Beer snob

While watching my 5-year-old nephew Johnny last night, I remembered I had to send off a quick email. Johnny stood beside me and watched me type.

He instantly recognized a word he saw onscreen.

"No," he said, then spelled it out. "N. O. No."

I smiled at him. "Good job, Johnny! Do you know any other words?"

He just shrugged. I pointed to another word and asked if he could read it.

He couldn't, but he spelled out each letter: "H. E. A. T. H. E. R."

"That's right!" I told him. "Do you know what that spells?"

He looked at me expectantly, so I sounded out the first syllable to prod him.

"Heaaaa..." I said.

"...feweisen," he finished. I burst into laughter.

"Did you just say 'hefeweisen'?" I asked.

"No, I said hef-eh-VI-sen," he corrected, using the German pronunciation. Not only does this kid know his beer, he knows the proper way to say it. I laughed out loud again.

"Your dad is going to be so proud of you," I said, and of course, I was right, Smed WAS proud. 

And I was very amused.

There's a reason God made him cute

My boss Charlie and I were talking about extrasensory perception (ESP) yesterday, and he got very excited about it.

"I have really good ESP," Charlie said. And he set about to prove it.

He wrote a word on a post-it note, then folded the note up so I couldn't see it. He told me to be open to receive it mentally, then scrunched up his face and thought about the word really hard.

And though I really really really wanted to get the word, I didn't. So when Charlie opened his eyes and asked, "Do you know the word?" I just shook my head.

"No," I told him, a little bit sadly. Inexplicably, he smiled, and opened the note to reveal his word:

We both cracked up over it. I couldn't wait to go home and show Mark.

Mark's reaction was similar to mine--he burst into a huge grin, and laughed.

"How did Charlie DO that?" he asked.

"He's magic," I answered.

Mark wanted a shot at it, too. I gave him the post-it notes and looked away while he wrote down the word. I thought we were replaying Charlie's trick, so when he told me he was thinking the word, I was ready.

"Do you know the word?" Mark asked, and I shook my head again.

"No," I said, and waited for him to smile. Instead, he frowned.

"Uh uh," he told me. "Guess again." He closed his eyes tightly and mentally re-sent me the word.

"Um..." I stalled. I thought of his favorite words. "Cheese?"

"No," he answered.

"Fail?"

"No." Little man was getting mad. "Think HARDER!"

"OK, OK," I growled. "Um...epic fail?"

He opened his eyes and rolled them at me.

"I give up," I said. "What's the word?"

He unfolded his post-it note. And there, clear as day, was the word "Pie."

"You don't get this joke, do you?" I asked.

"Yes, I do!" he answered. "I just really like pie."

I suddenly realized our ESP might never work because, in fact, we are on completely different wavelengths.

But Mark didn't care. He'd already slipped into a dreamy state where he was imagining endless plates of pie.

I always thought he was a nut--turns out, he's actually a squirrel

Alternate title of this post: Perhaps it's time to buy Mark a nightstand.

Mark's room exploded over the Christmas holidays, what with all his new toys and us being gone so much. Mark came home, tossed all his presents, dirty clothes, and other assorted junk on the floor, leaving a mess that was nearly impossible to wade through.

I finally had it, and made him clean that disaster area up. He did a great job, and I was thrilled to see his bed back in order.

However, what I didn't know was that lurking just beneath that orderly, tidy bed were the first signs that my son has a problem. (I've seen enough episodes of Hoarders--I know how this all starts!) Or maybe I'm just working myself up over nothing--maybe he's really just taken the Boy Scout motto to heart and is actually...you know...being prepared.

Because here's what I found when I pulled the covers back to tuck my sweet boy in that night:

That's right, all the supplies you'd need in case of an emergency--or if you were stalling bedtime. Water, snacks, a nightlight, a book to read, a pen, and weights. A little more digging revealed his glasses, his iTouch, and a pair of tweezers for God knows what.

Mark was right behind me during the big reveal. I turned to look at him, and he just shrugged and said, "What?!?" in a really squeaky voice. "I use all that stuff!"

I didn't have a comeback to that, so I just sighed and motioned for Mark to join his supplies in bed. 

"I love you," I said, kissing him goodnight. "I don't know why you need all that stuff, but please don't hurt yourself lifting weights in bed."

He scoffed at me, as though that was the dumbest idea he'd ever heard (it was certainly the dumbest thing I'd uttered that day). "I won't," he said, and set about rearranging the supplies.

I left the room, and thought to myself it could be much worse. After all, he'd just cleared a path across the floor--half an hour earlier, and I could've stepped on any or all of those possessions.

And hey, in case of an earthquake or other disaster, at least I know where to get food, water, lights and weights. What else could I possibly need?

Beach House on the Moon

Returning from Florida would've been downright depressing if all I had to look forward to was work. Fortunately, my gaggle of girls knows the only cure for the post-vacation blues is another vacation, so we jumped right into the next one.

Our destination, Crystal Cove, was only 40 minutes from home, but it felt like we were far, far away, both in time and physical location. We stayed in the cove's little cottages, built right on the beach. (Our cottage was actually 30 steps away from stairs to sand, but really, who's counting?? OK, yes, I counted.)

We stayed in the Painter's Cottage, named, apparently, for this one random accessory nailed to the wall:

The ugly palette provided us with many giggles and a few snickers throughout the weekend.

The cottage was big enough to house the whole lot of us--me, Edra, Kathleen, Monica, Vic and our lone boy, Mark. Mark stayed with us Friday night, but then went off to diabetes camp. I knew he was looking forward to the beach, so I felt bad for him at first, until I remembered he was also going off somewhere fun, and I now had a whole child-free weekend with the girls. That, my friends, is what we call a win-win situation. :-)

I wasn't surprised that we brought enough food to feed the whole village, but I was surprised at how much of that food was chocolate. Vic brought the biggest candy bar I've even seen. It was so thick we couldn't even break it apart, and the only kitchen utensils we had were plastic cutlery. But my ever-resourceful son grabbed up a corkscrew and went to work chopping up that chocolate.

Saturday morning broke bright and sunny and we could hear the beach calling out to us. We packed our chairs, wine and gossip magazines, and heeded that call. But as soon as I hit the sand, I saw a familiar-looking building. My eyes immediately welled up, and I screamed, "It's the 'Beaches' house!" (Can't help it, and won't apologize--"Beaches" is one of my, and every other girl's, all-time favorite movies. Don't try to understand it, men, just chalk it up to one of the things you will never ever understand about us.)

It was, in fact, the very house where the pivotal last scenes were filmed in. I realized my very own idol, the Divine Miss M, and I stood in this very same spot. I didn't think the weekend could get any better, but it just had.

Of course, this called for a couple of Kodak moments. Here's the first, with me in front of the house, and the wind beneath my wings.

And here's the second, when I screamed at Vicki to look pale and sickly, so she could re-create a dying Barbara Hershey spending her last few precious moments on the beach. (Yes, my friends are very good to me, and they humor me quite a bit.)

We spent much of the day on the beach, with wine and girl talk. We hadn't seen each other since the holidays, so it was great fun to be all together and laughing again. We spent most of the day like this:

I felt so lucky to be in such a beautiful place with my very favorite people. If there really is a heaven, I imagine it will look like this.

Edra, Kathleen and I walked down to the tide pools to look for sea creatures. The only thing better would be if our resident marine biologist went with us, but apparently, she chose wine and the beach over educating her friends. No matter, we met a super nice man who not only pointed out the sea stars, but also gripped our hands and kept us from falling as we shimmied across the slippery rocks. It was nice to see chivalry is not dead.

After an impromptu supermodel photo shoot on the rocks, we headed back to the cottage. The sun was setting soon, and we didn't want to miss it, especially since we had prime seats.

The sunset was even more amazing than we could have hoped for. The visibility was great all day, and we could see Catalina silhouetted in the water. We also saw some harbor seals and a couple dolphins, but none of that compared with the show Mother Nature gave us.

The sunset was so gorgeous, we all cheered.

I was glad we'd had the sun and Catalina, because they both disappeared on Sunday. It rained a little bit, but not enough to dampen our spirits. We still staked out a place on the beach to read, and then eventually retreated to the cottage for lunch and a rousing game of Yahtzee, in which Monica scored an unbelievable FOUR Yahtzees. I jokingly ripped up my scorecard in protest, and was thankful Mark wasn't around to see my bad sportsmanship.

The rain cleared up, so we decided to walk. We started on the hiking trail, and ended up a couple miles later on the beach, where we discovered a little cave, and crawled into it. Our marine biologist was more helpful this time around, pointing out all the different sea birds, and the little things they ate in a beached bed of kelp.

As we walked along the beach, we spotted a pod of dolphins frolicking nearby, super close to the shore. There must've been five or six of them, and they were just awesome to see.

There was another tide pool along the way, but it didn't have nearly as much cool stuff as the one by our cottage. A huge flock of birds on the beach eyed us nervously, so we chased them, setting off an explosion of wings over the sea. We marveled at all the dilapidated cottages set precariously on the cliffs, slated for refurbishment, and wondered how they were still standing.

By the time we returned a couple hours later, it was time for a quick dinner, then it was off to the one bar/restaurant in town. We planned to drink and hang out with the other guests, but apparently, nobody got the message. Everyone else had checked out, or didn't feel like braving the bar in the rain. It seemed silly to keep buying $10 drinks in the cold when we had our own stash back home, so we settled our bill and returned to our warm, dry cottage, ending the weekend on a high note.

The whole weekend was perfect, especially after all the holiday craziness. It was so awesome to hang out with the girls, to just laugh and be silly. It was fun to sit around playing games, and gossip, to fall asleep listening to the crashing waves, and to sleep in late. I certainly love my big, long, exotic vacations, but truth be told, it's weekends like this that really keep me going. I can't think of a better way to spend them, or a better group of people to spend them with. And if the rest of my year is even partially this good, then 2012 is gonna be AMAZING!

Off to see the Lizard...

Lori gave me just one homework assignment for our trip: to decide which part of the Everglades to visit during our trip. I totally blew this assignment, but luckily, Lori picked up my slack.

Last time I visited with all the girls, we went to the Everglades just south of Miami, at the beginning of the Keys. This time, we ventured in a new direction--west.

I was pretty excited, because I've never been to Florida's west coast. I'm amazed you can drive to the other side of the state in less than two hours. (It takes all day to drive from one side of California to the other.)

The road was marshy, and completely flat--Lori told us all of Florida is like that, and the highest point in the state is Space Mountain. Not only was the road cool, it also had an awesome name--Alligator Alley. 

Alligator Alley cuts right through the swamp land, and is filled with the most amazing birds. There were cranes, herons, ibises, osprey, turkey vultures, and cormorants, filling the sky and the trees along the water. I was so excited I could barely contain myself, and almost made Lori crash the car multiple times with my screaming.

Because it was a long drive and I was super excited, I decided to make hand signs for the birds, which Lori first questioned, then mocked, and finally played along with. I thought she was ignoring me until I made an incorrect sign for a blue heron. She showed me the correct sign, and I just smiled, realizing she got sucked into playing my little game.

We pulled off the main road, stopping at the visitor's center just off the Tamiami Highway. They pointed us toward the boat rides in Everglades City, a few minutes away, and off we went, to book the 90 minute mangrove tour. (It was a real boat, not an airboat with the giant propellers, which freak me out and, according to Lori, flip over a lot.)

A cold front had rolled into town. On land, it was no problem--we simply put on our jackets. But as we climbed aboard our tiny boat, and motored out on the water, you could really feel the cold biting into you. Poor Mark was miserable--even with two huge sweatshirts, a hat and a hood on, he froze. He cinched the hood tightly around his face, and never even looked up at the beautiful surroundings.

We spotted our first wildlife right away--this little osprey was guarding her nest, and giving us the stink eye. She was pretty, but I really wanted to see other animals--namely, the ones on the sign.

The mangroves were beautiful. It was low tide (really low tide!), so we had a great view of their skeletal roots. It seemed almost impossible that those skinny roots could hold up those huge trees.

We cruised along the water's edge, chasing off all the birds. The blue herons and cranes were giant, and flew off gracefully, flapping their enormous wings effortlessly.

We saw tons of turkey vultures-they were also big, and kinda freaky looking up close. Captain Marty told us they're the only birds who raise their wings above their shoulders, and that we'd always be able to recognize them now.

We cruised through the water, marvelling at the gigantic osprey nests filling the trees. Lori spotted a gator sunning itself, and there was a collective gasp from the boat as Captain Marty pulled closer. I shuddered a little, realizing there were probably a hundred other gators nearby which I couldn't see.

We cruised on through the Everglades until Captain Marty reached a small opening in the trees. He slowed down the motor and carefully guided the boat into a long, narrow waterway. We could reach up or out to touch the mangroves, and the birds were so close, I wanted to grab one of them, too.

Suddenly, the lady behind me yelled, "Gator!" Everyone in the boat turned where she was pointing. I turned, too, but couldn't see the dang thing.

"Where?" I asked eagerly. "Where? Where???"

The whole boat pointed, and I kept flipping around until finally I saw it--right in front of me! Seriously, the thing was like three feet away, napping on the ground just above us. Captain Marty laughed and said I was just the type of girl he likes to date. I'm pretty sure he meant ditzy, but hey, whatever. ;-)

It was a big gator--10 feet long. It never even flinched, just eyed us warily. It was pretty awesome.

We saw one other gator down the way, in the water. We saw its snout and eyes just before it slipped underneath.

When we ventured back to the main waterway, the tide had really gone out--Captain Marty said there was barely 18 inches off water below us. Someone asked if he'd ever seen it this low before, and he said, "Once. I got my boat stuck and had to get towed." I don't care how long it was for, if our boat got stuck, I wasn't taking even one step out of that boat!

But even with the low tide, Captain Marty returned us safely to the dock. He also told us where to go to look for more wild gators, but warned us about leaving the car. Hey, I may look ditzy, but you don't have to worry about me getting out to pet wild alligators!

We drove down the Tamiami Highway a bit, until we got to the place. It was a dirt road, with just a few other cars kicking up dust as they slowly drove on. We slowed down at the first stopped car, and sure enough, there was a gator in the water right next to us! After that, we stopped when the other car stopped, and saw three or four big gators skulking about.

There was a little gallery a few miles down the road featuring Clyde Butcher, a photographer Lori called "the Ansel Adams of the Everglades." Like Adams, he totes a giant format camera all through untouched parts of nature. I couldn't wait to see his work.

We pulled up to the gallery, and I was charmed right away. The surrounding swamp was gorgeous, especially as the sun was dipping.

But even here, there were reminders that this is wild country, and not a zoo.

The photos inside were stunning; Butcher is indeed a very talented artist. Besides massive, gorgeous swamp-scapes, he also had some tiny photos of Ghost orchids. All I could think of was the movie "Adaptation" and how Nicolas Cage, as demented twin brothers, spends his lives hunting the elusive orchid.

The one gallery employee gave us a brief history about the orchids, how valuable they are, and how hard they are to find. She said she actually treks out deep into the swamp yearly to check on the orchids, wading through alligator-infested waters for HOURS to get to them.

"Wait, for hours?" I interrupted. "And there are gators?"

"Yep, for hours," she repeated. "But the alligators out there don't see many people, so they leave us alone. It's actually worse when they sink to the bottom, because then you don't know where they are."

She also said that when they find the orchids, they map the location using a GPS. Which I thought was really smart, but not smart enough to override the fact she was wading through gator-filled swamps.

"If the water is deep enough to wade in, it's deep enough to canoe or boat through," I said later to Lori and Mark. They both nodded in agreement--just hours earlier, we'd seen how little water Captain Marty needed to navigate our boat.

The sun was setting as we left. We drove past the Everglades visitor center, where I saw 5 or 6 more alligators laying out, and people staring down at them. We had a little drive, about an hour, to Naples, our destination for the evening. Lori was excited to give us something I've never had in all my other trips to Florida--a view of the sun setting over the water. It was a gorgeous sight.

After a quick night in Naples, we returned to our wildlife hunt. But today, we were stalking a new creature--manatees. We asked the locals where we could find them, and one guy actually told us to go to the zoo. The rest of them told us to drive an hour north, to the power plant, because the manatees love the warm water the plant puts out (I did not, however, want to see glowing, irradiated manatees).

Lori the Most Awesome Hostess Ever did some quick thinking, and instead booked us a manatee tour that was on our way home, instead of in the opposite direction. With the problem solved, we walked around Naples a bit, enjoying the shops and lunch.

We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to the random manatee marina. What we did not budget for in that time was getting lost.

I will admit that getting lost was completely my fault. I wasn't paying attention, and absently guided Lori to a wrong turn. Then, to my horror, I saw a bridge in the distance, and began to sweat--Lori is TERRIFIED of bridges, and this did not bode well.

However, Lori handled the bridge like a champ. We were already over the bridge, laughing and whooping it up, when she realized that we were probably NOT supposed to be on Marco Island.

A call to the tour company confirmed this. The guide said he'd hold the boat for us, and repeated the instructions carefully.

What he did not say was that the bridge back from Marco Island is wholly different than the bridge over. Lori had previously told me, "I'm not sure if a bridge will freak me out until I get there," but apparently, this was that type of bridge. Poor Lori melted down, immediately slowing the car and driving it into the center of the lanes. I tried to talk her down in a soothing, calming voice, which had the completely opposite effect. I told Mark later that he was never to repeat any of those words again! (Which is ironic, because Lori is one of my friends who curses the least, bridge days excepted!)

We tore down the Tamiami Highway, and were actually only five minutes late. We even beat the tour guide there.

"You must've been going fast," he scolded. "Because I drove from Marco Island, too." We just smiled sheepishly.

We boarded the boat excitedly. (Well, Mark and I were excited--poor Lori was trying to come down from her adrenalin-pumped panic attack.) The captain eased us out of the slip, and then drove us about 100 yards to the next marina.

"Here we are," he announced, 30 seconds after leaving the slip. "It doesn't look like it, but this marina's FILLED with manatees--at least 200-300 of 'em!"

I was skeptical, but he he was right. Within seconds, we heard the tell-tale whoosh! of animals coming up for air. All around, you could see what looked like coconuts pushing out of the water, and then suddenly, diving back under.

The manatees never actually come out of the water, and it was hard to get a good look at them through the dark, brackish water. But a few of them swam right up next to us, and we could see their whole bodies. I screamed with delight each time this happened, which was completely counter-productive. As soon as they heard me, they dove back down. I swore I wouldn't scream the next time, but I did scream like a little girl each and every time.

We puttered around the rest of the river, and eventually took one last final look at the manatees in the marina. It was so incredible to see them, so many of them, and out in the wild. I went home a very happy girl. 

Our Everglades adventure was over, but Mother Nature still had one last treat for us. Just before we returned to Alligator Alley, we spotted this beautiful sight. Alligators be damned, we got out of the car to take pictures.

And to give thanks to Florida and its beautiful Everglades, for giving us some incredible memories to cherish.

Ringing in the New Year, Florida Style (Part 1)

The first part of our Christmas vacation was all about home and family. But the second part was a little more exotic--a trip to Southeast Florida, to visit our friend Lori.

Lori bravely (and a little nervously) offered us the West Wing of her beautiful house, which Mark and I promptly filled with mayhem. We did our best to wear Lori out on a daily basis, making her stay up later, talk and scream louder, and laugh and panic far more than usual. I'm pretty sure Hannah's Christmas observation also applied to this visit--Lori was glad to see us come, and she was glad to see us go.

Our first full day was New Year's Eve. I crashed--err, attended--part of the Children with Diabetes conference, while Mark and Lori swam in the hotel pool. We spent the afternoon in Coconut Grove for the King Mango Strut parade, and then had dinner at my fav restaurant, Aruba.

Sine we had no official New Year's Eve plans, we headed downtown, where a giant ball of lights was about to drop. We got there just in time to see the ball light up. 

 

We scored some goofy 2012 glasses that lit up, and walked up and down, cracking ourselves up. We even amused up Obie, the Orange Bowl mascot, who we stopped to dance with in the street.

We a final stop for ice cream, and to make friends with a cute young guy, Andy, who declared us a fun bunch, and said he wanted to party with us. Mark was a little puzzled by that, but Lori and I cracked up.

Our 2012 glasses were a big hit, so we took them on the road, spreading good cheer to Ft. Lauderdale. We zoomed through the streets, windows down, wishing everyone a Happy New Year. I was having a blast yelling anonymously at people, until quite suddenly, we stopped, and I found myself two feet away from a bewildered couple on the sidewalk.

"HAPPY...uh, New Year," I said, dropping my volume as the car stopped. The couple looked at me, and just laughed. Puzzled, I looked at the road in front of us--there was no traffic stopping ahead. Then I glanced at Lori, who was doubled over laughing. She totally stopped on purpose, just to embarrass me, up close and personal, in front of that couple. As soon as I realized what was going on, I burst into laughter, too, and Lori zipped off. Well-played, Lori, well-played.

We ended our busy day at Lori's, watching a big raccoon in the backyard, and then the countdown specials on TV. My two favorite party animals fell asleep on the couch by 11:45, although Lori rallied and woke up just before the ball dropped.

The first day of 2012 was all about football. It was the Miami Dolphins last game of the season, and Mark's very first NFL game ever. (It was my second--I'm not much of a sports fan, but I love a big event!) 

 

Lori reminded me once again we were in Don Shula country, and of course, just after she said that, we stumbled onto a statue of Mr. Perfect Season. She even goaded the ticket taker into asking me how much I love Don Shula. ("Soooooo much!" I answered enthusiastically.)
 

And then, ironically, who pulled onto the field in a golf cart, but Coach Shula himself? We lost it over that one.

Lori sported her 2012 glasses, which were such a big hit the night before. They were just as funny during the day.

The game was awesome--we scored awesome seats just behind Lori, the Dolphins won, and Jimmy Buffett sang "Fins" every time the Dolphins scored. I love Florida simply for the fact that they play Buffett music everywhere, at all times. I'd forgotten that happy little fact.

By Monday, all the travel and holiday craziness finally caught up with us. Poor Mark was exhausted, so we let him sleep in till almost 11:30, while Lori and I caught up. We returned to the Marriott to swim in their fancy pool, but when storm clouds and gray weather came rolling in, we bailed. The temperature quickly dropped, falling from 78 to 73 degrees. Lori immediately started shivering, and announced she had hypothermia. I laughed at her, until we returned to the empty beach parking lot.

"See," Lori told me. "All the other Floridians went home, too. They couldn't handle the cold weather, either."

Turns out Lori was right...because the next day, Florida had a cold snap. The weather was 50 degrees and windy, and you could immediately spot the locals. They were bundled up in parkas, scarves, beanies and gloves. You could also spot the Northeastern tourists, who wore shorts and t-shirts.

We'd planned a mini road-trip that day to the Everglades. It was incredible--and worthy of its own post tomorrow. (I took a LOT of pix there!!)

Our last couple days were also pretty busy. We saw lots of Florida wildlife, including a mama duck and her little ducklings. I made Lori pull over so we could see them up close. As Lori scooted ever closer, I warned her to keep her distance, and not anger the mama duck. Lori haughtily replied that ducks don't attack people.

And she was right, that mama duck did not. But when she moved in for a closer look at another duck on the nearby pier, all hell broke loose. I turned to see all hell break loose, in this order:

• Lori approach the duck.
• The duck honked, and flew directly at Lori.
• Lori screamed and ran away, protecting her head.
• A nearby walker jumped out of her shoes, and moments later confessed that Lori and the duck scared the crap out of her.

In the two minutes it took all of that to occur, I nearly died of laughter. Mark was still in the car and missed the entire scene, but Lori and I could not stop laughing about it the rest of the trip. I congratulated Lori on her animal instincts, and the fact that she has a new-found duck phobia.

Despite Lori's new fear, we did have a date with another duck--the Miami Duck. Unfortunately, it must've heard Lori's other duck story, because it broke down before we even hit the road or the water. We sat in the Busted Duck until they fixed it. Lori took this time to become close friends with the tour guide, a cute young guy named Javier. Javier loved his new best friend Lori (or, as he called her, "Lo-Lo") and made her the star of the tour, which Lo-Lo loved.

What I loved was Lori's outfit--my favorite Floridian still hadn't thawed out. Check out the differences in our wardrobe:

It was, I might add, a freezing 68 degrees.

The sun finally came out on our last day. We checked off our last few wish list items for Ft. Lauderdale, which included lunch in a swinging table, and prying open a fallen coconut. Lori and Mark refused to let me help, citing I was not to be given any sharp tools. Instead, I watched them work from Lori's new backyard swing.

Our trip was such a blast. We had so much fun with Lori--thank you, Lo-Lo, for being such a wonderful, hilarious (and patient) hostess! My face still hurts from laughing so much. I had a great time hanging out with Lori, and showing Mark all around Florida. Our adventures were the perfect start to a new year, and a great reminder of just how lucky I am. If the rest of my year is even half as good as this first week was, then 2012 will be AWESOME!

Happy New Year! (Oh, and uh, Merry Christmas, too!)

OK, so I've been a little lax in publishing posts lately. The holidays were busy, and there were many adventures to be had, so I definitely slacked in the blog department. Herewith I offer my first humble post of the year, which, ironically, is actually a recap of Christmas from last year.

This Christmas was one of the best yet. I'm not sure why; there was nothing extraordinary about it, no surprise guests or big, outlandish gifts. It included all the regulars; my family, our close friends (hello, Fera-Schanes' and Roppés!), and even an old high school friend I reconnected with over lunch. 

What made it special, though, was that exact cast of people--all of my favorites, in one place, at one time. It's why Christmas is my favorite time of year, because I get to spend it with such amazing people. You could hear the laughter from three houses away, and you could definitely feel the love and affection we all have for one another, if you just dipped in a little past all the sarcasm.

I know it drove my mom nuts having all of us home at the same time (as the old family joke says, we brought everybody but the chickens!). But she loved it, too. When I told my niece Hannah how glad my parents were to see her, she wisely noted that "Grandma loves to see us come, but she also loves to see us go." All I could do was laugh, because no greater truth has been spoken. My parents do love to have us all home, but there are 16 of us (and two dogs!) in the immediate family, and not a quiet one in the bunch. So I know what Hannah's talking about, and I reassured her Grandma feels the same about the rest of us.

I love just sitting around with my family--my brothers, sisters-in-law and parents--laughing and re-telling the same childhood stories again and again. Usually, the kids (my kid and  my nieces and nephews) are outside roaming the neighborhood, or in the hot tub, cramming in as many bodies as possible and splashing the living room window. But this year, they wanted to join us. They crept in slowly, quietly, the older kids at first, and then the middle kids, pulling up chairs and claiming their places at the table. They listened to us tease each other, and then jumped in with their own jokes. They're older now, and they get it; they share our twisted Dinsdale sense of humor, that sarcasm, and the ability to tease you in just the right way, so that it's biting but not hurtful.

They've spent their lives watching us adults interact, and now, they're mini versions of us, teasing whoever's in the spotlight, and masterfully deflecting when the attention turns on them. I've always loved these kids, but this year, I really grew to appreciate them--they are everything you'd want in kids, funny, smart, and just genuinely nice people. I think they are what made the difference this this year. I really appreciated their humor, their wit, their personalities, and I enjoyed spending so much time with them all over the holidays.

But enough with the love. I'm a Dinsdale, after all, so enough with the all the mushy love. Let's move on to the funny. And to the pictures...

I managed to corral Mark and most of his cousins on Christmas Eve. These kids are the masters of facial expressions and in every shot, at least one kid is squinting, popping out their eyes, frowning, blinking, sticking out a tongue, throwing gang signs, or doing all of the above. It takes roughly 60 shots to get one semi-decent portrait. I will confess that my brother Smed was feeding me rum drinks all afternoon, and so I only had the attention span to shoot 30 shots.

Here's the most decent result:

 

The adults are not much better. They don't squint or blink as much, but they do spend most of the time bossing each other around, and telling each other where to stand and what to do. I found this motley crew in the kitchen where Smed was handing out a high-alcohol content lager he called "Christmas in a glass." It was both potent and delicious.

Christmas for me, at least, started out beyond early. The house was full, which meant people slept pretty much anywhere there was an open space. The kids usually take over the living room (we call it "the dorm"), but because of Santa's imminent arrival, they got booted. Which meant we had to make room somewhere for the three 11-year-olds. I offered them the floor in my room, and boy was that dumb! I forgot how exciting Christmas morning is when you're 11. Now multiply that excitement by three, and you'll see my mistake. I realized my error when I awakened to an excited voice shouting, "Wake up, Nick, it's 4:30!"

I heard Nicholas jump up. Without opening my eyes, I barked, "Go back to sleep! No getting up until 6:30!"

I heard a round of groans, but they complied. Kind of. I heard a scratching at the door, and Nick let his dog, Sunshine, in. The kids then proceeded to play with Sunny over the next two hours until I finally gave in and let them run off to the living room.

"Look, but don't touch!" I yelled after them.

The kids laid out their stockings on Christmas Eve, but in all the excitement, they forgot to leave Santa any cookies. My mom substituted Mexican bread, or at least the pieces that were left after Sunshine's binge on it the night before.

The kids patiently opened their stockings, but were itching to get on to the good stuff--the sea of presents which overtook the room. 

My mom insists we take turns opening stuff in an orderly fashion, but that usually only lasts a few minutes. Mayhem quickly ensues when there are six kids involved.

My brother Tim loves shaved-ice, and has a favorite shop on Maui. My parents bought him this spiffy apron from the store, which is called Local Boys. But as Tim put the apron on, one of the kids read the words out loud.

Smed answered, "Yeah, we always suspected," and with that, Tim immediately pulled the apron off and refused to don it ever again. His wife Kim modeled it for us instead.

Gabi, who earlier informed us that her college of choice will be a "party school," also got some great gifts. Check out my favorite little fencer, and her new uniform:

And yes, most of us did get stabbed with that foil.

The big hit of the day were the remote controlled helicopters I got for Nick and Mark (and which, Gabi angrily reminded me, I did NOT get for her). They spent the day buzzing our heads, or dropping them suddenly on our feet. Somehow, miraculously, they managed NOT to break any ornaments on the tree.

My nephew Johnny arrived mid-morning, and I tried to get another group shot of all the kids. They wouldn't stand still long enough for me to get my flash working properly, so this is as good as it gets:

Later that night, I was walking down the hall, and heard a whole lotta commotion going on in the living room. This is what I saw when I turned the corner--somebody got a new game, and the kids were really digging it.

It reminded me of my college days, and how we used to stick playing cards to our foreheads, and guess what we had. I have a feeling Gabi will do really well in party school. 

The day after Christmas is Hannah's birthday, and we spend it the same way every year--at Sea World. These two jokers were lollygagging around the shark encounter:

I tried to take another group shot, but as I focused, Tim told all the kids to start walking toward me. It threw off my autofocus and made me laugh, all at the same time, so I never did get a good pic.

My parents stayed home to enjoy the silence, but we returned that evening to ruin it for them. HWe sang to Hannah, and then, because her cake was so small, we removed the 4, so it looked like a baby's first birthday cake. Hannah didn't much appreciate that, but she got over it pretty quickly.

Other family pics from the dinner:

Mom and Dad

Scott and Mari

Tim and Kim

So, all in all, it was another fantastic holiday. I really did feel ultra-lucky this year--everyone was healthy, happy, and together. I just felt grateful to have them all around me, to be safe and snugly tucked away in all the laughter and love of my friends and family.

I can't think of any Christmas gift better than all that.