Redrum

We just came back from a few days in VT.  Now, I feel I need to add a disclaimer at the beginning of this post.  I have nothing against VT.  It is beautiful country up that way and there are some very nice towns to hang out in.  If you're a skier, VT is probably a favorite haven for you in this part of the world.  If you're not a skier (which I am not), then you have visions of hiking, biking, kayaking, and all other kinds of glamorous outdoorsy activities.  If you're sick of the city, then you may also have visions of escaping to the mountains for some R&R.  I'd like to say I am one of those people with visions of hiking, biking, and kayaking, but the fact that I haven't seen my gym since I joined it and that I can't swim pretty much leaves me in the latter category of wanting some R&R.  Yeah.  That's definitely me.  R&R.  You know, maybe take a nice stroll down the street, check out some local shops...aaahhh.

The reason we were taking this trip is that we had won the use of a condo for a week in a silent auction at our church earlier in the year.  The condo was located right on Mt. Okemo and, for that reason, we could only access it during spring or summer months...so, it was a last hurrah before heading back into the school year.  The condo was pretty big and had a kitchen, access to a swimming pool, tennis courts, and a sauna.  The owner said only about 90% of the condos get rented in the summer, so we would pretty much be on our own up there.  It did not have air conditioning, but who cares?  It's on a mountain in VT.  How hot could it get?  So, we did our grocery shopping for the week, packed our bathing suits, and headed North!!

The drive was quick (only about 2.5 hours from our home) and it was pretty.  We followed the directions we had and drove up to the condo which, as I mentioned, was right on the mountain.  What this meant was that I was pushing our car as hard as I could and we were still maxing out at a whopping 25 mph as we went up the hill.  Finally, after coming very close to pulling a Fred Flinstone and using my feet to add some extra power to the car, we arrived at the unit we were going to be using.  The place was really very nice - 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, 2 living rooms, a dining room, a kitchen, a deck, and a sauna.  And, just as the owner had said, there was no one else around.  "Oh man!" I thought, "This is really going to be great!"  Nicole and I unpacked the car, picked the room we wanted to use, and took a drive around the area to see what was around.  What we found on the drive was this: the entrance to Okemo was only about 1 mile from where we were (and there was a beer fest going on that night.  Normally, that would have made my week right there, but it was pretty close to RM's bedtime, so we decided it probably wasn't worth the $20 admission for only a little while), there was an Irish bar close by, a place called Taco Taco, a quilt shop that Nicole wanted to visit, and...and, uh,...well, that was really about it.  "Ok, don't panic" is what flashed in my head as I quickly fired up my iPhone to look up what there was to do in this part of VT.  Now, the fact that even Google couldn't point me in the direction of an activity was a little disorienting, but I figured it was only the first night and we would figure out what there was to do.  With that, we headed back to the condo, unpacked, made dinner, and settled in for the night.  Started watching t.v. and realized this place only had the "essential" cable package.  Translation = you can watch what's on the networks, but don't look for any quality programming.  Oh crap.

The next day, Nicole's sister, Jessica, and nephew, Owen, came up, as well as our friends Cara and Marc.  Now, since people were arriving at different times, we decided to hange close by to be sure we'd be home when people arrived.  Jessica and Owen arrived around 1ish and Cara and Marc arrived closer to dinner, so we planned a nice meal, people settled into their rooms, and we played some games for the evening.  Monday, we decided to head over to a town called Weston where we heard there was some nice shopping to be done and we figured this would be a nice way to spend the afternoon.  So, when we got there, I learned that my definition of "nice shopping" is vastly different then the people who had pointed us in this direction because there was pretty much the VT Country Store, a shop full of Christmas tree ornaments, and a type of general store.  That's it.  That's the extensive list of shops.  No.  You didn't miss anything and I didn't forget any.  That's what's there.  Being overwhelmed as we were as to how to tackle this vast shopping Mecca, we started with the VT Country Store which, in all honesty, was a really cool place.  Now, as many of you know, I don't like shopping unless there's food involved.  That being said, I LOVED this place.  There was a whole room dedicated to cheese and another section dedicated to dips.  My dear friend, Cara, and I were on high alert to make sure that we hit all of the sundries available for sampling in the store and we quickly became seasoned critics describing each taste that hit our palates and making sure we "cleansed" with appropriate free snacks before moving on to other flavors.  It was a nice place and I stocked up on the sundries which we had decided were good enough to take home and enjoy during our evening games.

Next stop was the store with all of the Christmas tree ornaments, but that was really uneventful, so I'll spare you the details.  In other words, there were no snacks there.

Our third, and final stop, was the little general store that had some clothing, little souvenir type things, and more free food.  But, don't get excited by the free food thing because, believe it or not, that was NOT the most awesome thing in this store.  The most awesome thing was one of those experiences that catches you completely off guard and one of those things that leaves you completely speechless.  This is what happened.  I was strolling through the store using my super senses to locate and consume the free food that was advertised at the door when I turned the corner into a small hallway and that's when it happened.  I saw something I thought I would never ever see in my lifetime and I am completely confident I will not be able to do it justice here with my meager words.  I turned the corner and saw a woman, roughly my height and maybe slightly older than myself, carrying a dog.  Now, her dog didn't seem like any particularly special breed - he (I think it was a he) was a small dog (maybe 10 lbs) with black and white spots.  In and of itself, that wouldn't have been that weird, but that's not the end of the story.  You see, she was carrying this dog by holding him in her arms in such a way that the dog was sitting on his bum, in an upright position, facing outward so that I had a clear shot of his chest.  Well, I didn't really have a clear shot of his chest because, you see, he was wearing a shirt.  Now, I wish I could describe what this shirt looked like, but I really can't because I was distracted by the designer sunglasses that the dog was wearing along with the blingy string from his glasses that dangled around his neck.  I'm pretty sure he was also wearing a gold chain, but that might be my brain having some fun with this memory.  In any case, when I saw this dog, I kind of froze for a second because of the sheer attitude that he was emanating.  I'm pretty sure that if this dog could speak, he would have said, "What the hell are you looking at, Be-atch?!  Get me a Double Doggie Latte and pick me up some cheese from across the street.  NOW!"  As the dog was giving me the stink eye, his owner turns to RM and says (in a thick French accent), "It's a dog.  It's a dog".  Thanks for the confirmation, lady.  I sat there, dumbfounded...speechless.  As the lady walked by holding the gay animal equivalent of Martha Stewart, I quickly spun back around to find Cara who, I saw, was equally mesmerized by the dog.

I quickly figured out what must have been the situation with this dog.  I mean, the lady carrying him, the attitude, the glasses...it was all making sense to me now.  Obviously he was blind and she was his seeing eye person.  How nice of her to care for her poor blind dog.  What kind of training do you need to be a seeing eye person?  Are there schools for that?  Does the dog use a cane when his seeing eye person is sleeping or something?  Can I address the person when she is on duty?  Are you supposed to give her treats or beers or something when not in service?  Maybe the dog wasn't completely blind.  Maybe he had cataracts and that's why he was wearing those glasses.  No, that couldn't be.  The glasses were not the ancient forerunners to blue blockers that every senior citizen with cataracts uses.  You know what glasses I mean...they are like the deepest black you've ever seen and they have walls on either side of them that have immensely powerful force fields built in that serve to block any and all sunlight from coming anywhere near the wearer's head.  Clearly, this dog was not wearing anything like that, so he did not have cataracts.  Obviously.  Anyway, this poor blind dog was the perhaps the single most amazing and ridiculously absurd thing I have ever seen.  I have continuously kicked myself in my patookus every day since that encounter for not taking a picture of this poor, blind animal.  If anyone out there has ever seen this creature or if any of you ever come in contact with him in the future, please snap a photo of him and contact me immediately.

Ok, back to our story.  Our shopping excursion...that's where we left off, yes?  After our dog encounter, we had pretty much hit all of the shopping this Mecca had to offer, so we decided to head back to the homestead.  By the time we got back, it was probably, oh, I don't know...Noon.  Hmmmm....now what to do?  We sat on our buttocks a bit and decided to give the pool a shot.  So, we suited up and headed down the immense hill and arrived at our destination...the pool.  Not a soul around...except for the massive colony of gnats that quickly figured out we were fresh meat.  Needless to say, we only lasted at the pool for about 45 minutes before we had to move on from the bug buffet where we were the main courses.  Even poor little RM had little specks of blood all over her head from the buffet.  Sorry, sweetie.  Ok, back to the condo.

I have an idea.  Let's play some games.  Movies.  Books?  Uh, maybe some games?

Tuesday.  Nicole and Jess head out to a quilt shop (I'll pass on that one, thanks).  Cara and Marc head out for a hike.  Owen, RM, and myself hang out at the condo.  Ok.  This is ok.  It's a nice day today.  No rain, like predicted, but also nothing to do.  Go for a walk?  I don't think I am experienced enough as a rock climber to walk around this neighborhood.  Go to the pool?  Our collective blood supply had not replenished enough to revisit the vampire section of the complex.   A movie?  Well, we know how RM does with that and Owen had already watched the only movie available in the Red Box that was appropriate for a 9 year old.  Crap.  Hey!  How about a game?  No?  Ok.  Hmmm....I would have blogged, but there was no internet access at the condo.

Have you ever seen "The Shining" with Jack Nicholson?  It's a movie about a guy who takes a job as a caretaker for the winter months at a mountainside resort.  He takes his family up there and figures he'll use the opportunity to write, only the family becomes snow bound and have no access to the outside world.  Oh, and did I mention, the place is haunted.  Well, I was starting to have the sensation that I was in this movie: mountainside resort, no one else around, nothing to do...all work and no play makes Jen go a little woohoo.

Wednesday.  This is the day that everyone is scheduled to head back home...everyone except me, Nicole, and RM.  Cara and Marc left around Noonish while Jess left around 4 after a short trip to a state park.  By 4:15, Nicole and I were all alone in the condo...hell, in the complex...and desperately trying to figure out what to do for the next two days.  Well, there's a brewery about 30 minutes away.  Yeah, but what are we going to do with RM at a brewery?  Ok.  Ben and Jerry's is about 90 minutes away.  I don't think RM will tolerate that ride for an ice cream.  We sat around for a bit longer unsuccessfully kicking ideas around until......

It was probably around 5:20 that night when we both looked at each other and said, "Have you had enough?".  We were packed and in the car by 6:45 and homeword bound.  Now, does this horribly failed trip mean that Nicole and I are unable to spend time together alone?  I don't think that's what it means at all.  In fact, I think it means that we both love each other enough to realize when to cut our losses and, if we're going to sit around and do nothing, we may as well do it on our own couches.

Loan sharks...they're gonna get ya!

Has anyone ever played the game Apples to Apples?  If you haven't, I highly recommend it.  If you have, then you might be able to relate to this post.  The way you play the game is that people take turns being "the judge" and that judge puts down a card with a word on it.  The other players have other cards with various words on them and each players is required to put down a card from their hand that they feel best fits with the word played by the judge.  Each player then has the opportunity to make an argument as to why their word is best suited to the judge's word.  For example, let's say the judge's word was "creative" and someone threw down a card that said "Picasso" while another threw down one that said "Pizza".  Each player then has to argue why they believe their word best fits with "creative" and the judge has the final decision as to who wins.  Everyone get it?  Too bad if you don't cuz we're moving on!

While on vacation with my friends, we were playing this game and, while it was fun, it was a bit heated at times.  You see, we're quite a competitive group.  Essentially, we're the people who won't let our kids beat us at checkers unless they've actually earned it (well, maybe not all of my friends are that way; maybe that's just me...whatever).  Anyway, we're playing this game and I noticed an interesting phenomenon that started to develop, particularly when people did not have very good words to choose from in their hands.  Essentially, what starting happening was that people simply started using their word in a defining sentence with the judge's word.  So, for example, let's say the word was "jovial" and someone put down "bone spurs".  Now, in my world, jovial and bone spurs don't go together at all, but you could actually hear people making an argument like, "You could be jovial if you had bone spurs"................huh?  (this was not an actual example used in the game.  If it had been, this blog entry would have been much shorter).

Needless to say, I did not share my observation with people about what was happening for a while because I was enjoying it and, we were playing with two of the oldest children on the trip (who are around 8 and 9) and I figured out that if you I used some of the words that were included in the definition listed on the judge's card in my argument for my own chosen card, I could sway the children's decision about 50% of the time.  What?  Like you wouldn't do the same.  Don't judge me.  It worked....did I mention that I'm competitive? 

I let the game go on for a bit with my little observations tucked in my head until it happened.  A card was played that pushed me right over the edge and I had to simply point out the absurdity of what I was hearing.  We are sitting at our table, playing our game and the judge's card was thrown: Dangerous.  Now, people started throwing out things that could be dangerous (I wish I could remember some examples, but they all escape me now).  Finally, it comes to my beloved Nicole's turn and she throws down "Loan Sharks".  Ok.  Granted, I can see where getting involved with loan sharks could be dangerous on some level and an argument could definitely be made.  However, when it came to  her turn to defend her selection, her response was, "Loan sharks!  They're gonna get ya!" and she leans in across the table closer to the judge as if this was some intimidating gesture that was going to sway the vote.  Now, in hindsight, the situation was maybe not incredibly absurd, but...well...we come back to my competitive side.  I believe my response started with uncontrolled and exaggerated laughter followed by a "What?!?!  Did you just say, 'They're gonna get ya?'  Is that really your argument?"  Then I started making up my own sentences to go with that ending..."Disney Princesses!  They're gonna get ya!...Unicorns!  They're gonna get ya!...Bunions!  They're gonna get ya!"  Thankfully, Nicole has an excellent sense of humor and laughed along with me because, quite honestly, had the roles been reversed...I may have become as dangerous as.....as dangerous as.....well, I guess as dangerous as a loan shark. 

Vacation! Vacation! Vacation!

Yay!!!!!!  Vacation!!!!!  Last week, me and the girls had the week off from work and went on vacation to spend some time with family and friends.  Here was the plan: leave Saturday early afternoon and head up to Narragansett to spend some time with some of my oldest and dearest friends.  Then, on Wednesday, head up to Maine to spend time with Nicole's family.  To prepare for our trip, I typed up packing lists on the computer for each member of the family, prepared the dogs's bags for their vacations (thanks, Mom and Dad, and AnnaMaria and Chris for watching those girls!!), got all of my clothes laid out, and took RM and Ella down to Danbury on Friday night while Nicole was going to stay home and pack in a child free/dog free home.  Sounds like a great plan, right?  Well, when I got to Danbury, I called Nicole to let her know I was going to have dinner with the folks and she let me know that she was not feeling well and had not done any packing because she had been sick (she even sent me a text message of her reincarnated dinner as proof...yeah...gross).  So, when I got home, nothing had been packed and we were further away from being ready for the trip now because there was all the disarray that comes with someone who is sick. 
So, Saturday morning, I get up early and start collecting up RM's things and getting the things out of the garage we are going to need for the trip: beach umbrellas (2), beach chairs (3 - yes, 3), cooler, beach blanket, beach toys...holy crap that's a lot of stuff.  Anyway, I get that all squared away and I prepare to take RM to a birthday party for one of her friends from daycare.  The party was at a public park with a little water sprinkler area that was very cute.  I thought, "Oh!  She's going to love this!"...Not so much.  She liked the idea of looking at the water and running around areas where water could potentially land (perhaps if we were experiencing hurricane gusts), but not so much getting wet.  It was a nice time there anyway and she really enjoyed playing with her friends.  "She's so cute playing with her friends.  She's going to love playing at the beach...wait...what time is it?!?!  Crap!"  Yes.  That's what happened in my head.  I was now about an hour behind schedule...the schedule I set up for myself...the schedule that no one else cared about, but me...and now I was behind.  DAMN!  Strike One.  Ok, no problem.  Let's go get Nicole and we'll be on our way.  So, we say our goodbyes and head home to get Nicole and load up the car. 

Now, for those of you with small children who have ever been brave enough to venture out on a trip with them, you know that they have more luggage than all the Kardashians put together.  It's no wonder that so many people with kids have minivans.  You need a freaking tractor trailer just to cart the kids's crap around.  I swear I'm going to go to one of those tractor trailer training programs they advertise on t.v. just to make sure we have enough room for all of our crap on our next trip.  Let me give you a brief list of the crap that we had to bring because of our beautiful daughter: pack and play (we all need her to have her own area to sleep in order that we may preserve our sanity), stroller, beach chair (because she confiscates mine, so I decided to get her her own chair so the little punk won't relegate me to sitting in the sand...I hate sitting in the sand...it gets everywhere...You know what I mean....EVERYWHERE!  It doesn't matter if it's dry or wet or whatever.  However, it does matter if it's dry or wet when it burns the layers of skin off the bottom of your feet and then, for extra enjoyment, the grains of sand stick to the newly exposed and extremely painful flesh on the bottom of your feet.  Especially the little bits of skin right under your toes...And it always feels like there are little bugs in the sand waiting to bite you or crawl up your suit and bite you square in the ass and you can't really scratch it because of what you'll look like to other people on the beach even though those other people would probably be thinking, "That poor woman had to sit in the sand.  She should have brought a chair for herself".......Good thing we're going to the beach for a week...), beach toys (to help facilitate the placement of sand everywhere on both her and me), diapers, swimmy diapers (which, by the way, apparently only become fully functional after they have gotten wet), beach towels, hats, sunglasses (yes.  She needs her own pair of these also...please don't get me started), and at least two changes of clothes each day.  Now, that's just some of her stuff.  However, I also need to bring extra clothes for myself because if she gets sick, and I'm anywhere within vomit range, I'm going to need to change.  That lesson, again, I learned the hard way and I was a slooooowwww learner...but now I've got it.

Sorry, I got a little lost in that last paragraph.  So, we finally got the car packed up and got on the road (later than I wanted, but still ok).  We needed to make a pit stop at Nicole's parents's house, but that was not bad either.  Finally, on our way to Narragansett.  One reason I was so excited to go and really wanted to get an early start was because I was going to be spending the next few days with friends that I hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with now, but had spent almost every day of my drinking years in Danbury with (and some were friends well before that).  In particular, my oldest and dearest friend, Cristina, was here from New Zealand with her family and I was very, very excited to be able to spend some time.  Needless to say, I was excited.  Did I mention that?  We got to our friend's house, unpacked and spent the next few days hanging out.  There were about 11 adults and 8 kids at one time and it was a pretty good party.  The kids had fun at the beach, RM again liked the idea of the water, but not really the idea of getting wet.  She was perfectly content to have me dig a hole and let that fill with water and sit in that...damn sand.  At the beginning of the trip, everything was great.  We were all so happy to see each other and hang out that the little annoying things that people did, didn't really matter...but, as the days went on, you could feel the tension building.  By the time we left to head up to Maine on Wednesday, I was sad to say goodbye to my friends, but I was also pretty sure that I was about to miss a heavyweight title fight reminiscent of Tyson v. Holyfield...damn.  I'd gladly sit on the sand to watch that one.

Ok, pack up the car and head north!  Vacation part deux.  Now, when we left Narragansett, RM was particularly tired and needy.  I chalked it up to her being out of her routine and being around a lot of people that she's not used to spending time with (which is an idea that makes me a bit sad inside), but I looked on the bright side and figured she would sleep in the car on the way up and that would make the ride go a bit more smoothly.  Well, I was mostly right in that she did sleep on the car ride up, but her demeanor did not improve.  In fact, she started to have a fever, was quite cranky, and was a drooling mess.  So, if you do the math: low grade fever + drooling + cranky = teething.  No problem.  We got this.  Next day...more cranky + higher fever + no food + no playing at the beach = misery...for all and for none a good night.  By dinner time on Thursday, RM was not doing anything other than screaming incessantly.   After a bit of discussion and some ibuprofen for her and drinks for us, we decided we needed to find a doctor.  Nicole walked down to the management office and asked where we could find a walk in clinic.  The response, "We don't have one around here.  We tried the Quick Quack thing and it didn't work out.  You need to head a few towns over to the hospital and they have an urgent care clinic at the emergency room".  (Quick Quack.  Classic).  And so it was that RM had her second trip to the ER in her lifetime.

Now, I know that plenty of you out there have had somewhat less than pleasant experiences in ER waiting rooms and I was fully prepared to spend the majority of my remaining vacation sitting and waiting for a higher order Quick Quack.  We get there, walk in, and a plump, jovial security guard greets us at the door and takes down some basic info (name, phone number) and then directs us to a waiting room.  We get there and before we can even sit, we get called in to triage.  Have you ever tried to get an oxygen reading on a screaming 18 month old who is clearly not feeling well?  No?  Yeah.  There's a reason for that...Sick kids don't like it.  Long story short, her lungs were working very, very well.  Essentially, the nurse gave up trying to get a read and sent us to another waiting room.  Again, before we could get comfortable, we got called to another desk to get intake information (i.e. Show me the money...and your insurance card).  A few minutes later, we get called in to an exam room and the doc comes in within a few minutes.
Doc: "What's the problem?"
Me: "Well, my money's on an ear infection in the right ear"
Doc: "Ok, let's take a look (you know, like they say in the GE commercials)".  Looks in left ear and says, "Well, that one's irritated.  That could be the problem".  Looks in the right ear and..."Oooohhhh.  Yeah.  That one's pretty bad.  Looks like they're both infected".  (Really?  That's awesome.  Thanks for playing.)  He gives her some meds and sends us on our way.

We went back home, put her to bed, and hoped for the best.  Yeah.  That hope would be what I would call Strike Two.  And here's why: At about 1:30 am, RM starts screaming...and screaming...and screaming...and...screaming.  Nicole and I took turns walking her around, taking her out on the patio, reading books to her...screaming.  Finally, at 3:30 I turn to Nicole and say, "That's it!  I'm taking her for a drive!"  Now, while I love my wife dearly, she does not function well on a lack of sleep.  Her response was, "You're not going anywhere!  The only people on the road at this time of night are drunk from being out at bars! "  Pace, pace, pace.  Scream, scream, scream.  "Nicole, let me try to take her for a drive".  "No.  We should just go home."  So, that's the part where I started to do that kind of screaming that you do while still whispering.  Do you know what I mean?  You are yelling, but in a whisper.  You know you are trying to do it right now while you're reading this.  Ok, now that you have it, that's what I was doing.  Me (in a whisper yell): "ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO DRIVE DOWN THE STREET BUT YOU WOULD DRIVE BACK TO CT RIGHT NOW?!?!?!?"  Now, something must have snapped for her then because she started to get ready to come with me (without our luggage) and, wouldn't it figure that as soon as I started to walk down the stairs, RM stopped screaming.  As we got outside, she actually looked content.  I strapped her in her car seat and, by the time I made it to the driver's seat, she was asleep.  Yes....that's what I said.  Asleep.  So, Nicole and I slept in the car and of all the crap we packed, we did not pack anything that could possibly have made that night's sleep (or lack thereof) pleasant.  Like I said before...Strike Two.

So, that brings us to Friday.  Last day at the beach.  Can you guess what happened?  Yes.  That's right.  It rained.  Now, I know what you're thinking...Strike Three.  Really?  You're a glass half empty kind of person?  Really?  Come on.  Yeah, it rained, but it was still vacation which meant I wasn't at work.  And that, my friends, is at least making it to first after being hit by the pitch.