Wrapping up the week...and July

After kind of a whirlwind month of travel hubbub and...whatnot...the final row on the July calendar featured...a whole lot of mundane. I checked in with the naturopath, who remains very pleased with the results of her ministrations so far, and commended me on doing such a good job...of basically avoiding many of the things I like to eat. She decided that, since my hand has improved, but every food I test seems to cause...ahem..."digestive repercussions"...the next logical step would be to (are you ready for this?) "heal my gut's microbiome" so that it returns to a state of more efficiently and effectively filtering out toxins that cause inflammation in the first place. Well...that sounds reasonable to me--and it involves nothing more complicated than taking a couple of kick-butt probiotic-type compounds, so I'm on board.

As for the boys, Derek is facing down the end of his lazy, hazy Summer days already, as he attended his school's soccer mini-camp (held in conjunction with UNC) this past week (half-day Wednesday and Friday, full-day Thursday). This event acts as a tune-up for official tryouts, which begin tomorrow...at 7:30 a.m....with another session at 6:30 p.m. So to be clear: he's going to be getting up even earlier than he has to during the academic year...voluntarily...weeks before he has to report for, you know "classes and stuff".

Last August the whole process turned out to be pretty darn torturous (although Derek, in his typical roll-with-it fashion, doesn't remember it that way, so maybe it was just his nervous mother...yeah, that sounds about right...). You see, the coaches had such a large and deep pool of talent to choose from that they didn't form the teams...for THREE WEEKS. Derek reports that this year their plan is to make all the necessary cuts by the end of the first week, then just spend the rest of the time placing players on JV or Varsity. Here's hoping they stick to the agenda...

And, Riley--we went back to the orthopedist, who took yet another set of x-rays, examined the photos, and told us that as far as she's concerned, he's good to go. "Do you want to get rid of the boot?" she asked Riley, who responded in his typical low-key manner, "Yeah, sure!" (I don't know if she could see me off to the side, frantically nodding my head in fervent agreement...) So now he's okayed to walk everywhere--inside and outside the house--in just his own footwear. Even more exciting, she gave him a "return to running" interval program so he can begin rebuilding some of the cardio fitness he's lost during his period of forced-sedentary...ism. So far this weekend he's taken twice-daily jaunts around the block, to get used to actually striding in shoes again. So far...so good...

To close out our July, what better activity could we possibly dream up than...Back to School Shopping? Whoo...hoo? Seriously, I asked the kids what they needed to get ready for the impending term and they gave me this:
Derek: "Um...nothing. (Loooong pause...) Wait, I need a polo shirt!"
Riley: "Uh...I can't think of anything."
Me: "Well, you grew a bunch this year, so probably some of your shorts need to be replaced, right?"
Riley: "Oh, yeah! I need shorts with deeper pockets, to hold my phone!"

Alrighty, then, you heard it here, folks. This should be the quickest, easiest trip in history! But then... Husband heard the chatter that we were heading to Kohl's...and, well...he doesn't get out much...and he instantly got all excited about coming with us. Siiighhhhh. Now it's a Family Outing, and suddenly becomes much more of a complex endeavor...fraught with PERIL, I tell ya. (However, I couldn't argue that he needed to purchase new shorts, as I'd flagged him on vacation for wearing a pair that was--I'm not kidding--actually shredding in the....gluteal....area. MEN!)

So, of we went, to storm the castle...um, "department store". I accompanied Derek first, since I suspected that, left to his own devices, he'd just grab the first shirt he spotted in an acceptable color, regardless of cost, quality, or what have you, and be done with it. But oooooh nooooo--under my strict supervision, he tried on at least 5 different ones, so he could make an informed, intelligent choice.

With that accomplished, we rejoined Husband, who'd successfully assisted Riley in selecting 3 pairs of athletic-type shorts. Derek gave them a quick glance and commented, "Hey, I have those." Riley immediately asked, "Do you mind if I buy the same ones?" To which Derek scoffed, "Nah, I don't care." In fact, how little does it bother Derek? He failed to notice that he was in fact actually wearing them at that very moment. When his...lack of attention to clothing detail....was pointed out to him, he retorted, "If I just went to all the giveaway days at baseball games when they were handing out tee shirts, I wouldn't even need to shop!" (BOYS!)

Well, that had all gone quite smoothly and easily, and I thought we were finished...but Husband had not yet even attempted to find his own pants. So we stood around waiting for him to make his selections, and the inevitable happened...Derek abruptly exclaimed, "I'm STARVING!" Followed up by the predictable, "Are we building food into this trip?" Ay yi yi. The toddler days of carrying snacks and sippy cups with us everywhere we go are long behind us...but now I sometimes forget (How? I don't know...) that we have to arrange excursions around the eating schedule of teenage boys...which somehow is even more daunting.

At least they don't throw tantrums when they get hungry (nope...that would be more like ME)...and after a quick stop at Staples (aka Nerd Heaven for Team WestEnders) our Back to School purchasing is complete. (Brushes hands together briskly, with great satisfaction...) But hold on just a minute...I'd better go and double-check that the pantry and fridge are stocked for Derek's upcoming twice-a-day workouts...and sooooo it continues...August, here we cooooommmmeeeee!!!!

Crutchless in Chapel Hill

So, you might recall the other, non-travel-related Summer Saga around here: Riley's broken tibia. He'd been in a cast--at first a regular one, then the "air" variety--and using crutches since the unfortunate event happened, on June 2nd. Meanwhile we'd been diligently obeying doctor's orders...giving him extra Vitamin C and calcium...assisting him with his stretches...and sticking to the letter of the law regarding what he was and was NOT allowed to do...such as "put any weight at all on that leg" (this will be important later, trust me). We went back to the orthopedist for a progress report on July 14th, keeping our fingers and toes crossed that it would be all good news about his recovery, and that at least the most stringent restrictions would be lifted, allowing him freedom for more activity and movement.

With bated breath, we awaited the official Physician's Proclamation after she reviewed his x-ray...and she declared him HEALED. (Hallelujah!) Specifically, she said there was no longer any visual evidence of the break in the photo, and that he didn't need to be cautious about protecting it from pressure from here on out. She told us that he should begin walking in the boot, without the...metal appendages. Furthermore, he ought to work towards getting around without it--inside the house to start.

Well! All this sounded fine and dandy to us, opening up a whole new realm of possibilities that had been kept from him so far during his school vacation. For example, he might be able to finally stand and balance enough to throw a ball with his brother (who has been patiently anticipating Riley's return to form, but would desperately like to have his sports-mate back)...even if he's not quite ready to run pass routes, like they enjoy doing. He could potentially shoot hoops in the driveway...although chasing the ball down our steep slope if he misses will have to be delegated to someone else.

Then...a wild thought occurred to me: maybe, just maybe he's permitted to...but hold on, I'd better ask permission, just to be sure...wouldn't want to go jumping the gun and doing anything too crazy right off the bat. So I tentatively inquired, "Um...can he...stand on both feet when he's taking a shower?" I swear, the very kind, sympathetic orthopedist--who up until that moment in the conversation had been positively bubbling over with warmth and enthusiasm--screeched to a halt...and eyed me as if she was either totally perplexed...or I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. After a brief silence, during which it became clear that I was not, in fact, going to add anything to clarify, but that my question was meant to be taken at face value, she replied, "Uhhhh...hasn't he been doing that already?"

Oooohhhh-kaaaaay, lady--I get ya. Obviously, you don't know us, here at Team WestEnders, but let me clue you in on a little something: We. Are. RULE. FOLLOWERS. Therefore, when a trusted medical professional gives us a directive, we do not waver in our resolve to carry it out, to the best of our abilities. So, let me remind you that you distinctly said, with great conviction and gravity, that he should not stress the weakened bone by resting weight on it. Well, guess what? He DIDN'T!

Ay yi yi. This was certainly eye-opening for us--I mean, who knew that doctors expect you to cheat when they give you advice? Which may explain why, when she next tested his ability to stand, put pressure on the leg, and even take a step...the results were...shall we say "less than successful". The bottom of his foot, from not having touched the ground in 6 weeks, felt very uncomfortable; he had a huge bruise along his instep from the continuous confinement of the boot; and of course his muscles, ligaments, and tendons were all stiff. Then there was the psychological hurdle--which we didn't discuss in the doctor's office, but rather held off until we were alone in the car on the way home--of some...residual fear. Having been through the horribly painful experience of incurring a broken bone, Riley was just plain scared to challenge the limb...even if an authority figure who know what she's talking about gave him the green light.

This was something he was going to have to work through, but luckily he'd have help and support, because Dr. C also gave us the go-ahead for kicking off his "Return to Sports" physical therapy program. (Yeah, you bet I made that first appointment immediately upon returning home...) The next morning we left for 4 days in Atlanta, and using crutches was just quicker and easier than trying to practice ambulating in an unfamiliar city, with out-of-shape legs. However, when we got back....Riley still struggled to overcome the mental block...of trusting his leg to hold him up. He made a million excuses, and he got sooooo frustrated...but I figured he just needed some time.

Last night, he must have reached the point where he was ready--or, you know, maybe just "supremely fed up"--and I turned around to see him slowly, carefully strolling over to me...without the boot. Granted, it looked a bit awkward, and hesitant....but it was under his own power, unaided by any devices. (I honestly think I was even more thrilled than he was...but that could just be my naturally excitable nature...compared to that of a less-emotional, almost-teenage boy....) Next thing you know, with his newfound confidence, he's learning how to navigate in the boot, so he can go out into the big, wide world without the crutches. And now...he's outside playing BASKETBALL with Derek (in the stylish plastic footwear...we're not THAT rebellious..."acquiescent" is our middle name, remember? Or something like that...).

Definitely strides (ha!) in the right direction. Now we've just gotta keep up the p.t. sessions and at-home exercises, focus on rebuilding strength and stamina....and hopefully one day soon we'll be counting down to Riley joining his new team on the soccer field...at least for workouts, even if he's not yet cleared for game situations. Baby steps...and keeping those fingers and toes in the crossed position!

Georgia...Geooorgiaaaa (a la Ray Charles...)

Because we here at Team WestEnders firmly believe that it's good to mix it up a little bit while on vacation: yesterday we had some culture...today, COKE! I had visited the World of Coca Cola attraction the first time I came to Atlanta, decades ago during grad school. But the rest of the family had never experienced the...cheesy-yet-extremely-entertaining phenomenon. So after breakfast we made our way downtown for what was sure to be an amusing...sugar-filled...morning.

Our first impression upon arriving was an inevitable comparison to Disney World. Like all things in the Mickey-related realm, it was well-orchestrated and efficiently-run--beginning with the brisk Security line, scripted introductory spiel, and short film presentation...a tear-jerking montage of gooey advertisements, all featuring prominent product placement and designed to warm the cockles of your heart...or something. (Okay, okay, I admit that it worked on me, and I did find myself getting all misty-eyed--don't judge!)

Then you were free to explore on your own, wandering through displays devoted to such topics as the history of the secret Coke formula, Coke-inspired art, and the bottling process. All very interesting and engaging, no doubt, but really just a prelude to the REAL reason you paid the price of admission...the factor I used to lure my crew into enduring the over-the-top-commercial aspects of the museum dedicated to a fizzy drink....the famous Tasting Room. Or, as I immediately came to think of it: Command Center for the Highly Sugar-Buzzed and Caffeinated Masses. It was seriously chaotic...and sticky...and loads of awesome.

The way it works is: you grab a cup, and sample any of 100 flavors of Coke, from all around the world, most of which have NO resemblance whatsoever to the cola we're used to consuming here in the States. The first one I tried happened to have a pleasant lemony taste...but there were many that were not nearly so...palatable. Such as the bubblegum version from somewhere in South America. Or the kind that tasted EXACTLY like liquid toothpaste, sold in Djibouti, Africa. In my opinion, the fruity options--mango, peach, and even apple--were somewhat strange...but generally not bad. However, I was prudently being careful to take a small mouthful of each, and being selective about which ones I tested.

Then...there was Derek...the kid who rarely drinks soda at all...and then, only Sprite or decaffeinated Root Beer...went a little bit nuts in the joint. He made it his mission to do carbonated SHOTS of...darn near everything. Then when we'd had our fill and were preparing to leave, he admitted that he might have overdone it...and swore off ingesting anything sweet for "at least a week". He was honestly acting almost tipsy--giddy, giggling, talking a lot but not making much sense--and (since I knew the cause) it was pretty doggone hilarious. So we laughed at him as we walked back to the car...as was clearly required in this situation.

But...there was no time to waste, as our next destination awaited. We navigated to Turner Field next, for the 1:35 Braves game, against the Colorado Rockies. Again, I had seen the stadium, back in the 90s, but it would be a new one for all of the guys. We noticed two things fairly quickly upon arriving: 1) unlike what we're used to, at Camden Yards, there were very few fans streaming toward the entrance and 2) It. Was. HOOOOOOTTTT. Both of these would directly affect our afternoon, in fact; since not many people ended up attending the event, and the weather didn't pull a miraculous cool-down, we abandoned our ticketed seats (in the scorching sun) and moved up into the shade whenever necessary (as did everyone else during the course of the 3-hour contest, it appeared).

How uncomfortable was it, you might ask? Let me put it this way: although we'd basically skipped lunch in favor of our Liquid Refreshment Tour, it was too steamy outside for any of us to consider actually eating. (Yes, even the perpetually-starving teenagers...shocking, right?) Fortunately, this gave me plenty of free time to meander around and take photos, such as the iconic Coke bottle, situated above center field; the skyline beyond the outfield wall, with vistas that included the gold-domed Capital Building, a towering statue representing the Olympic torch from 1996...and the future home of the Braves, SunTrust Park, under construction right next door.

Alas, the game itself was a snoozefest, with no offense and precious little of interest happening on the diamond. So the liveliest topic of discussion happened to be...why on EARTH do they play Christmas music before the game and at every inning break? I mean, they even had Santa Claus drive around the perimeter in a convertible, tossing t-shirts to the crowds (or, you know, "handfuls of loyal baseball folks who courageously faced the heat...and hometown team's ineptitude...to sit through the futility"). What the WHAT, Atlanta? The only thing we could come up with was that it was a ploy to make us feel cooler. Well, news flash: it didn't work...even a little bit. But it did crack us up...

Anyway, after 7 frames of zeroes, Riley announced that he was D-O-N-E. The only one who protested leaving at that point was Derek--who usually insists upon sticking it out for the full 9, no matter what--but he was overruled by the sweaty, tired majority. (Hey, we'd made it past the obligatory 7th inning stretch, which we always try to do, so we can hear what special song each team plays after God Bless America. If it's Take Me Out to the Ballgame, we're not impressed, as we deem this too standard and boring. But in this case we were not disappointed by the very appropriate.... Devil Went Down to Georgia. (Well done, Braves.) Besides, we had yet another activity planned for the evening (I know: what are we, cuckoo? Quite possibly...). We were meeting an old friend (from The Original Playgroup, circa 2000) for dinner, since she moved from Maryland to the outskirts of Atlanta in 2003.

Since she's more familiar with the area...and keeps to a gluten-free lifestyle as well...I left it up to her to suggest an appropriate and appealing eatery. She in turn got a recommendation from a pal, for a place called True Food Kitchen--which advertises itself as "eco-friendly" and "health-conscious"...and clearly labels items on its menu as gluten-free, vegetarian, and/or vegan...BUT also incorporates plenty of meat options for the Male Posse. (Can anyone say "right up my alley"? Sold!) Happily, it satisfied everyone in our little gang with the offerings--and was delicious, to boot. Finally, because (diet be damned) it was simply impossible to pass up, we strolled across the parking lot to Sprinkles for cupcakes. (Eh, I'll just eliminate everything again...tomorrow...yeah?)

Wow...no wonder I'm wiped out! Between the glucose-overdose...the sub-tropical conditions...and the ambitious agenda...I need a nice long nap. It was a fabulous last day in Atlanta, but one thing we've already realized is that there's so much more to do. So, we need to return someday and pick up where we left off. For now, so long, Georgia, and thanks for the food, friends, and fun!

Animals...and Illumination

Today began with Team WestEnders going on an urban safari, of sorts...to Zoo Atlanta for a visit with the wildlife. As we wandered among the park's denizens, we found ourselves thanking the Weather Gods for the definitely-muggy-yet-also-cool...ish morning, rather than the swelter we had sort of been expecting in the southland. Along the way, we took time to admire sleepy, regal lions...a mama gorilla giving her baby a piggy (or...ape?) back ride...giant pandas (including twin youngsters) munching on bamboo (of course)...and my absolute favorite: an utterly spazzy newborn monkey--so small it could fit in your hand--zipping around its enclosure, pouncing on family members like it was begging them to play (sometimes they obliged, and the resulting wrestling match was hilariously entertaining).

We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, but after all the walking, Riley was fairly exhausted, not to mention developing blisters from his crutches. So we headed back to our (borrowed) neighborhood of Buckhead to regroup and refuel. In the whole "taking it easy" vein, we ventured out on a short stroll, across the street from our hotel for a late lunch at Chipotle. Then we had an Executive Decision to make: which of us was up for exploring the Atlanta History Center in the afternoon...and who was either out of energy...or less interested in the prospect?

Predictably, Riley opted to skip the second activity and rest for a while, so Husband volunteered to stay back with him. That left Derek and me to go soak up some historical knowledge...and whatnot. When we arrived, dark clouds had gathered in the sky, a few raindrops spit down on us threateningly, and ferocious rumbles of thunder warned us of possible impending...meteorological mayhem. In addition, the helpful person who sold us our tickets advised that the buildings would be closing in about a half-hour, so we hastened to tour them all before the deadline.

First up was a reproduction of a farm from the 1860s, which the guide informed us put it in the era just before Sherman came through on his famous March to the Sea...and decimated Atlanta. We did a quick spin around the main house, kitchen structure, smokehouse, and of course the inevitable slave cabin. Next we made our way over to the Swan House, a stately, gorgeous mansion featuring impressive architectural details such as soaring marble columns, intricate carved stonework, and a grand entrance staircase. (We were even more awed upon finding out that it had been used as President Snow's residence in the Hunger Games movies!) Outside, the beauty continued, with a cascading fountain leading down to a vast emerald green lawn (which Derek immediately declared enthusiastically as "PERFECT for football!")

Back inside the museum, we meandered through the intriguing exhibits, including one dedicated to the Civil War. The artifacts and displays were undoubtedly fascinating...but I had to remind myself that I was, indeed, in the heart of the former Confederacy when I read some of the wording on the signs...such as when it described the South's motivation for entering the conflict as (something along the lines of, because I can't remember the exact sentence) "to maintain their Constitutional rights to preserve their way of life". Um...yeeaaah...and we're just kind of...glossing over the fact that this lifestyle they were so desperate to hold onto...depended on owning and enslaving an entire race of people?" Reeeaaalllly? Seems a bit...shall we say "sugar-coated"...certainly to this Damn Yankee...

Anyway, the other room that we had a great time in was entitled Atlanta in 50 Objects, which attempted to sum up the city with iconic people, places, events, and things. Examples included Hank Aaron, Delta Airlines and Chik-Fil-A (neither of which did I realize began around here), Peachtree Street, Coca Cola, homages to both the film and hip-hop industries, TRAFFIC (I was actually happy to have my impressions confirmed, because until we attempted to navigate the roadways around here, I had no idea this metropolis was such a hotbed of gridlock...and crazy-ass drivers. Now...I definitely know...), Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights movement...and a whole bunch more really cool stuff. Then, having fulfilled our cultural needs for the day, we rejoined the non-travel squad back at the hotel to report on our adventures.

So, I'd have to say it was an altogether successful sightseeing day, covering experiences of both the natural and educational variety. Which is good, because tomorrow we'll be swerving away from the enlightening, and straight towards leisurely American pastimes, baby...bring on the Coca Cola (museum)...and (Braves) baseball!

Next: Storming Atlanta (in an entirely friendly way)

Well, Team WestEnders had been home for just over a week, recovered from the time-zone and weather differences, unpacked, reorganized, and gotten back to normal life...so, clearly, it was time to get the heck outta Dodge again. For this excursion at least the logistics were less complicated--no airport, no "restricted item regulations" for what we could stow in our bags, no limits on how much we could bring (except, you know, the volume of stuff we were able to smush into the trunk of the Hyundai), no time constraints. It was sure to be (relatively )stress-free traveling, I tell ya!

Oh, right...where were we headed? 300 or so more miles south, to Hot-lanta. (LITERALLY, but what else could we reasonably expect in July?) After we loaded the car and vacated the premises at a leisurely 9:45-ish, we settled in for a day of road-tripping...with one new wrinkle. You see, Derek would be taking a turn at the wheel, for the very first time on a family getaway. Yep, that's certainly a recent development...and one that, if I'm being perfectly honest, made me a wee bit (translation: super-duper)...nervous. Don't get me wrong, it's not that he's a bad driver. It's more of the...hmm... "inexperience factor" that causes  my unease.

But, as the most alert Morning Person, Husband accepted the first shift--2 hours or so, before a "visit the facilities and play musical seats" stop at a gas station just off the highway. Then the teenager stepped up for the middle portion of our journey--and I moved to the back, to situate myself as far as possible away from the scary view out the windshield. Just kidding! (Mostly...) He did fine, except for a tendency to go slightly faster than my comfort zone...and to drift a smidge too close to the rear bumper of any number of very large trucks that seem to clog any and all lanes of Interstate 85. (In case you're wondering, this was proven to NOT be just my imagination, as Husband finally pointed it out and advised him to widen the distance. Whew! Then I decided it might be in my best interest to take advantage of the opportunity to close my eyes and take a lovely, therapeutic, nerve-soothing NAP, so...problem entirely solved!)

At the end of the rookie's allotted 2 hours, after one more brief break, I took over the controls for the final approach (eventually) into Atlanta. Aaannnnd, cue the gridlock. (Grrrr...) Actually, it could have been a great deal worse, as it was now closing in on official Rush Hour on a Friday afternoon...but it turned out to be just a fender bender that had already been cleared out of the path, so it didn't end up slowing us down for too long. Shortly past the excitement, just as the road ahead of us appeared to be seriously jamming up, for real this time, the GPS instructed us to exit. Yesssss!

We had arrived at our destination: Buckhead. (Or, as Derek insists upon calling it, "Where are we staying? Buckwheat, right?") I know you must be thinking, "Wait...didn't you just tell us you were going to Atlanta? Then why is your hotel in a neighborhood to the north?" Well, it's very simple: I didn't wish to (ahem, make that "utterly refused to") pay $800-$1,000 for 3 nights in downtown Atlanta. Therefore, we sleep in the suburbs! (She said with authority...and the credit card...)

And you know, we haven't seen very much yet, obviously, but Buckhead so far seems like a lively, interesting place. Okay, to be more accurate, when we arrived it was a noisy, congested, trafficky nightmare. But then things calmed down; we walked around a little bit; and we even found a suitable dinner spot...merely a short stroll away from our lodging. (Right? How often does THAT happen? To answer my own rhetorical question: N-E-V-E-R.)

Anyway, it's called Farm Burger, and besides the meat versions for the Male Posse, they offered a veggie/quinoa variety...on a gluten-free bun. AND (wait for it...) sweet potato fries. Seriously, for me this was like some kind of...culinary dream come true...or what have you. And I know I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I was well beyond the outer reaches of starving...but it was delicious. Not only that, but the lady at the counter who took our order called Riley "sweet pea"...steered me away from my initial selection and into an alternate choice on the menu (which as I already mentioned, worked out beautifully)....and when I inquired as to whether I could get honey for my tea, gave me a look that said, "Why are you even asking me such a silly question?" before exclaiming, "Why, of COURSE you can, sweetie!"

A bit later, as we were devouring our meal, not one, but two separate employees came over to check on us, ask where we were from, and chat about how one of the owners (Jason, I think they said) likes the Durham/Chapel Hill area and may consider expanding there in the next couple of years. So, we here at Team WestEnders, speaking for the entire Triangle region--with no power whatsoever, but take our word for it anyway--hereby put our wholehearted stamp of approval on this plan...for what it's worth...Jason...my new buddy.

Then, given our long day of cruising the blacktop, we decided to take it easy, chill in our (pleasingly swanky, by the way) home-away-from-home, and rest up for the actual sightseeing we'll be doing in the next few days. Goodnight for now, Atlanta...Buckhead...whatever--catch you in the a.m.

You Win Some...You Lose Some...

Alrighty, then...if you're still paying attention to all this nonsense, here's an update on the Reintroduction Phase of the Elimination Diet (aka "The Current Bane of My Existence"). Since the naturopath and I were in complete agreement that we wanted eggs back on the menu for me, that was the first thing I tested. Egg whites one day, egg yolks another. And guess what? I reacted to BOTH of them. Are. You. Kidding. Me? That was the very last thing I expected to be a problem, honestly...and seriously disappointing.

Fortunately, the friend who was staying with us a few weeks ago had a great thought when I caught her up on the whole saga. She noted that I might not experience the same...consequences (believe me, you don't wanna know) if eggs appeared as an ingredient in something. Therefore the gluten-free bread the doc had recommended (in response to my whining about how g/f baked goods all SUCK--I swear it's like trying to choke down extra-dry cardboard...or so I would imagine...), which contains egg whites, was worth a try, all on its own. Aaannnd...besides actually, you know, tasting like bread is supposed to...it didn't seem to bother either my stomach or my achy hand. Yessssss! So at least there's THAT.

Next on the list was corn. While the old digestive system seemed fine with it, my hand did hurt a bit more the next day. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that...until the same thing happened with cheese. Then it hit me: on the "Avoid Everything Under the Sun" portion of this delightful little experiment, although eating was a logistical nightmare...the inflammatory pain pretty much disappeared. When I started tweaking the whole thing by adding foods back in...the symptom reared its ugly head once more. Well...son of a...gluten-free...biscuit!

That's it, I'm going on record right here, right now with the following statement: I don't care if I have to deal with a little bit of discomfort...I am N-O-T being a vegan-for-life! No way, no how. So there! If eggs are gonna cause a problem, fiiiiiine. But saying goodbye to cheese is absolutely not an option. Of course, I'm having this conversation with myself...we'll see how how fiercely I'm able to stick to my guns when I sit down face-to-face with the doctor next week!

However, one thing I can say in defense of dairy products is that I noticed yet another repercussion of cutting out some of my preferred sources of protein: I started to feel tired and run-down. Not to the degree of "lying on the couch unable to move", but after a month of such a restrictive nutritional repertoire, the last several times I tried to run, my legs felt like blocks of lead. Very unlike me, and also quite different from the usual "it's hot and humid" reaction I'm used to managing. Yeah....I may have mentioned before...there are only so many beans and nuts one can power through, every single day...

Speaking of which, it was finally peanut butter's turn in the rotation. Happily, my favorite banana-partner didn't seem to have any negative effects either. And, reinforcing my amateur hypothesis, this week when I had both cheese and peanut butter..my evening run--despite drenching humidity--was characterized by distinctly more energy/less dragging.

So, what I'm inferring from this, so far, is that I might have to give up eating unadulterated eggs (Sniffle). The naturopath is probably going to have me continue to avoid gluten (Sigh...Okayyyyy). I don't really care about corn and will consent to keeping that out if she wants. But cheese and yogurt and peanut butter? They're rejoining my life on a regular, permanent basis, ASAP.

Oh, and I saved the best for last: I get to "challenge" chocolate. Remember that "Yes, you may...but buy it unsweetened" gibberish she tried to foist on me at the last appointment? I found a possible work-around, thanks to a co-worker who shared a recipe for (wait for it) Vegan Chocolate Pudding! Right...you probably would prefer I didn't disclose what's in it...and I'm darn sure not telling my loving family before I spring it on them--I mean "share the goodness of my unique dessert". As a matter of fact, I should sneak downstairs right now and prepare it while they're not paying attention. Then tomorrow...mmmm....chocolate...and whatnot!

Seattle Finale

For our final day in Seattle, we saved a biggie (literally): Mt. Rainier. Now, of course we couldn't do the 5-mile hike we'd originally researched and chosen, so like all well-prepared trekkers, we went with Plan B...in lieu of feet, conquer the peak by way of 4 wheels, instead. Thus we set the GPS for what appeared to be the closest Visitor's Center, and rolled out...with some urgency, as we were under cloudy skies that already looked very suspect, as if they were just holding the threat of rain over our heads and waiting to open up at any moment.

We then wound our way for about 2 hours through some wonderfully picturesque countryside--filled with those ubiquitous emerald pines...and precious little else. The thrill of anticipation upon finally entering the National Park was tempered a bit, however, by the swirling fog that now enveloped us at ground level. As we climbed into the higher elevations, the ghostly wisps thickened...until you could barely glimpse the scenery on either side of the road...much less, say, the actual mountain. Sigh...

Don't get me wrong--there was still plenty of natural beauty to gaze upon and admire: rushing rivers, craggy cliffs, icy channels carved into the tops of hulking hills, cascading waterfalls, teal lakes...to name a few of our favorites. We cruised along through the astonishing landscape, pulling over whenever something spectacular caught our eye (often) and drinking in the sights. However, when we reached the spot called Paradise, which was where one is normally supposed to be able to gaze upon Mt. Rainier clearly, in all her glory...we could barely even see the building that houses the Visitor's Center...and everything else was completely obscured.

There was a set of steps leading up into the whiteness to trails beyond; Husband and I, after a quick adults-only consultation, decided we couldn't in good conscience pass up the chance to see if there was anything at all visible beyond the parking lot. However, it was wet and slippery, making it impossible for Riley, so we left the boys in the car and took our own little tour. And let me tell ya....we quickly discovered that we'd opted for a half-mile excursion...STRAIGHT UPHILL. I mean, the kind of walking where you need to lean forward to keep your balance, your thigh and calf muscles burn, and your lungs heave because your altitude is about 5,000 feet. Oh, and did I forget to mention there was SNOW to navigate through? Yeah...it was challenging...but also amusing.

And well worth it--although we never did spy the elusive mountain, we were lucky enough to get up close and personal with some wildlife: a couple of marmots (fuzzy groundhog-looking creatures who were not in the least bit concerned about us tromping by as they munched on grass next to the path) and 2 grouse (slightly more skittish, but they cooperatively held still for a photo). I'm sure it's even more impressive when, you know, Summer actually hits and the fabled wildflowers burst into bloom...but apparently July 5th is too early for that particular phenomenon. Who'da thunk?

Anyway, we thanked our lucky stars once again that we'd been blessed with such stunning vistas from the top of the Space Needle a few nights ago, so at least we did get to enjoy Rainier from afar. And on the whole, we had lovely weather, super-fun activities, bonus time with friends...a very successful WestEnders expedition into the Pacific Northwest. So long, Seattle--thanks for the memories!

Adventure on the High Seas (kind of)

Today--I'm gonna be honest--Team WestEnders was dragging a bit from all of the late nights, running around, and...general vacation-type antics. So we considered ourselves lucky that we had a transportation-heavy activity on the agenda to celebrate Independence Day...because really, what's more American than...good old fashioned...whale watching? (Okay, probably quite a few things, but work with me here, 'kay?)

The tour I'd booked for us left from the Port of Edmonds, just a bit north of Seattle on Puget Sound. After a leisurely 40-minute drive, we arrived in plenty of time to seek out a lunch spot before boarding the boat. However, our search was somewhat hampered by the fact that many streets in the small town were blocked off for the 4th of July parade, which appeared to be a verrry big deal in these parts. People (and pets!) of all ages decked out in traditional red, white and blue lined the streets, waving flags, cheering, and getting their patriotic groove on, big time.

When we did finally find a parking spot, we didn't have much time left for actual dining, but we were rescued by the Here and There food truck, situated in the middle of the adorable town-square-ish area, that served barbeque and hotdogs for the boys, and clearly-homemade black bean sliders for me. (And might I add....YUMMM!) Then we hustled down to the dock to meet our crew and get this party...um "voyage" started.

The vessel for our trip was called the Chillkat Express, which Captain Brian proudly informed us was the "fastest ship on the West Coast", reaching speeds of 40 mph. There was also an onboard naturalist, who kept us informed with interesting tidbits throughout our excursion, such as the fact that there are currently only 83 Orcas left in the wild, due to their food supply--primarily chinook salmon--declining. She also gave us the important notice that we'd be taking the "alternate weather route" based on the remnants of the previous night's large swells, caused by 30-knot winds (I don't know exactly what that means, but it sounded pretty bad, so I just took their word for it...).

But the initial part of the sail was smooth and easy. We gazed out the windows at the turquoise water, deep green pines, and spectacular houses lining the shore. Then we entered the strait known as Deception Pass, and things got a bit...choppy. The 63-foot boat bounced around on the waves...in a slightly disconcerting manner....but not too difficult. Shortly thereafter we reached our destination: San Juan Island, where a small pod of 3 "Transient Orcas"--a mother with her 16-year old and 4-year old offspring--had been spotted earlier in the morning.

Alas, they seemed to have moved on, and we were not to be graced with a whale-sighting. The captain and staff apologized profusely, but what can ya do? Nature does its own thing, and that's the way it goes. So we turned around and headed back...which is where the afternoon got a little...dicey...for one of Team WestEnders' merry little band of travelers. Some background: last night, Riley told me he's been feeling a bit unsteady on his feet these last few days since disembarking in Seattle. Specifically, he said that the ground occasionally feels like it's lurching under him...and he wondered if any of the rest of us can relate? (Um...noooo, honey, that's just you. Sorry...)

I figured he might have some fluid in his ears from flying...which made me worry about him riding in a boat for 4-1/2 hours. So in an effort to prevent any...maritime calamities...Husband took him to a drugstore this morning to get a pair of those motion-sickness-prevention bands you put around your wrist, which exert pressure on an accupressure point and are supposed to quell nausea. (I have my own pair, and always wear them on water-journeys--I swear they work...) However...the return trip to shore treated us to quite a bit more of the roller-coaster-ish motion, and at some point we noticed that Riley was missing. As we peered around the cabin, a fellow passenger (a teenage girl) walked by and asked who we were looking for. "Crutches," Husband succinctly told her. "Oh, he's getting sick in the second bathroom," she helpfully replied.

Oops. Our intrepid explorer had succumbed to the rolling surf...and roiling stomach. When he rejoined us, he was deathly pale, overlaid by a lovely shade of seafoam green (delightful for, say, walls...not so much for skin). Fortunately, Husband always carries his migraine and anti-nausea medication...just in case...and he was able to provide Riley some pharmaceutical support to help settle the tummy. Thus he made it the rest of the way back without further incident, to everyone's collective relief. Nonetheless, we were all pretty happy to reach solid ground again. Even though we didn't get to observe any wildlife, it was a scenic tour, and enjoyed by all (well...maybe some of us more than others...)

Tomorrow, for our last day in the Pacific Northwest, we're sticking to terra firma and tackling Mt. Rainier...in a car, anyway. For now, we're signing off...and keeping our fingers crossed that the bed doesn't feel like it's rocking tonight!

"Baseball and Friends" Day in Seattle

Unlike the "fly by the seat of your pants" nature of our first couple of visiting days in Seattle, Sunday had an agenda: Mariners vs. Orioles at Safeco Field. This meant we got to spend a much-needed leisurely morning relaxing, before making our way back into the city. Then we cruised the now-familiar highway until we were instructed by the GPS to take Edgar Martinez Drive...which makes total sense...as he's only one of the most famous Designated Hitters in history and a beloved former icon of the Mariners organization. 

We patted ourselves on the back for leaving so early as we came to a screeching halt in a looooong line of cars queued up to find parking. But on the bright side, we had plenty of time to admire the hulking structure of Safeco field, looming over us only a few yards away. After letting Husband and Riley off at the curb to minimize their walk (hobble...whatever...), Derek and I went in search of a place to stash the car. The first lot we saw wanted $30...which gave me unpleasant flashbacks to the San Francisco Giants, and triggered a stubborn "no way in hell" reaction. However, only a block further was a $20 option...which we deemed acceptable, so we jumped on it.

Pleased with our first decision of the day, Derek and I approached the Left Field side of the ballpark and were politely asked by a nice young man if we'd like some "gluten-free, non-GMO snack bars"? Why YES, yes we would...well, make that "I would....and I'll take my son's, as well". (As an aside: in my short time here, I've become tuned to Seattle's funky, crunchy-granola vibe, which I kind of L-O-V-E. Furthermore, the whole family has made the inevitable comparisons to San Francisco in terms of natural landscape, artistic environment, foodie culture, and laid-back attitude. Okay, back on topic...)

Then as we entered the gate, we were handed reusable shopping bags with the Mariners logo. What? Free giveaway swag for the out-of-towners? Aaannnd the good feelings continue! As usual (or so we've been told) the day dawned kind of grey and gloomy, punctuated by occasional sprinkles and spritzes. However, even by the time we started our journey towards the stadium, the clouds looked like they were valiantly trying to clear. When we arrived, the roof was closed on Safeco, to protect the grass and infield from becoming a swamp. It was still a nice venue, no doubt...just a bit… dark. However, about a half-hour after we walked in, they started the process of sliding the roof back, opening the seating bowl to the increasingly blue sky. And after that, my friends, the view of the skyline, and the Seahawks' stadium right next door, was pretty stunning.

Our seats were also pretty awesome--just to the first base side of home plate, exactly where we prefer to watch a game. So, leaving Riley and Husband safely settled, Derek and I took a lap around the different levels, to see what there was to see. Some notables: a shrine to Ken Griffey Jr. (who will be entering the Cooperstown Hall of Fame in 21 days, as announced by the banner hanging over Right Field); dedicated Peets coffee stands (does this surprise anyone,  regarding the java-crazy Seattle? I didn't think so...); also multiple stand-alone wine kiosks (for the more refined taste buds?); and, at one lone concession outpost...sweet potato fries (yessss....I can eat something here!). 

After our mini-tour, we returned to the family and got comfortable for the game. In this case, I should mention that preparing for this outing had involved long-sleeved shirts and multiple layers...which is quite the strange concept for us Mid-Atlanteans to be bundling up for an outdoor sporting event...in July! But the temperature hovered in the upper 60s, with a cool breeze--thus we noticed it appeared to be only the natives who dressed in tees, with bare arms showing. (More power to 'em...brrrr!) As for the game itself, the less said, the better from an Os fan's perspective. It was...um...a pretty abysmal performance all around. But we were sitting next to a lovely family (older couple and their grown son) who chatted with us pleasantly throughout the entire 9 innings, making it a much less painful experience.

Since, you know, "eating" is one of those necessary activities in the lives of Team WestEnders, the next order of business was to make a dinner plan. As luck would have it, we actually know a couple who live in the area (one of whom is originally from Maryland, if you're wondering how that happened), and had kept them informed of our adventures, so we could meet up if possible. They were free for the evening, and since the female half of the duo is a vegetarian (Yay! An ally...) she had numerous suggestions for cool places to have a produce-based meal...that she promised would even fill and satisfy the male carnivores in the group. 

Therefore we made our way slightly north of the city to the Sunlight Cafe, nestled in an adorably artsy neighborhood...and perfectly willing to meet any dietary restrictions I threw their way (because, you know, I'm just THAT difficult...these days, anyway...). During our dinner interlude, while we enjoyed our delectable selections, they regaled us with information about the area, featuring a mile-long list of things we should attempt to do...in the few hours of free time remaining to us. But at least one thing we could manage: ice cream at what they assured us is a must-try establishment called Molly Moon's, back in the city. Judging by the line--which is reportedly always out-the-door and around the block--it's super-popular. Since they offer a vegan version of ice cream, I decided to throw caution to the wind, ignore the "no sugar" edict for one night, and have some.

And yes, it was soooo worth it. How rich is this stuff? Derek finished his cone only with a herculean effort, and Riley couldn't even eat half of his. I can't remember the last time--if ever--that anyone has left dessert unconquered...but it was also more sweet stuff than we usually eat in a week, so there is that. While waiting to order, and savoring our ice cream, we had time to soak in the atmosphere of our funky surroundings—hoppin’ night clubs, eclectic shops, a lighted Astroturf field where people were still hanging out and playing, even at 10 p.m., and my absolute favorite: all of the crosswalks were painted with rainbow stripes, in the universal symbol of inclusion and acceptance for all people.

Well…did I mention it was pretty much bedtime? And with the impending sugar crash, we figured it was a good idea to hightail it back to the hotel and turn in for the night. It had been another full day of fun and excitement, and Team WestEnders was wiped out. See ya tomorrow, Seattle! 

Explorers in a New City

Okay, get ready: first full day in the Pacific Northwest, here we come! We managed to sleep until a reasonable local time...aided no doubt by the fact that we'd been up for 20 hours the day before. (Yeah, I almost wish I hadn't figured that out...) Our hotel breakfast (populated by swarms of Senior Citizens, apparently fueling up before venturing out to board Alaskan cruises) was really more like a Planning Meeting, as we set our agenda for the day. First up: the landmark Pike Place Market. So we loaded up our rental car with necessities (sunblock, hats, extra long-sleeved shirts for the somewhat unpredictable Seattle weather, and the inevitable SNACKS) and plunged forward into the Great Unknown...um "the city".

It turned out to be a pleasant 20-minute drive in which we got a birds-eye view of Seattle's gritty, industrial port side...vast cargo ships and gigantic loading equipment--concrete and steel as far as the eye can see. But then there's the spectacular water itself, a lake of blue surrounded by deep green pines and what appears to be (most likely high-rent) residential areas on the other side. Then to our right were the soaring facades of skyscrapers, some futuristic looking glass-and metal, and some very traditional brick, with cool architectural details worked into the construction. (Although my favorite has to be the tall one peeking out over the others just as you enter the city limits...with the entire top of the structure comprised entirely of the instantly recognizable Starbucks logo....ha! Well played...)

We somehow navigated our Sonata--despite all streets seeming to be one-way, towards the waterfront--to a parking garage where we could safely stash the car for a few hours. Then we caaaarefully picked our way down a steeeeeep sidewalk (watching our booted one closely, in case we had to grab him at any moment to keep him from slipping and rolling to the bottom) to the...PANDEMONIUM that is Pike Place Market...on a Saturday...of a holiday weekend. (What were we thinking? Us and thousands of others?)

It was utter chaos, I tell ya...but also pretty darn awesome. The smells as you slowly meandered down the row of stalls changed from spicy, to flowery, to fishy, to barbeque...y, depending on what was being sold next to you. And the array of colors were astonishing, especially on the fruits and vegetables. I swear if you didn't know better, you'd think they were fake, since produce doesn't typically look nearly that bright and vibrant in, say, your neighborhood grocery store.

Aaannd we got to see the famous "fish toss" shenanigans, where a couple of guys stand behind their counter and--you guessed it--chuck large sea creatures into the crowd, for bystanders to (hopefully) catch before throwing back. It gets lots of enthusiastic attention and rowdy participation...but I was happy to watch from a distance, thankyouverymuch. We also somehow found our way to a tranquil rooftop garden, above the teeming masses, affording yet another lovely view of the water. Then it was time to get out of the brouhaha, give Riley a rest, and procure some lunch-type-food.

Naturally, this was easier for the non-picky, un-diet-restricted carnivores...who found a place that boasted "voted the best meatball subs in the market!" and instantly plopped right down. (In retrospect, they also should have noted, "they're tasty, but they'll cost you an arm and a leg"...however, that's probably not as good for business...or my blood pressure when I saw the receipt...) I, on the other hand, wandered like a lost nomad in the desert, seeking an oasis of gluten-free, vegan offerings...until I finally gave up and settled on a gluten-free biscuit (that contained corn and potato starch, which are forbidden, but what can you do?). It was delicious, and the person who served it to me wore a Carolina Railhawks t-shirt, prompting me to ask where he was from...to which the answer was: Raleigh. Small. World.

Then the boys wanted to ride the iconic ferris wheel, while I opted to continue exploring on foot instead. What I mostly discovered is that Seattle has a penchant for...weird signage. For example, the one in the normal caution-shape and color, making you automatically stop and read, that simply stated: MUTINY. (A warning? A directive? What should I doooo?) Or the one that proclaimed, "Es un idioma dificil" (It's a difficult language)...huh? Seattle, you amuse me...but I'm not sure I, you know, "GET you"! After that, since we seemed to have temporarily broken the Riley (who was entirely worn out from clomping around for hours), we retreated to home base to regroup and refresh before our evening's activities.

Since lunch had been so pricey and filling (for the Male Posse, at least) and we needed a few things from a store anyway, we decided to just pick up edibles from Target. (Mmmm...sweet potato chips for dinner...) And we bought our crutched traveler some cycling gloves, to pad and protect his hands from the abuse he was putting them through on our marches around the city. Thus outfitted, we made our way back into Seattle to eat, and to take in the views from the Olympic Sculpture Park. It proved to be a very peaceful setting overlooking Elliott Bay, so you could watch sailboats while enjoying your makeshift meal...and admire?...be confused by? the large...unusual...art forms scattered throughout the venue.

Finally it was time for our Grand Finale of the day: the Space Needle. I'd booked us in the 8 p.m. slot, thinking we'd get good ambient light at that hour...and boy, was I right. Even though the tickets seemed a bit on the expensive side when I bought them, let me just say that for the view from the top, they were Worth. Every. Penny. Especially Mt. Rainier...at sunset. Literally breathtaking, as in "gasp and stand there stunned with your mouth hanging open"....before whipping out the trusty Nikon and snapping approximately 20 photos, from all angles. It's a peak that is utterly gorgeous and awe-inspiring...even from 2 hours away!

After we'd gawked for a sufficient amount of time to satisfy all of us, we called it an extremely successful day and left Seattle for the comforts of home...um "hotel". We were exhausted-but-content travelers, and needed the Big 3 Ss: SportsCenter, showers, and sleep, before our Sunday slate of entertainment. So...as Frasier would say, "Good morning (er "night") Seattle!"

The free, cheesy, obligatory tourist shot : )

Seattle bound...

Today was a loooong travel day for Team WestEnders...beginning at the unholy hour of 5:30 a.m. with a very sleepy bunch stumbling out of bed, throwing themselves together and heading to the airport. Well...it's more like 3 of us were silent and sedate...while Husband chattered non-stop in the car as the sun came up...even when I steadfastly refused to answer him, because it was freaking EARLY and I hadn't yet had COFFEE, for crying out loud. (Damn "morning people"...)

Anyway, we ended up cutting it closer than we usually try to, because we didn't want to leave the house any sooner than absolutely necessary. So we viewed the line at Security with relief...all approximately 20 people...even though Husband swears it was the most people he'd ever seen waiting at RDU. (We're still kind of conditioned to remember, and expect, and plan for the nightmare we used to regularly face at BWI--where in the past we had the stressful experience of being hustled out of the enormous queue in order to be specially processed and hustled away in time to make our flight.)

Not that it was without its...challenges, mind you. The TSA personnel seemed to have difficulty figuring out how to deal with our intrepid broken-legged-one. "Can he walk on it?" (Um, noooo, hence the, you know, "helpful crutches"...) Meanwhile the rest of us did the obligatory "remove sweater, shoes, belt, toiletry bag"...oh wait...that was just ME. I don't know if regulations have changed since last Summer, or perhaps there were stricter protocols because of the holiday weekend, or the recent attack in Istanbul, but they even made me take off my FitBit, which has never happened before.

However, we made it in plenty of time, and they even let Riley (and the rest of us) pre-board, to avoid being potentially flattened by the crush of humanity on a very full plane. (Was that dramatic? Did I mention I'm tired?) Oh, except I didn't get on with the boys--I took a few extra minutes to stand in line at Starbucks for my long-overdue java fix. Then we were treated to possibly one of the quietest flights I've ever enjoyed (No lie--nary a peep from any of the numerous children we'd seen at the gate...who remained completely undetectable for the duration of the 3-1/4 hour trip. Little angels, all of them...thank the friendly sky gods...I offer up my complimentary, miniscule packet of snacks-I-can't-eat as a tribute...)

Then...Denver. Let's just say it was the "less pleasing" leg of our trip. It started when the jetway's wheels got stuck before it reached our aircraft, so they couldn't allow us to exit. We sat for quite some time while they tried to get this worked out (including, apparently, calling in an engineer whose job it is to help maintain this equipment). Eventually the pilot sheepishly announced that we'd have to move to another gate. All of this was taking precious minutes away from accomplishing the truly critical goal: eating some real food before having to embark on our next flight. As luck would have it--or...NOT--the Denver to Seattle portion of our journey was delayed by some vague "mechanical issue" that prevented us from leaving on-time.

Meanwhile we were equally horrified and fascinated by a toddler who threw the mother of all tantrums in the interim. I mean, ear-splitting shrieks, fountains of tears, rolling on the ground. I sort of nicknamed him...Demon Spawn...under my breath...and wouldn't you know, he was sitting DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM ME once we got situated. But...guess what? He must have gotten it all out of his system, because he was perfectly well-behaved  on the plane. Sure, his mother let him play games on her phone the entire time...and kept feeding him M&Ms....but trust me, to the rest of the passengers, this counted as AWESOME parenting in this particular case.

Next we landed in Seattle (yay!) and found our way to the rental car outpost. I'd reserved a "full-size" model, but we were slightly confused when the nice employee pointed us toward the section we needed and said what sounded suspiciously like, "Pick the one you want, and you're good to go." I'm sorry...what? We get to choose? Now picture the Male Posse, wandering up and down the aisles like the proverbial kids in a candy store...with me following behind, going "NO! We may NOT take the Mercedes!" We settled on a lovely, practical...Hyundai Sonata. But you would have thought it was a luxury car, the way the boys oohed and aahed over the back seat--"It's HUGE! We have cupholders! It's soooo comfy!" (Yep, easily amused, they are...)

Moving on, our first order of business in the borrowed wheels was to locate our hotel, which proved quite simple, since I'd purposely booked one close to the airport, for convenience sake. (And incidentally, it's a darn good thing this wasn't complicated, as we'd now been up for about 12 hours...and counting...) Once ensconced in our room, the serious task of choosing a dining option commenced in earnest. Yes, we felt a little silly--like 80-year old Early Bird Special seekers--since it was all of 4 p.m. and we were starving for dinner...but lunch (such as it was) had been in a whole other state...and time zone...so what can you do?

However...it took a bit of...creative negotiating...to home in on a viable restaurant. Not surprisingly, there are plenty of seafood eateries--probably highlighting local, fresh-caught offerings--but, um "vegetarian". So Husband looked up menus on his phone, and would call out items he thought I'd like: "Spinach salad with oranges!" (can't have citrus); "Stir fried veggies with soy sauce!" (nope, no soy); "Portabella burger!" (only if it's a gluten-free bun); "How about fries?" (not allowed white potatoes, only sweet potatoes); "Veggie tacos!" (no tomatoes...peppers...corn...or cheese). Finally he hit upon a nearby joint called Sharps Roasthouse, where there was a salad that was more or less acceptable, ingredient-wise, to my current restrictive eating rules (and it ended up being yummy, so it was all good in the end).

Even though he'd just been fed, Derek was still concerned that, because it was so early in the evening, he'd need another snack before turning in for the night. (I'll concede that this is a fair point for a teenage boy...) So we visited a grocery store and foraged for stuff we could keep in our hotel room. (For me, gluten-free cinnamon raisin bread and almond milk...and Clif bars, Planter's nut packs, pretzels, and Gatorade for the men-folk.) And if you need an illustration to show you just how loopy Derek was from his exhausting day of gallivanting across the country: as we were carrying the provisions up to our room with the boxes precariously stacked, he almost dropped one, and exclaimed, "My nuts keep threatening to fall off!" (Then cackled at his own joke...sigh...)

Finally, we're ending Day 1 of the Seattle Sojourn by doing something totally exciting, really scintillating...watching the Orioles vs Mariners baseball game on TV. Hey, we don't get Os coverage anymore in North Carolina, so this is actually pretty cool! Not to mention relaxing. And we need some sleeeeep before we hit the ground running tomorrow for our first official day as Pacific Northwest tourists. So, peace out for now...East and West Coasts!