discovered, and a tourist attraction built. The lake was accessed by a sloping corridor that had been bored into the limestone. Once at the water, a large rowboat could be boarded with a Greek oarsman to steer you to the middle of the water and to the section of the cave that still had a roof and a very high ceiling. My mother was up to the sloping corridor, but not the boarding of the rowboat, so just Brianna and I rode out. It was a beautiful site with the very clear cerulean water below (very deep) and the arching ceiling above. The section of cave that still had its roof showed what the other section would have looked like, but I cannot imagine any one wanting to enter that expanse without the sunlight shining in! The water was a mix of salt and fresh, and was a cold ultrafiltrate of the island's rain water mixed with the ocean's input thirty kilometers away. No fish or sea-life lived in there because they had no way in, so the water stayed very clear. Neither of these caves were mentioned by Homer, but then we went on a scenic drive around the island, where we saw the rocky land with very few farms and tons of semi-wild goats. The goats were on and off the road, and we stopped by this overlook which not only allowed us to photograph the goats, but also the poppies and the amazing color of the coastal water. We saw this fantastic beach which was accessed only by a five kilometer long steep, winding, hairpin-filled, one-lane dirt road. The sandy beach was long, and very private, and the beautiful water... Lets just say that I never knew the true meaning of Azure before seeing this beach. It was the truest blue color of water, better than the caribbean, better than anything I had ever seen. This had to be one of my favorite spots on the planet. I would return any time! No wonder Odysseus was proud. On the way back, I just kept watching the coastline and the amazing water and beaches the whole way. Our tour guide then explained that no evidence of Odysseus' magnificent palace was discovered on Ithaca, the neighboring island. Rather, in the south of Kefalonia, the ruins of what must have been a large estate have been discovered. And it is proposed that Ithaca was once both of these islands, merged together. Only more recently have they been separated by the frequent earthquakes of this area, with the Ithaca title going to the smaller chunk of land to the east. I was so excited to hear that I had been exploring the very island of Odysseus' home.

Corfu

I have been putting off writing about Corfu for a while now. I want the travel blog to go in order of what I have seen, but I didn't want to write about this day until I had gathered my thoughts more and put into (better) words what I didn't like about this place. Corfu is one of the islands in the Ionian sea off the mainland of Greece. It has a lot of culture and history, and I had only just begun to delve into Greek history myself before the trip (mostly by finally reading the Odyssey). Could they have described the roastings of lambs' legs any more frequently in that book?!? But I digress...We arrived in Corfu Town and had to rush to get ready for our morning tour. We had Palaces of Corfu on our agenda which sounded spectacular, but the morning was met with gray, gloomy, windy, misty weather and our first view of Corfu Town was of this long strip of road that looked like anywhere else: car dealerships, commercial bakeries, tire stores, travel agencies. Oh sure, the writing was different (it was all Greek to me, HAR!), but it was very modern, over crowded, dirty, and distinctly lacking in culture or foreign-ness. The weather cleared slightly and we found ourselves one of at least seven busloads of people all going to see the Achilleion Palace. As Palaces go, well, I was underwhelmed. I shouldn't have been expecting Versailles, and it didn't even come close. Basically it was a large house with tall ceilings, the upstairs was closed off, the lower rooms were taller than they were wide, and were set up like a museum so that you saw pieces of art displayed. There were some nice architectural elements and some nice sculpture based on traditional Greek themes, but that was it. It was built by the Empress Elisabeth of Bavaria (wikipedia her for more info), wife of Franz Joseph, the 'Emperor of Sorrows', as her home away from hubby. Elisabeth liked to travel, and she liked to be thin and pretty, and she liked her Greek-themed art), and that was it. The garden was pretty, the overlook terrace view would have been stunning on a clear day. The statues and art were good. The Palace was also owned by the German Kaiser Wilhelm II, a relative of Elisabeth.
What was more interesting than the palace, was the apparent love and respect of Elisabeth by the people of Corfu and the tour guide in particular. They adored her! She knew Greek and Greek myths "better than any of the bavarian greek queens" (but really, how many of them were there?!?) After the Palace, we went past a staircase (the Kaiser's Bridge) that went from the palace above to an elaborate stone dock on the coast. It was somewhat in ruins from the world war bombings, but gave a better feel for how wealthy and elaborate the palace was. We continued to a second palace-turned-into-museum, even less memorable than the first. And I was right there with my daughter, saying"When is this tour going to be over?" Which is unfair. After all, the weather was looking better, the lizards were out, and I even caught one. It was absolutely lovely, with teal beads by his head and a bright orange underside. We saw some ancient roman ruins (but had no time to explore them), and drove by two castles on the way back to the ship. We also saw Mouse Island and the tiny monastery nearby. It was near the airport and we got to see a plane land very close up. But, I really wanted to explore the ancient castles, the old one being from the 1200s and the new one from the 1400s. Plus there was a pretty park connecting the two and a monument to world war soldiers nearby. However, it would have been a long walk back to the ship. By the time I considered more touring, there wasn't quite enough time or money to go to the castles. So I was left with the feeling of having picked the wrong tour, and seeing the wrong part of the city. It was very frustrating, but I was still trying to find my explorer's groove. That zone where you feel comfortable taking on the challenge of going off on your own and seeing what you want to see, and of seeing a city so thoroughly that you could be the tour guide for someone else. Barcelona was that city for me, but I need another crack at Corfu.

Croatia

Early in the morning, I could see the coastline of Croatia. We had crossed the Adriatic Sea and were landing in Dubrovnik. I remember a friend from college who was proud of her Croatian roots, but I was not sure why. I had never heard much about it until the war with the Serbs in the early nineties. I knew the Croatians used a cyrillic alphabet, but it was not the same as Russian. The coastline was very rugged, rocky, and hilly. It looked as though life would be difficult there. Still, it had a beauty, and nearing port, I saw a lonely building on a rocky outcropping with a cross on top. It was a monastery, and it looked as rough and difficult a life as I could ever imagine. Upon entering port, however, the whole scene changed. It had a very riviera-like feel, a world-class scuba diving port, beautiful new buildings, modern roads, and an extremely tall, long bridge near which the ship anchored. We couldn't see the old walled city-fort from our pier, but I got a good view of it from the road to Cavtat (pronounced sahv Taht). One noticeable discrepancy was that all of the roofs were new. This city had been bombed and in great disrepair just fifteen years before, but you could not tell there had been a war, except for those new clay tile roofs. On my tour, the riviera-feel continued at the villiage of Cavtat, and indeed, it was a place where the upper class europeans summer. Croatia had its own currency, but frequently accepted euros. I was hoarding my euros, so I went to the banks, but found them closed. Finally I went back to the equivalent of a western union office to exchange my dollars and found the same old lady arguing with the clerk for the fifteen minutes it took me to find the closed banks. I made a few small purchases and looked at beautiful crocheted tablecloths. I found the local churches and the bell tower. There were huge pine trees that shaded the crushed shell walkway and rained small cones everywhere. I also discovered the clearest seawater in any harbor I had ever seen. It was so clear you could see the fish and the sea urchins on the rocks underneath the tied dingies. Still, I was glad to be on my way as it was quite hot and sunny, and I was wearing long sleeves and no sunblock. We then went to watch a folk dance performance. Originally, I meant for Brianna to see it, but my mom took her only to the walled city. The dancing was fantastic - really well done and absolutely worth the time and expense. It started with 14 and 15 year olds, with progressively older age groups coming out to dance,most of them no older than 25. The guitar and mandolin players were older men. There were elements of square dancing, the quick-footedness of Irish dancing and beautiful period costumes. Afterwards, I walked through the walled city over stones smoothed by hundreds of years of thousands of feet. The ramparts could be hiked, but it meant an expense of an additional 15 euros for the priviledge and the shuttle back, so I declined. The main drag of old town Dubrovnik was like a shopping mall set in a 400 year old fort, with the addition of a bunch of sidewalk cafes and a thousand gawking tourists, so I just kept walking through to meet the bus and go back to the ship. I would love to visit again, show Brianna the dancers, and walk the ramparts.

Venezia

The second real day of my trip began with an early breakfast call and a walking tour of Venice. When I was eating, I was on the upper deck of the ship (the lido deck) and looking out over the cityscape shrouded in fog with the sun rising like a shrouded lamp above. The lido waiter assured me that it would burn off, and it did just in time for the tour. The group took a water taxi to the Piazzale Roma from the day before and started our walk across the many little bridges and narrow alleys, heading toward the Rialta bridge, one of the few that cross the Grand Canal. One of the stops where the tour guide explained things was in front of a school that had been open for four hundred years. Sadly our tour did not include a look at the inside, but we were welcome to return and enter...if we could find our way back. There were enough twists and turns on that walking tour to make that a tenuous possibility. Plus the ship was leaving that day, and I sure didn't want to miss it. We continued and learned about Carnivale and the interesting masks and ended in St. Mark's Square which is a sight not to be missed. It was very crowded with tourists just like our group. Here is one of the places where a few breadcrumbs will get you covered in pigeons if you wanted. I was almost sorry I hadn't taken Brianna just to do that. It is funny how having a child allows you to see the world through the eyes of a child. I always think of what she would like or want to do, even when I am alone. I think of what my husband would like about Venice...absolutely nothing. He would hate the crowds, the birds, the noise, the water, and any romanticism associated with it. It was a good thing he wasn't there. Again we were welcomed to go into St. Mark's or up in the tower (both long lines), but would have to find the right water taxi to get back to the ship and spend the extra 7 euros, so I chose not to stay. At least after the tour, I felt like I knew Venice a little better, and it was clear our tour guide loved the city herself. I got back to the ship and I felt the pull towards something new and different. It was fun seeing the city and especially Lido again from our balcony on the Zuiderdam as we set forth in the afternoon. Then it was into the Adriatic for the ship, and into the dining room for our party of three. Dinner on the cruise ship is one thing I really love. I even like to dress up for the event, mostly because Brianna enjoys getting into pretty dresses, having her hair brushed smooth. I enjoy the good food and all the work that must have gone into its making and presentation. And all the choices. Do I feel more like lamb or veal tonight? Questions I never get to ask myself at home. It is a mother's idea of being pampered, and no cleanup!

Navigating Venice with Luggage

The trouble with staying on Lido is that we had to go into the city of Venice to board the cruise ship. Lido would have been a great place to stay if we were just visiting the city. However, all three of us and all seven suitcases had to get dragged back down the five blocks from the hotel to the vaporetto (boat bus) station, had to have biglietti (tickets) bought for, and had to be loaded onto the boat back to the main city. Our boat bus also served as school bus for thirty Italian children aged 8-12 and at least that many working folks for several stops. Unfortunately, we didn't find out until later that we took the less-than-optimal route for us carrying all those suitcases. So for those who want to know: take a vaporetto from Lido to St. Mark's Square and from there you will find the only vaporetto that goes to the cruise ship dock. The Italian word for cruise ship is crocciere, pronounced krocheeaireh. We ended up at the Piazzalo Roma where we asked a nice police officer for directions to the ship. Only a few minutes walk he said, but my mom knew better than to believe him, found a taxi and happily paid the 13 euro to drive us the half mile to the ship. Once there, we could finally be rid of the bags! Check-in was slow, but well run, with groups called to go into line. Inevitably there would be a pre-line formed before the actual line, but there is that tendency in people to get ahead. We found ourselves inexplicably among the first in our group to actually go through security, but the silliest part was how my mom kept inching forward so these hanger-on people wouldn't cut ahead of her. Its not like there weren't almost seventeen hundred people trying to get on the ship, but by golly we were going ahead of stupid-beard-man!
We had the afternoon free to do things including cruisy stuff like register Brianna for Club HAL or tour the spa and enter our names for the free massage, or unpack, or we could have gone back into the city to explore more. I had a walking tour planned for the next morning, but usually I am one to go off on my own (particularly because mom was offering to watch B) in addition to tours and just take in the sights. However, I had had my fill of Venice for that day at least. Maybe it was the snotty Italian hag who looked at our assembled luggage on the vaporetto with an undisguised sneer, or the jet lag waiting in line and unpacking chores, but I just didn't see what there was to get so excited about in this city.
Venice is made up of over 120 little islands, with lots of picturesque little bridges over the waterways that run between. The buildings are very old (just like the rest of Europe), with lots of marble used in decorating. The roofs are terra-cotta and the spires of dozens of churches rise up from the horizon. People say how romantic it is and beautiful, like a fading diva, but it just didn't interest me. And the price for a gondola ride? One hundred and twenty euros! That is not very romantic unless you are rich and stupid. Do I care that gondoliering is fading? Not at those prices. I read a book recently about a couple arguing over whether to have the romantic gondola ride. The husband didn't want to, saying it was too touristy, too overdone, that the couple on the boat is too much on display. The wife of course wanted to go, because its what you do in Venice. I guess that is what I didn't like about the city: the 'going through the motions because you were supposed to' feel of the whole place. It was my mother who was excited for me to see Venice. It wasn't until later that she confessed she felt the same way I did about the city. We both liked Lido so much more.

Lido

Our first day (and night and day again) was spent flying to Venice from Tampa. It was a red-eye flight, so we tried to get some sleep. Brianna slept fine, and even had to be roused in the bright sunshine of a Venetian morning. Our luggage actually made it, but we brought far too much. How could we help it really? We had to pack for daywear and evening wear, for sunny and warm and for cool and rainy. We had to bring enough fun things to entertain my daughter without having too much that wouldn't be used. All in all, between three people there were seven suitcases (four of them large) and it all weighed over 250 pounds. At least Brianna could pull her little valise herself, and that is what she did. First order of business was to find out how to get to our hotel. Once we got there, we could crash. I really didn't sleep on the plane, just watched 27 dresses and the golden compass without sound, finally giving up and studying the Italian section of my European Phrase Book.

When flying into Venice, one lands on the mainland of Italy, but the city is accessable many ways: by bridge (and therefore bus or taxi) and by water (by private boat or vaporetto). The public transportation kiosk was right in the airport, so we waited in line to buy the right ticket to get us to the separate island of Lido. Our bulk of suitcases hindered other commuters and I was treated to my first Italian word: Permisso pronounced like pairmeSSSSSoh. They really manage to get a hiss in those S's. It would not be the last time I heard that word. The Italians use it regularly to navigate crowded streets and get through groups of gawking tourists. Getting all those suitcases and ourselves onto a boat bus was not easy, and aided greatly by the friendly vaporetto drivers. We landed on the island of Lido, re-hooked our suitcases into their long chains and started walking/pulling on the main drag. We were not the only tourists, fortunately, but we were the only ones dragging seven suitcases. Lido was a beach resort and the word lido means shore, sand bar, or beach, or a place to do some swimming. It was a cute town, and we received good directions to the hotel and found it after several rest stops. The flowers were in bloom. We passed by several souvenier shops and cafes and the weather was divine: cool, breezy, perfect humidity. Our hotel desk clerk spoke english and gave us a room close by. My mom in her fatigue tripped up the stairs, and the clerk practically panicked, but helped her the rest of the way, having the maid bring the luggage. Then my mom and I fell into heavy sleep. Brianna actually didn't nap, but played and waited until I was conscious again. Brianna and I found a cafe for late lunch. Brianna had pasta (of course!) and I had a prosciutto and cheese sandwich that was so good that I didn't care if we had to order it off a picture menu from Chinese vendors. We liked it so much that we ate there for dinner.
Afterwards, I wanted to see more of the town so I headed further down the main street. I found huge blooming wisterias in light purple and fragrant white. I found a large statue of fat people hugging. And I found the beach. The lido of Lido. I looked across the vast expanse of water and marveled that it was the Adriatic Sea. I never thought I would be here, and I was so happy I was.

Travelling Woman

So I am back from a long trip in Europe, and can I just thank God, the universe, and my mom for making it happen? Thank you thank you thankyou! It was so great! I will be writing about it for the next month. So I hope you like reading travel stories.
Not to brag, but the itinerary was thus:
Fly to Venice, Italy, stay a night in a hotel on Lido (a long narrow island near Venice and serviced by vaporetto which is like a water taxi), then board the Zuiderdam (pronounced Ziiiederrrrdam) for a 12 day cruise: First night and most of the next day remaining in Venice, next day Dubrovnik, Croatia, then Corfu, Cephalonia and Santorini, Greece. Next, a day at sea, then on to Sicily, Naples, Civitavecchia, and Livorno in Italy, then a day at sea and the night docked in Barcelona, disembarking and then a night at the Hotel Sants in Barcelona, fly to Lisbon, Portugal the next day and two nights in the Novotel before embarking on the Prinsendam for an 11-day cruise: first day at sea then Gijon and Bilbao, Spain, La Rochelle, Bordeaux and (Brest was scheduled, but we didn't stay at either La Rochelle or Brest) St. Malo, France, then Guernsey in the Channel Islands, and Dover, England, then Zeebrugge, Belgium and disembarking in Amsterdam, Netherlands and staying two nights at the Park Plaza Victoria hotel before flying back. It took one full month, leaving on the 6th of May and returning the 6th of June.
Well, I got back and jumped back into my house and routine, taking my daughter to the pediatrician for her checkup (she had turned five on the trip), having family over on Sunday, cleaning the cat hair up on Saturday and washing clothes and putting them all away.
I got asked whether the trip was too long or too short, and I honestly have to say, it was just exactly right for me. I wasn't homesick until the very end, and even then was distracted by the beauty, charm, and interesting sites of Holland. I would have had a wonderful time even if the trip was only one half (either first half or second) as long, but I felt like I really got to see a lot, and was able to compare my experiences much better, with the cruises being back-to-back. It was great travelling with my mother and my daughter. Neither maybe enjoyed it as much as I did, but both did well, and neither held me back. In fact, I think it was a better trip with both of them, because I probably never would have done it without my mom's guidance and I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much without my daughter's interesting perspective (that and her ability to charm the socks off the cruise staff and getting us special treatment). It was great, and soon I will add my insights and details in future posts.
One other cool thing, we saw Mr. Bean's Holiday as a free movie for the summer. Soooo funny. Love Mr. Bean! And his holiday (vacation) ended up being in the south of France, so I really connected with it. Also, my favorite lines:
"Un cafe?" says the pretty waitress
"Oui" replies Mr. Bean
"Sucre?" asks the pretty waitress
"Non" replies Mr. Bean
"Your French is very good" comments the pretty waitress with a heavy French accent
Mr Bean replies, "Gracias"

Hit the ground running

Well, I haven't posted since before our spring break trip, but I will try to make up for it now. Full of hope, I packed everything I could think of for camping in April, including cold weather sleeping bags, long underwear, mac and cheese, and then we didn't end up camping. Oh well, maybe next time. The weather was great for the visiting days and less good for the travel days, which worked out nicely for us. Our first stop was in Atlanta (Sandy Springs and Decatur) to see relatives. We met our new cousin/niece Cecily and she is beautiful. She is also giving her mother more work than her older brother did, so my poor sister in law is trying to get used to having to take care of two kids: one a two and a half year old angel-toddler and the other one a persnicketty baby. It was fun holding a four week old again, and I again thought that it was a shame Jason really didn't want another child, or I would have a bad case of baby lust. After breakfast on Sunday, I mentioned that Brianna and I would go hiking at Kennesaw and my PhD- in- Religious- Studies-ordained-minister- step-brother pricked up his ears and offered to skip church to come with. I am such a bad influence! To my credit, I did offer to wait while he went to church (drawing the line at going to church, myself). However, Darryl had a prior engagement later, so off to Kennesaw we went with angel-toddler and back packs. Brianna impressed me by hiking the whole way up (a mile) to the top. Normally a stop-and-pick-the-flowers-hiker, she suddendly became very goal-directed and charged up the hill. On the way down, Brianna and Zeke scrambled on abundant boulders, and had a jolly time. At the end of the hike, Brianna was very negative, saying that she would never do that again, that it had been too hard, and not fun. This negativity is so much like Jason's, but I countered it with remembrances of particular fun things and the assurance that I was proud of her. It is interesting how mood can so color an experience. When we talked of the happy parts, it became a fun thing to do again. The next day we spent 12 long hours in the car and Brianna was so good. Finally we got to see Jo, Tim and Abby for the first time in almost a year. We went to Coopers Rock to hike and had gorgeous weather. We spent a day with Jo's parents and explored their beautiful yard, picking daffodils and violas. We walked downtown another day and saw cute stores and beautiful old homes. We played in their back yard, collected rocks, and even got to go to Voyagers which had recently re-opened for some yummy falafels, hummus and gyros. It was great seeing how smart Abby is, to watch her enjoy playing and being interested in everything everyone else was doing. Too soon, we had to turn around and come back. We stopped at the New River Gorge on the way back for a nice hike. Also, we found a place in Virginia called Wolf Creek that had an indian re-enactment village. However, no actors that day, so we just explored the huts and the creek. Brianna took nice nap in the car allowing me to get as far as Hickory, North Carolina for the night. I had planned to see my favorite part of the Blue Ridge Parkway the next day, but it was closed due to a massive landslide, so we found Linnville Caverns instead. Brianna had never been in a cave and was excited to go. She was silent during the short tour, but seemed to enjoy seeing the rare cave spider and the hibernating bats. We also got to touch the walls (which I had never been allowed to do in any other cave) and see this really deep, sterile water chamber (spooky). As we were exiting, Brianna admitted that this experience was too scary for her and she didn't want to do it again. So again with the reassurances about how proud I was and how interesting to see bats, spiders and total darkness. Afterwards, I bought an indian headdress and drum set which appeased her mightily. One more night in Atlanta and we were finally on our way home. Those last driving miles and hours were the longest, but overall a good trip.
And then in the mail the next day, an audit from the IRS for the 2006 tax year. Drat!
At least my ebay sales went well, and I ended up buying DDR Universe2 for my XBox which I have enjoyed greatly, much to the detriment of my knee cartilage.

My total Flake-Out

I pride myself on not being too dippy in the head, that is, I don't make promises I don't keep, and I usually know where I am going and what I am doing at most times. However, I had a major moment last Fri night, and I am throwing it out there so that your dippy moments look better by comparison.
I had a lot to do on Thursday and Friday, so I made lists and wrote down what I needed at stores, and that type of thing. Brianna was at Gramma's house for the long weekend, so at least I didn't need to keep track of her or entertain her while I was trying to do it all. Not all of it got done, but that is typical for me, in that I write everything out, but in descending priority so that if the last things don't get done, it is not so big a deal. But I didn't write down my appointments, figuring I had them on the calendar and in my head. I was staying in town specifically to go to book club on Friday night, otherwise I might have gone to fetch Brianna earlier.
So I spend a total of 5 hours (over two days) waiting in the smoky lounge for my car to be checked and maintained for my upcoming long drive. I went to four stores out of the six I had intended, but was frustrated because the grocery stores no longer carry Marianni dried cherries which are the only good ones as far as Brianna and I are concerned. I worked on painting, I strung beads (for Mom's B-day), and I knitted (for potential cold weather on upcoming long drive). I watched some garbage on TV for the first time in months. I planned to come back early on Sunday to watch more of the Complete Jane Austen on PBS, wondering how they were going to fit Emma which took 14 hours of CD time into two hours of viewing time. I swept the roof (inhaling metric tons of pollen), vacuumed the porch, sold my iPod on eBay, raked five can of leaf litter, had a teacher conference at Brianna's school (very favorable), washed five loads of laundry, planted daisies, watered them, and grilled some steak, all by Friday afternoon. I was beat! I was considering one more errand to Kmart, but decided to postpone and went to my room where I was confronted by the two remaining loads of laundry yet to be folded and put away. I did that and sat down to read and then paint. It was 9:30pm by the time I remembered my 7pm appointment at BAM. The irony of reading when I should be at book club made full impact. Last month it was just me, wandering the lonely aisles of BAM on a Friday night, wondering why no one can bother themselves to come to a book club meeting if they love to read so much and why are they so busy anyway. And then I obviously couldn't be bothered this month and left some other poor soul to wander the aisles alone. I really had meant to go, I had it scheduled and everything. Why did I forget? Had I gone out on that last errand, it may have occurred to me as I passed BAM as a 'yoo-hoo, shouldn't you be somewhere' little bell going off in my head. I was too tired, too busy, and I let someone down. And all I can do is email my profuse appologies and kick myself mentally. I hate failure, the more so when it is in myself.

Tappity Tap Shoes

It is Wiggles-mania at our house. Brianna who adored the Wiggles at age three, shelved them (I thought) permanently at age four. I entertained the idea of either giving away or selling all the videos and DVDs we had collected of the loveable goofy singing quartet. However, she has recently rediscovered them, enjoying the sillyness, interacting and dancing along with particularly Jeff Wiggle. Her favorite is "Wake Up Jeff" and she also likes the eight-year-old girls that display very good Irish dancing skills. Hence, we must have tap shoes.
Do keep in mind that is the same child who when two, shrieked at me to stop singing or dancing along to these same videos. Now she is all participation, and she wants me to join in. I am flattered, though I have no right to be; it is just the age and stage, I know. Brianna really wants to dance, and to dance well, right now. Unfortunately, she has no talent for it. Now don't worry, I haven't told her that! This is not Simon Cowell's house, and I am not judge nor jury. I don't think you have to be born with dance talent to do appreciably well if you set your mind to it.
I bought tap shoes on eBay for a good price, and we already have the tile and wood floors that make exquisite sounds when being tapped upon. Now all we need is a little instruction. I don't know how to tap dance, but I am pretty good at Step aerobics, and have repeated enough workout videos to at least be able to teach her box steps, grapevines and cha chas. Still, I find teaching Brianna very difficult. She has a short fuse which medically I would deem 'Poor Frustration Tolerance.' She doesn't like me telling her what to do. She wants to do everything perfect the first time. So for once, I am hanging back, though it is not natural for me to do so. I want to preserve the fun for her. If she learns, it may be slow, but I will heartily cheer her on. Perhaps she will surprise me. With a love of dance, or persistence in practice, perhaps she will surprise herself.

Easter Bunny Mom

My daughter knows that I hid the eggs. She is not yet five, but she knew, before I could even tell my husband to entertain her for a bit. She said, "Go hide the eggs, Mom, and I will show you how fast I can find them." For Brianna, skeptic in the making, there was not even a question of 'Did the bunny come?' She told me that she knows that some person is in the bunny costume. I don't think that little Santa Claus thing is going to last much longer either. I tried to remember what we did last year, how she was already so sure that moms hide eggs with treats inside for the kids to find. I couldn't remember specifically, but I do remember her playing with those dratted eggs for over a week, hiding them, finding them, putting treats back into them, making me look for them. So this year, I have already hidden them away until next year. She will not be happy, but how does the religiously conflicted Mom explain Easter and the Passion? I told Brianna, "Many people believe that a man named Jesus died and then became alive again on Easter morning." She responded, "Well, I don't believe it." I am not surprised. Jason doesn't believe it. Although I was raised to believe it, I also have my doubts. I don't know, and I don't think anyone will truly know, and that is where faith steps in. So are we born skeptical? Do we train for it early? I think Brianna has a very logical mind, and she will not entertain concepts of Faith lightly. However, she still wants to travel to the North Pole and hang out with the elves.

Sticky Sap

This happened a couple days ago, and it is too funny not to share, though mortifying to my daughter: Full of Spring Fever, we took a little walk around Thornebrook shops and noticed the blooming flowers. Brianna grabbed one of the bristle-brush type flowers (and almost a honeybee in the process) and wanted to bring a sprig of flower home to put in a dish or a vase. She was in the habit of doing so since last fall when going to Gramma's house; she would pick a few flowers and put them in a dish of water and observe whether they lasted several days or only one. Azaleas are very nice for this purpose, lasting days and days in bowls of water around my house. We got home, prepared the dish, and the bristle flower promptly sunk to the bottom. Brianna was so angry! "Why doesn't it stand up like other flowers?" Ever try explaining surface tension to a four year old? Rather than try, I suggested we go outside and find some other flowers to put in the dish, but this was met with resistance since we only had azaleas and jasmine and both of these had been 'done' before. Outside we went anyway, and Brianna spied the pine tree stump oozing sap from its sawed surface. I explained sap as nutrition for the tree, that it rises from the ground all the way up to the leaves; that, and it is quite sticky. It had to be felt to be believed, and thus prodding and poking ensued. Who doesn't like to play with a ball of sap? What tactile bliss! My SIL can be happily occupied for hours by a single inch of scotch tape, so I know the feeling. After gleefully gluing our fingers together, Brianna then wanted it off - immediately. "Don't rub it on your shirt ... OR mine!" I said, "Go in the house and wash it off with soap." Brianna trotted in, but Goby was right at the door and escaped. So I walked after the old cat to collect him from under the neighbor's car (he wasn't budging) when I heard the shrieking from inside my house from across the street (yes, your old house, Jo!). Brianna came out beet red, crying and screaming at the top of her lungs . . . because the sap wouldn't wash off!
I suppose good mothers wouldn't laugh, but this was too funny. Such out-of-proportion rage for such a little set-back. Then she was screaming at me for laughing at her, which made me laugh even more. Finally, I controlled my smirking face, convinced her to flush the cat out from under the car (which worked like a charm), and went inside to see what removes pine sap. In case you need to know: apply lotion and work it in, wash with liberal amounts of hand soap, apply alcohol based hand sanitizer, wipe vigorously on a towel. And my parting words to daughter, "Now you know sap is sticky."

tent caterpillars

Brianna found a tent caterpillar today. It was a large vigorous one. I figured that if she didn't mess with it too much, we could keep it and see if it formed into a pupa and then turn into the lowly moth it was destined to become. If she didn't mess with it too much. But those fuzzy little bodies are just too much fun to play with. And no matter how much the little guy ran to escape, he was always found, retrieved, plucked from carpet with dextrous little fingers. We left him alone in a box while taking our old cat to the vet. Goby had lost some weight, but he is still not close enough to death to consider euthanasia, although we know his time will come relatively soon. Upon return, the caterpillar was again engaged to be the plaything of a fascinated four year old. This time, it pooped. Oh, how that became interesting! The turd was left on the floor for me to come see it. It was every bit what you would expect coming from a caterpillars butt. So I scooped it up to the garbage while Brianna continued messing, giving me some quiet computer time. Is it wrong to let the caterpillar be played with to death for my benefit (and hers)? After all, she was just exploring. And lord knows how many caterpillars, snakes and lizards I ended up killing in the name of playful learning. Anyway, after dinner it was apparent that the caterpillar was doomed, having lost all his former vigor. Brianna responded by slapping at it saying, "Wake up Fuzzy, Wake UP!" It responded by pooping in her hand. She had the innocence to ask, "What is this?" and didn't like my answer. Then she got mad when I explained that fuzzy was going to die. "Fine, take the friggin' thing outside!" But I think she felt guilty. The beginnings of empathy?

Give Gap ... Take Gap

Give Gap Take Gap was a road sign I once passed while entering the outskirts of south Atlanta one afternoon, doing about the average speed of 65 mph. No sooner had I wondered to myself, "Hmmm... I wonder what that sign means" when I realized I was now merging with another full lane of traffic also doing 65 or better. With barely any time to scream, cry or laugh (all of which I was doing), I gave a gap to the driver on my left and took a gap offered on my right. And it actually worked. None of us died, created a wreck, or for that matter, slowed down even a little. My voice returned to its original octive with a little twitter of insane laughter. My passengers (also with their hair on end, but laughing) congratulated me on not getting us killed and saying, "I guess I know what that means now."
I have never seen a road sign with that phrase ever again, though I have driven in or through Atlanta and other large southern cities before and since. People I have told the story to have posited whether the sign was a joke, a fluke or just a bad experiment by GaDOT. I don't know either, but that sign has stuck in my brain for ten years now. And the more I think about it, the more I like it and think it makes sense, especially now that I have read (listened to) The Secret. Yes, there is a lot of press about the Secret, Oprah et. al. throwing in their take on it, blah, blah, blah. That is why, when I saw it was available on NetLibrary, I had to download it and listen to it and judge for myself. All I can tell you is, I liked it so much I listened to the whole thing twice. Also, thinking about it will change everything you think about and every way you look at things. Like that Give Gap Take Gap sign. That is the Secret in an of itself. If you need to merge, take the gap. If you have merged, and are comfortable doing so, give a gap. It directly applies to driving, but it works in life too. If you really need something, ask for it, then look for it, then take it, and be thankful. If you are content and in a good position, give someone else a break (or a brake). Give Gap Take Gap. You will merge and it will all be okay. Now I say my new mantra whenever I am driving. And it works. Give Gap ... Take Gap

stinky worm

We have been playing, Brianna and I, in her little playhouse for the first time in months. Since it is open to the air, a lot of the toys (play kitchen and food) got very dirty, and I noticed some dried up earthworms on the floor. I broke out the Lysol and wipes and cleaned everything as well as could be hoped including the teapot, all the cups, saucers, bowls, etc. Brianna was a dear and even helped with the cleaning. The first day she played with the pretend lawnmower, until she broke it and no longer whirred to satisfaction. Plastic just doesn't do well in the Florida air. Today we were out again, and this time B was cooking for me. For some reason, she wanted to cook using the sand from the sandpit. No problem since the floor was already gritty with pine and oak pollen. What is a little dirty sand added to it? Then she wanted me to open the pint-sized teapot which has a tight fitting lid. I opened it up and found a dried up earthworm in there, too.
and then the smell hit me...
That was the stinkiest, weirdest smell. I mean, really, who would think that a three inch earthworm would produce a stink like that?!? I almost gagged, then went outside to remove the deceased annelid, which was crispy as one would expect, but stuck a little to the inside of the teapot. Then went back into the playhouse and commented that it still smelled bad, and opened all the windows to their fullest. Brianna made several trips to the sand box and filled the teapot with sand, then poured the sand onto a plate, then into the frypan, then back into a bowl and suggested I eat it 'like a cat'. MMMMmmm.
On her last trip in, bless her, she said, "Mom, it still smells like dead worm in here!"

Where is the Joy?

My young, smart, extremely organized, efficient, go-in-and-get-it-done sister in law had her baby today. I am very excited for her and her new daughter who weighed a nice seven pounds. However, poor M's labor was not what you would hope for a second baby. She labored for over 24 hours. I thought that the second one is supposed to be quicker than the first one?! She got to the hospital 'early' so that she wouldn't deliver in the car on the way over. She needn't have rushed, as she was only a dis-heartening 2cm. Finally by 4 am she was complete and by 7, baby girl was out. But, M had some tears including a painful urethral one. After all that work and effort, all the pain and stitching, M had to ask: I don't feel the joy like with my first baby. Where is the joy?
It is tough when you do not have the labor you hoped for. It is even tougher when you did have it the last time, but not this time. Maybe that is just part of th e pain of labor, that you frequently hoped or wished the experience went better than it did. And it is not from lack of knowledge. Most women really learn about having a baby, the stages of labor and everything. And there are pain control options which complicate everything. Maybe there is just too many variables that can go wrong. It is a miracle any of us got here. Maybe the true miracle is a birth experience that can be enjoyed and remembered fondly. It is time now to thank your mom!

Of stinkbugs and skunk-weed

I had been listening to a book on tape titled "Last Child in the Woods" about the paucity of natural experiences in todays children. It is an exceedingly pedantic book (and read by the most pompous ass with a bad lisp "mitothith" indeed!) but the point of it is good and one I subscribe to: Our kids are being separted from nature and outdoor experiences to their detriment. How can kids care about a rainforest in Brazil when they don't even like to get muddy? How can they hope to save spotted owls when they are afraid of perverts on every wooded trail? I have found a great deal of comfort on hikes, bikes and campings out of doors. And I am the last generation whose parents unceremoniously threw us outside to fend for ourselves when we were being too rowdy indoors. Now we are all afraid of the candy-toting, puppy-calling Stranger(-Danger!) who will kidnap our beloved kids the minute we turn around in our own front yards. Really, the best thing a mom can do is skim this book and reread "Protecting the Gift", say a prayer, and lead our kids out into the great unknown world so that they can learn to navigate it themselves. That said, I took Brianna on a mini-hike to the culvert off 53rd. We were just slipping down the steep embankment when she said "EWww, smelly gas, mom". Why I get blamed for every bad odor, I am not sure, considering the cubic feet of stink that little four year old can output. As it turns out, we had stumbled upon a pasture of Skunk-weed. Okay, I don't know the official name. But it is decidedly skunky in the skunk way. Not as strong as an actual skunk, but there were a lot of clumps of it. It has a beautiful purple flower. So we got down close and smelled it with great theatrics and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Many flowers were picked, water was touched, grass blades were boated, and Brianna was that much closer to the outdoors. She was a treasure that day. Later we took a trip to the Fairchild Oak for a picnic. Near or far makes no difference in her appreciation for the outdoors. Interestingly, it is a lesson that I keep having to teach her, as her inclination is NOT to go out, but play imaginitive games indoors. But then I have to keep teaching myself too, because I am not outside every minute I could be, yet I never regret being there once I am out.
So I mowed the lawn today. It was looking pretty shaggy and bad, and it is impossible to rake when so scruffy. Normally I wait until it actually goes to seed, but with another impending rain front and the ground still damp from the previous, now was a better time than most. The mower only took ten tries to start, and it wasn't long before I got a nose-full of that other odor synonymous with a Floridan spring: the stinkbug. You know you live in FL when you have to leave your Christmas tree outside a few hours so that you don't end up with stink-bug ornaments. Yes, a year ago November, I did have to wrangle a giant two-inch long specimen out of the house, hoping that it would not unload indoors. The stinkbug is slow-moving, bold, and pretty fun to play with, but watch out for its spray. Am I the only one who thinks that the smell is similar to that of red delicious apples? I really hate red delicious apples for that reason. I cannot bite into one without thinking of: This tastes like stink-bug smells. So I managed to mow over or near two stink bugs today. Yummy. Think I will go eat some apples. Happy Spring to you.

bloggers block

Oh, I just got a bad case of it. I had all these great ideas earlier. And now I can't even think where I was going with most of them. Some days are better for writing than others. Same way with scrapbooking. I can either lay-out the page or I can write about the experience, but I can't usually do both in the same session. I have got to get this e fixed or I will go crazy. This keyboard is new. Why doesn't the e work better? Cat vomit? oNe never knows.

Erma Bombeck "If I had my life to live over" style of parenting

I have been parenting my four and three-quarters year old daughter with what is best described as a mis-interpretation of Erma Bombeck's "If I had my life to live over" essay with some disastrous results. If you are not familiar with the essay, here it is:

I would have talked less and listened more. I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace. I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage. I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television -- and more while watching life. I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband. I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day. I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime. Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle. When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more "I love yous", more "I'm sorrys" ... but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it ... live it...and never give it back.

These are good thoughts to live by, and this from a famously insightful mother. However, somehow I got it screwed up in my head that this also meant:
I would have played Candyland more and cleaned the house less.
I don't know if I got that from another 'rules to live by' email from some well-meaning friend, or if I just added on this little tidbit my own stupid self. But that little screw-up has not worked out so well. For one, my dear daughter is fairly spoiled by my near-constant attention. This was really bad when she was three and early four. It has been hard to wean her of that attention, but with dedication (okay, more like I finally went brain-dead and began to tune her out), I have been able to focus on other things in my life. For another, my house had become a filth-pit of old food, cobwebs, and scads of toys. To that end (and to save my sanity), I began to focus my attention on some needed chores and away from said daughter. It wasn't well received at first. But I did get some sanity back in my life. I do NOT regret taking some time away from my daughter to clean my disgusting house. My girl has finally learned to entertain herself for short periods of time. She is seeing a good example in her mother that there are chores in life, and they must be done, and life is not all about play. And I find my domicile more livable. I developed a chore list that I actually refer to during the day, and it works for me. Now laundry doesn't pile up to the five-load level. The leftover food makes it into either the fridge or the trash. The dishes get done. And yes, I still have time for that game of Candyland!

New blogger alert

So inspired by Catboogler that I had to have a blog of my own, I have launched beckysuebutthead and hope to post bi-daily or whatever. My e doesn't work on my keyboard and it is pissing me off, so if you see any glaring mispellings, just add an e somewhre.
I had been blogging on the nutrisystem site, but that was mostly bitching about how hungry I was and how some food was okay, but other food sucked. Now I get to bitch about everything! Yay!
As for nutrisystem, I am only on it about every third day, and it somehow just doesn't work as well that way. Particularly if you blow it in spectacular fashion two days out of three. However, I am getting my exercise in because. . . Brianna can ride a bike around the block. Yes, her first bike, training wheels and all. And I jog/walk with her. I am so proud of her I could bust. Now, I hope to keep her interested and also to encourage her to go faster. She is a remarkably cautious child, and has a typical short-term interest in things. But I hope as she gets better at pedalling, to go riding with her, and for that I am very excited. Also Brianna likes to crawl on me when I do pushups, squats and situps. So the extra 34 pounds she adds definitely challenges my calisthenics.
So here it is, first post, add it to your favorites list. Tell your friends.