Hey, there--long time, no...type! Which represents something of a personal struggle for me, because whenever it's been a while since I've created a post, I start to get...twitchy. As the days go by without me being able to come up with a funny story worth sharing, or an interesting adventure to recount, I start to feel certain things bubbling to the surface: stress ("I should be writing something!"), guilt ("I'm letting people down!"), and eventually, a dollop of panic ("What if I just don't have anything to say anymore--forever?" All delivered with steadily increasing amounts of dramatic sighing and tortured self-pity. Okay...not really--but I'm trying to paint a picture here, so just go with it, yeah?)
Now, of course the logical part of my brain (however small and sheltered it may be) recognizes that this is patently ridiculous. After all, this isn't my livelihood, so no one's starving if I come down with a case of Writer's Block. And I'm not delusional enough to believe that anyone's out there anxiously waiting to hang upon my every word, for sure. Furthermore, I recognize that it's probably a holdover from my decades of schooling, where my...perfectionistic tendencies...were born, nurtured, and solidified into an integral part of my personality (which it's faaarrrr too late to modify at this point in my life). Still...I can't quite shake off the idea that I'm somehow--I don't know...failing, maybe?--in my "duties"...or whatever.
And then, as the final days of the month bore down on me, increasing the...let's go ahead and call it mental anguish, for the sake of argument....as though I had an actual deadline to meet, rather than a self-imposed, arbitrary "quota", it suddenly hit me in a flash of clarity: it's just...JANUARY. That long, frosty, dark period after the fun and festivity of the holidays, when nothing much happens, and the prevailing mood leans toward the...blah. So yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and blame the calendar for stealing my missing spark. ('Cuz that seems like a totally healthy, mature way to address it, right?)
Speaking of which, I looked back on the past 4 weeks' activities, just for research purposes, to see if I was, you know, making stuff up (as I have been known to do on occasion...wink wink...). So, here's what commanded the attention of Team WestEnders in the first merry month of 2019:
--We drove back from our Maryland visit, and took another quiet day at home day to recover from all the celebration mayhem. (And so begins the list of Boring but Necessary Life Activities...you've been warned...)
--I employed a handyman to install the new over-the-stove microwave we had to purchase, after the one that came with the house died abruptly...but not entirely unexpectedly, when we checked the sticker and discovered it was manufactured in 1998! (RIP after a long life, well-lived, ye olde GE...).
(Side note: I felt much less lame about hiring a professional to do this, rather than tackling it ourselves, since it took him several hours, including what appeared to be some pretty technical reconfiguring of wiring and general fiddling about with the cabinet structure--all of which falls well beyond Husband's and/or my basic DIY skills! Besides, this reinforces my policy about when to assign tasks to a contractor: if it could cause a fire or a flood, get an electrician or a plumber in here to address the issue!)
--My job search continued, with one interview and several back-and-forth inquiries with other companies, none of which felt like quite the right fit. Thus, still looking...
--In the Caring for Self and Others category (which I just coined; feel free to use it), I accompanied the boys for their 6-month dentist visits...scheduled my own haircut appointment...and defied the early-morning frigid Great Outdoors by attending my regular Sunday bootcamp group. (Whoo hoo! Look, I TOLD you it was mundane, didn't I? Still with me? Moving on...)
--Classes recommenced for Riley after his 2-week break. Then Husband drove Derek back to South Carolina, first to have a short visit with the grandparents, then to return to UofSC for the Spring semester. Suddenly the house was quiet and empty...which did nothing to dispel the dreaded Winter Doldrums, I'm tellin' ya...
--However, I took time out of a dull weekday to catch a showing of Mary Poppins Returns...which proved to be a peppy, uplifting interlude of whimsy...and a lovely antidote to all the prevailing January...ness. And for a second dose of the artistic genius known as Lin-Manuel Miranda, I also signed up for this month's Pop-Up Chorus event...singing a trio of numbers from HAMILTON. Needless to say, it was a rousing, supremely entertaining, entirely satisfying way to spend an evening belting out exquisite songs...with 350 of your newest friends (and several fellow fitness pals from bootcamp, whom I'd enlisted to come with me!). What. A. Rush.
--Whew! Back to everyday household affairs: I'd arranged for Duke Energy (our electricity provider) to come out and perform a "residential audit", where they'd inspect the house, identify areas in which we might be operating in a less-than-optimal manner, and make suggestions for how to improve our usage (and therefore possibly decrease our bills). I know, right: riveting stuff. (Okay, nerd confession--I actually did find it fascinating to walk around with the examiner and hear her comments about the ways our home runs efficiently--quite a few, fortunately--and not so much...)
--Finally, Riley registered for a practice SAT...so he could have the privilege of getting up early on a weekend, and voluntarily subjecting himself to a 3-hour test. He decided to get a jump on this long before it would technically be required, so he could see his scores, figure out what weaknesses he needed to shore up, and be better prepared when it comes time to take the one that counts toward college admissions. Well, never let it be said that the dude isn't motivated...
And there you have it...January in a nutshell. As you can see, none of these little anecdotes warranted a full retelling on its own. But I see now that when you put them together, it does make me think we accomplished more than I originally gave us credit for, I suppose! Eh, howzabout we just chalk it up to...the vagaries of a month named for a two-faced Roman god...and kiss it buh-bye, 'kay? Alrighty, then...February, here we come! (And frankly, not a moment too soon, amiright?)
Tuesday, January 29, 2019
Friday, January 18, 2019
Epic fail, perhaps...but can I get an "A" for effort?
When I was in college, back in the...ahem..."olden days"...the process of obtaining one's textbooks each semester was arduous, time-consuming, and frankly, a downright pain in the...patootie. I mean, this was pre-cellphone, and before computers took over the world. (Yep, I TOLD you it'd been a hot minute!)
Therefore, the steps involved (as well as I can recall, after all these years): attending the first session of all the classes you were taking in order to collect the syllabi, then writing down the volumes required by each professor on an actual sheet of paper. (Right? Dark. Ages.) Next, you'd carry that order form to the physical bookstore on campus...where you'd stand in line with dozens or even hundreds of other students, for however long it freakin' took, until you reached the front, handed off your request, and received back a stack of materials. Ay yi yi. Suffice it to say that these do NOT represent fond memories for me of my post-secondary educational journey.
These days, of course, the situation is vastly different....which you'd imagine would also be a huge improvement, given the benefits of electronic communication, and the Internet, and whatnot. Well, I'm here to tell you that it's not that simple (or maybe, this being only our second stab at this thing, we're still somewhere on the learning curve. I'll let you be the judge...).
You see, one thing that unfortunately hasn't changed since way back when is the outlandish prices they charge for textbooks. Sure, there are now more options than there used to be...in theory, at least. But although the choices abound--such as "new" vs "used" tomes, ebooks, looseleaf versions, and rent-rather-than-purchase--some courses still demand nothing other than the most recent edition, which only exists in the "just-published, as expensive as possible" incarnation. As a parent footing the bill, it's absolutely maddening, I tell ya...
So, how do you handle this? Why, you check your beloved son's online booklist, note the (ridiculous) cost of each text, then do some comparison shopping to see if you can come up with a way to save a few bucks here and there, naturally! This seemed like a no-brainer, especially when we immediately scored a deal on Amazon, for his Calculus monstrosity. From there, however, the whole thing became somewhat...murkier. Because the other volumes he needed didn't seem to be available anywhere other than what appeared to be a consolidator-type website, which was unfamiliar to us, and thus felt...a wee bit risky.
But hey, we're nothing if not daring and adventurous (or, you know, "reckless and foolish", but whatever...), so we took a chance, placed an order with the dark horse company, and crossed our fingers that everything would work out. Yeeeeahhhh....about that. No sooner had I clicked "Submit" than I realized I'd made a fatal error: you know when you dutifully type in your credit card information, like you've done countless times before, and without stopping to give it a second thought, because it's what you always do, you automatically click the box for "Yes, indeed, the shipping address is exactly the same, you betcha!"? Except in this particular instance, you want the package sent to your student's home-away-from-home, where it'll actually be useful? (Because heaven know, I'M not tackling his Chemistry homework, nothankyouverymuch...)
Like I said, luckily I noticed it the minute it happened...but it was after business hours, so I couldn't do much at the time, except shoot off an email to Customer Service, and hope they'd be on-the-ball and fix it for me right away. The next morning, though, I was feeling nervous enough to also reach out by phone--but their recorded message indicated that they weren't able to handle calls at the moment, due to it being an extremely busy time. So I resorted to the last possible method of contact: online chat... which resulted in a pleasant and helpful representative assuring me that she was able to successfully change the information.
Whew! Problem solved, right? You'd think so...that is, until I got the handy-dandy confirmation message that "Your order has left the warehouse...and is on its way...to Chapel Hill!" Aaaarrrghhh! Not only that, but the boxes would be arriving here on Derek's first day of classes, too late for me to turn around and send them to him. So, guess what we had to do? That's right--buy the damn things from the university's bookstore anyway, and suck it up to pay whatever they were charging. So much for shaving off a couple of Andrew Jacksons here and there...siiiighhhh...
When the rogue parcels were dropped on my doorstep (right on time, I might add) I once again got in touch with the company--this time to admit my mistake, beg their forgiveness...and humbly appeal to them NOT to subtract the (substantial) restocking fee from my refund. The kind gentleman to whom I spoke cleared up the shipping confusion by informing me that the original chat-lady had in fact updated the address as she'd promised...but between me placing the order at 7:45 p.m. and interacting with her early the next day, the books had already been packed up, labeled incorrectly, and whisked out of the warehouse in the wee hours of the night. (Huh. A rare case of "too efficient for their own good"? Or mine, anyway...)
Oh well--upon reflection, I still believe it was a solid plan...albeit poorly executed. However, we have definitely picked up some valuable insight into how we can improve the outcome next time, such as: start earlier...and double-check the destination! As an unforeseen plus, Derek received an up-close-and-personal peek into just how pricey college supplies can be, and afterwards he mused, "Hmmm...now I understand why all those small scholarships [the counseling department talks about] might be worth it. A thousand dollars here and there doesn't sound like much, but it sure would help with books every semester!"
Aaahhh, grasshopper, I'm pleased to hear you express this newfound understanding. Perhaps this means he'll actually apply himself to seeking out some of that extra moolah...BEFORE the next time we have to go through this rigmarole? One can dream...
Therefore, the steps involved (as well as I can recall, after all these years): attending the first session of all the classes you were taking in order to collect the syllabi, then writing down the volumes required by each professor on an actual sheet of paper. (Right? Dark. Ages.) Next, you'd carry that order form to the physical bookstore on campus...where you'd stand in line with dozens or even hundreds of other students, for however long it freakin' took, until you reached the front, handed off your request, and received back a stack of materials. Ay yi yi. Suffice it to say that these do NOT represent fond memories for me of my post-secondary educational journey.
These days, of course, the situation is vastly different....which you'd imagine would also be a huge improvement, given the benefits of electronic communication, and the Internet, and whatnot. Well, I'm here to tell you that it's not that simple (or maybe, this being only our second stab at this thing, we're still somewhere on the learning curve. I'll let you be the judge...).
You see, one thing that unfortunately hasn't changed since way back when is the outlandish prices they charge for textbooks. Sure, there are now more options than there used to be...in theory, at least. But although the choices abound--such as "new" vs "used" tomes, ebooks, looseleaf versions, and rent-rather-than-purchase--some courses still demand nothing other than the most recent edition, which only exists in the "just-published, as expensive as possible" incarnation. As a parent footing the bill, it's absolutely maddening, I tell ya...
So, how do you handle this? Why, you check your beloved son's online booklist, note the (ridiculous) cost of each text, then do some comparison shopping to see if you can come up with a way to save a few bucks here and there, naturally! This seemed like a no-brainer, especially when we immediately scored a deal on Amazon, for his Calculus monstrosity. From there, however, the whole thing became somewhat...murkier. Because the other volumes he needed didn't seem to be available anywhere other than what appeared to be a consolidator-type website, which was unfamiliar to us, and thus felt...a wee bit risky.
But hey, we're nothing if not daring and adventurous (or, you know, "reckless and foolish", but whatever...), so we took a chance, placed an order with the dark horse company, and crossed our fingers that everything would work out. Yeeeeahhhh....about that. No sooner had I clicked "Submit" than I realized I'd made a fatal error: you know when you dutifully type in your credit card information, like you've done countless times before, and without stopping to give it a second thought, because it's what you always do, you automatically click the box for "Yes, indeed, the shipping address is exactly the same, you betcha!"? Except in this particular instance, you want the package sent to your student's home-away-from-home, where it'll actually be useful? (Because heaven know, I'M not tackling his Chemistry homework, nothankyouverymuch...)
Like I said, luckily I noticed it the minute it happened...but it was after business hours, so I couldn't do much at the time, except shoot off an email to Customer Service, and hope they'd be on-the-ball and fix it for me right away. The next morning, though, I was feeling nervous enough to also reach out by phone--but their recorded message indicated that they weren't able to handle calls at the moment, due to it being an extremely busy time. So I resorted to the last possible method of contact: online chat... which resulted in a pleasant and helpful representative assuring me that she was able to successfully change the information.
Whew! Problem solved, right? You'd think so...that is, until I got the handy-dandy confirmation message that "Your order has left the warehouse...and is on its way...to Chapel Hill!" Aaaarrrghhh! Not only that, but the boxes would be arriving here on Derek's first day of classes, too late for me to turn around and send them to him. So, guess what we had to do? That's right--buy the damn things from the university's bookstore anyway, and suck it up to pay whatever they were charging. So much for shaving off a couple of Andrew Jacksons here and there...siiiighhhh...
When the rogue parcels were dropped on my doorstep (right on time, I might add) I once again got in touch with the company--this time to admit my mistake, beg their forgiveness...and humbly appeal to them NOT to subtract the (substantial) restocking fee from my refund. The kind gentleman to whom I spoke cleared up the shipping confusion by informing me that the original chat-lady had in fact updated the address as she'd promised...but between me placing the order at 7:45 p.m. and interacting with her early the next day, the books had already been packed up, labeled incorrectly, and whisked out of the warehouse in the wee hours of the night. (Huh. A rare case of "too efficient for their own good"? Or mine, anyway...)
Oh well--upon reflection, I still believe it was a solid plan...albeit poorly executed. However, we have definitely picked up some valuable insight into how we can improve the outcome next time, such as: start earlier...and double-check the destination! As an unforeseen plus, Derek received an up-close-and-personal peek into just how pricey college supplies can be, and afterwards he mused, "Hmmm...now I understand why all those small scholarships [the counseling department talks about] might be worth it. A thousand dollars here and there doesn't sound like much, but it sure would help with books every semester!"
Aaahhh, grasshopper, I'm pleased to hear you express this newfound understanding. Perhaps this means he'll actually apply himself to seeking out some of that extra moolah...BEFORE the next time we have to go through this rigmarole? One can dream...
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Well-fed guinea pigs--ahem..."loved ones"
Is anyone else out there like me: doesn't particularly enjoy preparing food myself...but gets a kick out of observing other people chef-ing it up on TV? Don't get me wrong--I've definitely expanded my culinary vocabulary, and picked up lots of useful tips from all the Food Network and Cooking Channel shows I've indulged in, whilst lounging on my sofa. Occasionally I even stumble upon a recipe I want to test out...such as last week on The Kitchen, when a guest presenter demonstrated how to make a dessert that I found both intriguing...and suspicious.
You see, she concocted a blondie-type cookie bar without using any flour at all, which of course rendered it gluten-free. I also noticed that--as an extra-special bonus for me--it didn't require any eggs. Which leads me to the "skeptical" part of the equation, because while it sounded (and looked) undeniably delicious, I couldn't quite understand how it held together without any apparent binding agent (outside of possibly...I don't know...faerie magic? Or what have you...).
Well, then...challenge accepted! So I proceeded to attempt a super-secret assembly behind closed doors, to prevent anyone from figuring out what was actually included in the dish. I knew the Male Trio's opinions would be irrevocably colored by knowing ahead of time what healthy components were hiding inside the sweets. I crossed my fingers that the more taste-forward and visually recognizable ingredients...namely peanut butter and chocolate chips...would do their jobs and adequately disguise the stealthy good-for-you qualities.
I even went so far as to throw away the one tell-tale can before anyone could see it, and I was feeling smugly satisfied that my complicated ruse had worked. That is, until Derek wandered into the kitchen, after I'd put the baking pan into the oven, and spotted the printed instructions. At that point I thought the jig was up for sure...but his gaze had fallen upon the title and he immediately fixated on that, exclaiming indignantly, "Orange and chamomile! I knew it was weird! Ewww!"
This was actually hilarious....since I'd also decided that those two items sounded odd and unnecessary, and I'd therefore purposely left them out! However, it was enormously difficult to convince my son that I was being truthful. (Apparently he has deep-seated and disturbing trust issues when it comes to me...and experimental edibles. Who knew? I guess we'll have to address that at some point...) Finally I snapped in exasperation, "Look around you. Do you see oranges? And have you EVER known me to zest....anything, for any reason? Or for that matter, to drink chamomile tea? Okay, then, there's your answer!"
Ay yi yi. He finally let that go, but then he declared that he wasn't trying it until I revealed exactly what was in there. And of course my response was, "Sure I'll tell you...after you have a bite." Ahhh, you see what we have here? I think this is what they refer to as a (slightly smaller version of a) Mexican Standoff, my friends: determined opponents, firmly dug into their positions, unprepared to compromise. Aaaannnnd that's how we arrived at dinner time--the only thing the fam knew for sure was that the dessert was free from both wheat and huevos.
I swear though, the stark trepidation on their faces made it seem like I was asking them to choke down crickets, or something. Heck, Riley even tried to avoid the whole scene by slipping up to his room the second he finished his meal, forcing me to drag him back down to join the...um...palate-expanding adventure. It was utterly ridiculous...and it became even more so when they just sat there staring at their innocent chocolate-chip laden squares, refusing to touch them until I demanded that they for heaven's sake just freakin' pick them up and take a nibble. (I even sarcastically offered to help by feeding them a forkful...making the "airplane" noise. Yes, like they're all FOUR year olds...)
Eventually they realized I wasn't going to give up (seriously, have they MET me?)...and agreed to all go in at the same time. (Big brave dudes, yeah?). And whattya know--not only did they survive...they admitted to being pleasantly surprised. (Granted, their expectations were abysmally low, but still, I'll take it...) Furthermore, Derek was curious enough to start trying to guess the mystery ingredient. "Spinach? Nah, I don't see any green. Carrots? Sweet potatoes?" After a few minutes of increasingly unlikely stabs in the dark, he concluded with, "Um...seaweed?"
I rescued him from further mental gymnastics...before he hurt himself during his vacation...by announcing that the super-food masquerading as a tasty treat was actually: CHICKPEAS. The guys proclaimed themselves suitably astonished...and impressed...and even graciously went so far as to concede that they were yummy...and no one would know about the beans unless you told them.
So, I still don't exactly understand the...alchemical process...that makes them successful. But I'm willing to let them remain somewhat of a riddle, because not only are they full of nutritious things, but they also passed the rigorous Team WestEnders Taste Test. I'm gonna have to call this a WIN, folks! (And as a matter of fact, I definitely deserve some kind of reward for all my efforts...so I should go have some, right now...)
You see, she concocted a blondie-type cookie bar without using any flour at all, which of course rendered it gluten-free. I also noticed that--as an extra-special bonus for me--it didn't require any eggs. Which leads me to the "skeptical" part of the equation, because while it sounded (and looked) undeniably delicious, I couldn't quite understand how it held together without any apparent binding agent (outside of possibly...I don't know...faerie magic? Or what have you...).
Well, then...challenge accepted! So I proceeded to attempt a super-secret assembly behind closed doors, to prevent anyone from figuring out what was actually included in the dish. I knew the Male Trio's opinions would be irrevocably colored by knowing ahead of time what healthy components were hiding inside the sweets. I crossed my fingers that the more taste-forward and visually recognizable ingredients...namely peanut butter and chocolate chips...would do their jobs and adequately disguise the stealthy good-for-you qualities.
I even went so far as to throw away the one tell-tale can before anyone could see it, and I was feeling smugly satisfied that my complicated ruse had worked. That is, until Derek wandered into the kitchen, after I'd put the baking pan into the oven, and spotted the printed instructions. At that point I thought the jig was up for sure...but his gaze had fallen upon the title and he immediately fixated on that, exclaiming indignantly, "Orange and chamomile! I knew it was weird! Ewww!"
This was actually hilarious....since I'd also decided that those two items sounded odd and unnecessary, and I'd therefore purposely left them out! However, it was enormously difficult to convince my son that I was being truthful. (Apparently he has deep-seated and disturbing trust issues when it comes to me...and experimental edibles. Who knew? I guess we'll have to address that at some point...) Finally I snapped in exasperation, "Look around you. Do you see oranges? And have you EVER known me to zest....anything, for any reason? Or for that matter, to drink chamomile tea? Okay, then, there's your answer!"
Ay yi yi. He finally let that go, but then he declared that he wasn't trying it until I revealed exactly what was in there. And of course my response was, "Sure I'll tell you...after you have a bite." Ahhh, you see what we have here? I think this is what they refer to as a (slightly smaller version of a) Mexican Standoff, my friends: determined opponents, firmly dug into their positions, unprepared to compromise. Aaaannnnd that's how we arrived at dinner time--the only thing the fam knew for sure was that the dessert was free from both wheat and huevos.
I swear though, the stark trepidation on their faces made it seem like I was asking them to choke down crickets, or something. Heck, Riley even tried to avoid the whole scene by slipping up to his room the second he finished his meal, forcing me to drag him back down to join the...um...palate-expanding adventure. It was utterly ridiculous...and it became even more so when they just sat there staring at their innocent chocolate-chip laden squares, refusing to touch them until I demanded that they for heaven's sake just freakin' pick them up and take a nibble. (I even sarcastically offered to help by feeding them a forkful...making the "airplane" noise. Yes, like they're all FOUR year olds...)
Eventually they realized I wasn't going to give up (seriously, have they MET me?)...and agreed to all go in at the same time. (Big brave dudes, yeah?). And whattya know--not only did they survive...they admitted to being pleasantly surprised. (Granted, their expectations were abysmally low, but still, I'll take it...) Furthermore, Derek was curious enough to start trying to guess the mystery ingredient. "Spinach? Nah, I don't see any green. Carrots? Sweet potatoes?" After a few minutes of increasingly unlikely stabs in the dark, he concluded with, "Um...seaweed?"I rescued him from further mental gymnastics...before he hurt himself during his vacation...by announcing that the super-food masquerading as a tasty treat was actually: CHICKPEAS. The guys proclaimed themselves suitably astonished...and impressed...and even graciously went so far as to concede that they were yummy...and no one would know about the beans unless you told them.
So, I still don't exactly understand the...alchemical process...that makes them successful. But I'm willing to let them remain somewhat of a riddle, because not only are they full of nutritious things, but they also passed the rigorous Team WestEnders Taste Test. I'm gonna have to call this a WIN, folks! (And as a matter of fact, I definitely deserve some kind of reward for all my efforts...so I should go have some, right now...)
Monday, January 7, 2019
O, Canada (watch out, here we come...eventually!)
First of all, let me wish everyone a happy 2019! In keeping with what has become a New Year's tradition in our house, Team WestEnders took some time over the boys' Winter Break to brainstorm ideas for our next big adventure. Well...that is, "I announced that it was time to think about a Summer trip, and the Male Posse gave me their award-winning blank, open-mouthed expressions while trying to formulate smartass comments".
But I've been at this long enough by now to expect such a reaction, so I was prepared to take control of the conversation, short-circuit the nonsense, and keep us on track. Therefore I knew better than to allow them time to get wound up; rather, I followed up immediately with "It's an international year, so I was thinking maybe....Dominican Republic?"
Surprisingly, this was met with an outburst of vehement rejection. Some of the responses included Riley's "Ugh. Aren't we DONE with tropical beaches?" (To which I simply must pause and reply: "I'm sorry, I recognize all of these words, but in this particular order, they don't make any sense to me whatsoever. And by the way, are we absolutely sure you're related to me? I mean c'mon...'tired of sea, sun, and sand'? I can't even...") Then there was Derek, who firmly stated that he intends to follow his own personal travel ban against the DR...when pressed for an explanation, he shrugged and added, "Eh, because it's...sketchy." (Pues, lo siento, Republica Dominicana. I tried...)
Ohhh-kaaaay, then. No amount of actual, you know, "facts" that I was able to present about the island--and its safety--were successful in swaying them to my side. So before they lost their focus, and I'd be forced to waste valuable time and energy wresting their attention back on topic, I moved on to Plan B, a radical departure in terms of geography, location, and climate: Vancouver, BC. I had various reasons for throwing it out there, some of which were: crossing the border into our friendly continental neighbor satisfies my every-other-year "must use passport" requirement; it seems like a cool city to explore; the weather should be a pleasant relief from the hot, drippy NC July; and there are abundant outdoor activities, including opportunities for hiking.
They were...let's go with "cautiously amenable" to this proposal--with the caveat that they wanted more information before committing to a week in the Great White North. Husband jumped right on that with admirable gusto, scouring the Internet for nature adventures in the surrounding area. Meanwhile, I took a low-tech approach and picked up a visitor's guide from Barnes & Noble, so we could all page through it for inspiration. And whattya know: in relatively short order, we came up with enough potentially interesting and/or exciting stuff to get everyone on board. Whew!
Now came the hard(er) part, which of course was figuring out the logistics of actually getting from here to there, and where to stay once we'd arrived. Husband talked to a coworker who grew up in that region and recently moved back, and he indicated that Vancouver is a popular Summer destination, which tends to make it crowded and expensive. So I felt some pressure to nail down at least the most important aspects of our excursion--namely airplane tickets and lodging--as soon as possible.
This led to a looooonnng day of computer clicking, as I fiddled with travel dates and flight options to try and find the happy intersection between A) an acceptable price, and B) sensible arrival, departure, and total travel times (6 a.m.? Nope. 3-hour layover in LAX? Uh-uh. 16 hours en route? Um....not a chance in...Hades!) Once I was satisfied that I'd procured the best deal I could under the circumstances, I turned my attention to the question of where we'd be sleeping during our Canadian quest.
This turned out to be an even more challenging undertaking, believe it or not, as I quickly discovered that Vancouver hotels seem to charge exorbitant rates during the tourist months. Furthermore, the places I would consider to be "within budget"...didn't appear to meet my minimum standards for quality, shall we say. (For example, besides one-star motels, there was the YMCA...or multiple youth hostels...which I used to frequent when I was young and single, for sure--but they wouldn't be the best solution for our family of 4!) And once you widened the net to include higher-end brands, it quickly spiraled into the $250-$400 per night range. Ouch! (Oh, and also: "no freakin' way, y'all"...)
Beginning to feel a tiny bit of desperation creeping in (not to mention, no small amount of fatigue by this point), I turned to Air B&B to take my chances with the mixed bag of listings you get for people's private rental properties. Lo and behold, after sifting through the virtual mountain of "too far", "too costly", "too small" offerings, I happened upon a lovely 2-bedroom, 1.5 bath townhome, available during our dates...and snatched it up (so to speak). Plus, we'll have our own kitchen, space to spread out, and a centralized HQ to use as a jumping-off point for all of our wanderings.
With some of those critical pieces settled (and after taking some deep, cleansing breaths to dispel the remainder of the lingering vacation-planning stress), Husband and I have begun marking up the guidebook with colorful sticky tabs on things that sound like entertaining places to go and things to do, and saving websites for later perusal and family discussion. But the best part is that we have 6 more months to hammer out the rest of the details. Whoo hoo--my work here is done (for now)!
But I've been at this long enough by now to expect such a reaction, so I was prepared to take control of the conversation, short-circuit the nonsense, and keep us on track. Therefore I knew better than to allow them time to get wound up; rather, I followed up immediately with "It's an international year, so I was thinking maybe....Dominican Republic?"
Surprisingly, this was met with an outburst of vehement rejection. Some of the responses included Riley's "Ugh. Aren't we DONE with tropical beaches?" (To which I simply must pause and reply: "I'm sorry, I recognize all of these words, but in this particular order, they don't make any sense to me whatsoever. And by the way, are we absolutely sure you're related to me? I mean c'mon...'tired of sea, sun, and sand'? I can't even...") Then there was Derek, who firmly stated that he intends to follow his own personal travel ban against the DR...when pressed for an explanation, he shrugged and added, "Eh, because it's...sketchy." (Pues, lo siento, Republica Dominicana. I tried...)
Ohhh-kaaaay, then. No amount of actual, you know, "facts" that I was able to present about the island--and its safety--were successful in swaying them to my side. So before they lost their focus, and I'd be forced to waste valuable time and energy wresting their attention back on topic, I moved on to Plan B, a radical departure in terms of geography, location, and climate: Vancouver, BC. I had various reasons for throwing it out there, some of which were: crossing the border into our friendly continental neighbor satisfies my every-other-year "must use passport" requirement; it seems like a cool city to explore; the weather should be a pleasant relief from the hot, drippy NC July; and there are abundant outdoor activities, including opportunities for hiking.
They were...let's go with "cautiously amenable" to this proposal--with the caveat that they wanted more information before committing to a week in the Great White North. Husband jumped right on that with admirable gusto, scouring the Internet for nature adventures in the surrounding area. Meanwhile, I took a low-tech approach and picked up a visitor's guide from Barnes & Noble, so we could all page through it for inspiration. And whattya know: in relatively short order, we came up with enough potentially interesting and/or exciting stuff to get everyone on board. Whew!
Now came the hard(er) part, which of course was figuring out the logistics of actually getting from here to there, and where to stay once we'd arrived. Husband talked to a coworker who grew up in that region and recently moved back, and he indicated that Vancouver is a popular Summer destination, which tends to make it crowded and expensive. So I felt some pressure to nail down at least the most important aspects of our excursion--namely airplane tickets and lodging--as soon as possible.
This led to a looooonnng day of computer clicking, as I fiddled with travel dates and flight options to try and find the happy intersection between A) an acceptable price, and B) sensible arrival, departure, and total travel times (6 a.m.? Nope. 3-hour layover in LAX? Uh-uh. 16 hours en route? Um....not a chance in...Hades!) Once I was satisfied that I'd procured the best deal I could under the circumstances, I turned my attention to the question of where we'd be sleeping during our Canadian quest.
This turned out to be an even more challenging undertaking, believe it or not, as I quickly discovered that Vancouver hotels seem to charge exorbitant rates during the tourist months. Furthermore, the places I would consider to be "within budget"...didn't appear to meet my minimum standards for quality, shall we say. (For example, besides one-star motels, there was the YMCA...or multiple youth hostels...which I used to frequent when I was young and single, for sure--but they wouldn't be the best solution for our family of 4!) And once you widened the net to include higher-end brands, it quickly spiraled into the $250-$400 per night range. Ouch! (Oh, and also: "no freakin' way, y'all"...)
Beginning to feel a tiny bit of desperation creeping in (not to mention, no small amount of fatigue by this point), I turned to Air B&B to take my chances with the mixed bag of listings you get for people's private rental properties. Lo and behold, after sifting through the virtual mountain of "too far", "too costly", "too small" offerings, I happened upon a lovely 2-bedroom, 1.5 bath townhome, available during our dates...and snatched it up (so to speak). Plus, we'll have our own kitchen, space to spread out, and a centralized HQ to use as a jumping-off point for all of our wanderings.
With some of those critical pieces settled (and after taking some deep, cleansing breaths to dispel the remainder of the lingering vacation-planning stress), Husband and I have begun marking up the guidebook with colorful sticky tabs on things that sound like entertaining places to go and things to do, and saving websites for later perusal and family discussion. But the best part is that we have 6 more months to hammer out the rest of the details. Whoo hoo--my work here is done (for now)!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
