En Why Cee

I had me some acelatheraphy last week. That's right: one trip to NYC via Acela. Wheee! It was a business trip mixed with some Nephew Lovin' and a brief visit with my brother and his bride. Here's a quick run-down of my 28 hours in the big city: 

This is acelatherapy in action. Nice seats, extra leg room, foot rests, curtains, and overhead compartments just like on a plane. It even smells good. Oh, and not crowded on this particular Wednesday morning, either. Score!

More bonus points awaited when I checked in to the hotel:

Ohmyluckystarsabove! This was my room. MINE! I felt so grown up and didn't want to leave. Oh my. Super comfy furniture, exquisite details, superior service, and an oh-so-mumfy bed. If you are ever in NYC and need to stay near Times Square, check this place out. You won't want to leave this slice of heaven on earth.

I couldn't resist just one more hotel picture. This leaded glass window was the backdrop for cocktail hour before dinner. Oh, and dinner...YUM!...Branzino "Saltimbocca" and heirloom tomato salad with a bit of chocolate tart and homemade vanilla gelato for dessert. (As I reach for the napkin to wipe away the drool...)

Yes, yes. The business part of the trip included a dinner at the hotel with 20 or so folks. Why not stay there as well? Natch.

My meetings the following morning were canceled so I found myself meandering down 5th Avenue for a while. Well, if you can call a walk from 53rd to 38th in summer heat a "meander."

And then over to the financial district:

I quickly discovered why it's called the financial district. One needs to have SeRiOuS finances to park there! 

Some lovin' and snuggles with this little dude were all free, though:

Argh! I was so busy providing some Crazy Aunt Jess love that I forgot to pick up the camera until the end. After a couple hours of hanging with me he was tie-erred! Aw.

Honestly, I was plum tuckered out, too. It had been a long 28 hours and I was anxious to get on the train and head home. Within minutes though I was scheming about how to get back to that hotel. Maybe TWO nights next time!

Fire trucks and Fins

Author's Note: the conversation below is an actual conversation between Pink and the Turkey that took place this evening. No names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. Drat.  

Turkey: Do you want to know why firetrucks are always red?


Me: Um. Sure? Wait. Haven't you told me this before? I can't remember. You KNOW I'm not good with jokes,

The Turkey cuts eyes towards his mom, tilts his head a smidge, and is silent. I hate the silent treatment.  

Me: But go ahead.

Turkey: So, 1 plus 1 is two, right?  

Hearing an affirmative mumble he went on...

Turkey: And 2 plus 2 is four, right? And since this is the third step, three times four is.... ?


Me: 12!  

Whew! I never know when the trick questions are coming my way so I was deliriously happy to know I got a serious math answer correct. Score! If I had only known how fast the bubble would burst... 


Turkey: And there are 12 inches in a ruler, right?

Me: Depends on what kind of ruler you're using. But, yes, the school rulers have 12 inches. Plus a tad.


Turkey: Smirking  And another ruler is a queen, right?

Me: Most of the time.

Turkey: Another ruler is Queen Elizabeth, right?


Me: Wellllllll, there have been two Queen Elizabeths. One was a ruler, yes, the other is just a monarch.  

I was feeling smart. Almost ready to appear on Are You Smarter Than A Third Grader. (Yeah. I know it's supposed to be fifth grade, but I'm so not ready for prime time yet.)

The Turkey is chuckling now. I think there was some head shaking here, but it was dark and I can't be sure. Heck, he could have been recording this whole thing with his iPod, in which case I'm YouTube toast.

Turkey:  The Queen Elizabeth was also a ship, and ships sail the seven seas.  

Then looking at his mother and clearly stating...

Turkey: MOST of the time.

Me: Well, yes, but there are some ships that sail in the bathtub and some in the Chesapeake Bay, not to mention the Gulf of Mexico which is not technically part of the Seven Seas, so let's get real and say ships just sail in the sea. Generic SEA. Mmm-kay?

Turkey: And there are fish in the seven seas, right? And fish have fins?  

Dang, he's persistent!

Me: Sometimes. Sometimes fish have fins.

Quick! Are there any fish that don't have fins? Sea creatures, yes; but what about fish? Argh!

Laughing Turkey: And the Fins fought the Russians, right?


Me: I dunno.

Hysterical Turkey: YES! World War Two! The Fins totally fought the Russians!  

More laughter. Why didn't he have a stomach ache by now?

Hysterical Turkey: And the Russians wore red, didn't they?


Me: I dunno.

Hysterical Turkey: Moooommmmmm! The RED army! They wore RED! And that's why fire trucks are red. They are always RUSHIN'!  

There was way too much triumph in the tone of his voice. I shook my head in the negative directions and quickly changed the subject. SKOR candy bars seemed like a safe topic. Grocery store. Tomorrow's list of things to do. Whew! Until he circled back to the Russians....

Turkey: So why were you confused at the end of the fire truck joke?

Me: It just didn't make sense. Why did you have to bring the Russians into this? I mean, what happened to the Confederates? They wore red.

This stopped him in his tracks. 

Turkey: No. No, they didn't. 


Me: Confederates! Yessss.... Oh, wait. No. I mean the Red Coats! Confederates were blues and grays. I was thinking about the British Red Coats. Those guys. With the red jackets. They wore red and their uniforms were a lot more fashionable than the Red Army. Duh!

At this point the Turkey lost it. If he was laughing before, he was cackling now. Then he was doubled over at the waist and slapping his knee. Did he really have to add those?  I mean, jokes about my age and something about being blonder than my highlights AND knee slaps? *Heavy sigh.* Wait! Maybe I could blame this on my new pink sparkly highlights? Now there's an idea!

He's baaaaaack!

Shake, rattle and roll

I was awake at 5am. I could hear a louder-than-usual train in the distance. Then then train whistle. Unusual. Hmmm? Changed positions, fluffed a pillow, hunkered down and pointed the internal compass toward Dreamland again. Somewhere in the mid-sleep mumble -- you know the one: it's the might-or-might-not-be-asleep-but-feel-oddly-somewhat-conscious phase -- I heard the cat jump up on the dresser. I knew it was the dresser because the jewelry and assorted perfume bottles and meds started rattling. Then a thud and a rumble as the cat jumped down.

Wait. We don't have a cat.

Huh? 

I was awake now. AWAKE!

I blinked a couple times and listened to see if the floorboards would creak but didn't want to move too much in case there was someone/something unexpected in the house. All was quiet. Very quiet. Hearing nothing more, I figured it wasn't a burglar, refluffed the pillow, rolled over, and happily went back to Dreamland. After all, maybe it was a squirrel playing a rough game of tag on the roof. Maybe? Or maybe my dreams were just super vivid and I imagined it. Maybe?

An hour or two later when I was awake for real (that second pillow fluffing worked great!) I learned it was not a cat. Not a squirrel. Not a burglar. Not even some part of a crazy dream, but a ... hold on to your hat ... it was an earthquake! Seriously! How cool is that?!

But if there ever IS an unexpected some one/thing in the house in the middle of the night ... sigh ... at this rate I would probably offer him or her a cold beverage and cucumber sandwiches, some cookies, and strike up a conversation. "Ever been to Niagara Falls?" "Where did you go to high school?" "Really? Police Women of Broward County is your fave TV show?" "Oh, and go ahead and take the tray out from under the sandwiches. Honest. It's only silver." "Here's a goody back of extra sandwiches and snacks, too. No sense in being hungry while you're playing burglar." "Love the early Halloween costume, by the way."

My head is already shaking in shame.

Scout Camp v. 2010

I got mail yesterday. The real kind. Not a bill, not a credit card offer, not something that looked personalized but really wasn't. No, this was an honest-to-goodness hand-addressed envelope with a real stamp and everything. I recognized the chicken scratch immediately.

 

 

Yes, my Turkey has chicken scratch! :-)

Rain

Finally! After a long dry spell we finally have rain. I have been listening to thunderstorms this afternoon and evening from the coziness of the couch and loving it. The rolling thunder, the pitter-patter-pitter of rain on the roof, water running through the gutters and giving the plants a much-needed long drink. Ah. It makes me not want to do anything.

Nothing.

So I steam cleaned the carpets. 

The definition of filth

Webster's defines filth as 1. (a) foul or dirty matter, (b) disgusting garbage or refuse; 2. A dirty or corrupt condition; foulness; 3. Something, such as language or printed matter, considered obscene, prurient, or immoral. All good. The first subset -- that would be 1(a) -- is particularly appropriate, but I would like to propose an amendment to dear Webster's. An addition, as it were.

4. A boy scout after summer camp.

Just be thankful blogger hasn't enabled smell-o-vision yet! Peee-yew!

Tangier Island pictures

As promised, here are all the photos from the trip to Tangier Island. If you want to make the photos bigger just click on the slideshow and you'll be redirected to Picasa. Once there click on the arrows at the top of the picture to scroll through the slides and, voila! Enjoy!

More birthday fun

It is now July 5th and I am very thankful for the 3-day weekend. Yesterday's festivities were the icing on the birthday cake and I am in need of a day to recuperate before a going back to work. I am plum tuckered out, to quote the southern saying.

A handful of us gathered on campus last night for a tailgate, birthday party, and fireworks viewing. The food was yummy, birthday cake sweet, company divine, and the fireworks extraordinary. It was a perfect 4th. Glow sticks and all. 

Happy birthday!

Birthday!

Today is the country's birthday (Happy birthday, USA!) but yesterday was all mine. Well, mine and a few thousand other people who claim July 3rd as their birthday. I don't know what all those other peeps did to mark their annual birthday milestone but I was fortunate enough to have an grand adventure. The full story will have to wait a day or two because I'm in between parties and have a "to do" list as long as my son's legs, but read on for the highlights.

Tangier Island was destination #1. There are only two ways to get there: boat or plane. We took the plane. The airstrip takes up 1/3 of the island with the other thirds being residential and boat docks. I'll get you a map of Tangier soon but here are a few shots taken yesterday:

That's the island in a quick nutshell. Here's a shot of our mode of transportation and pilot, and proof that I was IN the plane: 

After a few hours of fun exploring Tangier we headed west to Williamsburg. Here's what it looks like from the air:

We landed, refueled, chatted with the airport staff and then took off towards home. A little over an hour later we tied the plane down, filled out the logs, checked in with the family, and headed out for dinner. Then to a local fireworks show. It was a fabulous birthday!

The festivities continue today at the annual fireworks tailgate on campus. I'm so looking forward to seeing a bunch of friends and celebrate both the country's birthday and mine. Again.

Happy Fourth of July, my peeps! I hope you all have a fun-filled celebration. Don't forget the sunscreen and be safe. :-)

Moose pants

Brand new shorts, meet stains. Stains, meet shorts.

Not just any stain, mind you. We're talking top o' the line oil-based paint. Oh yeah, baby. Brown paint on green shorts. It looks lovely. (NOT!)

I noticed the stains while doing the Turkey's laundry earlier this week. When he was questioned about the origin of said stains the reply was, "oh, that's from the moose."

Did he just say "moose?" Was he at a petting zoo? Was there a moose at camp? Were the kids playing an old Rocky & Bulwinkle game? Is that moose droppings or just plain moose? Did he really mean "mousse?" How the heck was my kid tangling with a moose?

My questions were answered when I dropped him off at camp again.

Remember this elegant dining hall? While they could have had MOUSSE here he was really referring to the MOOSE.

See it?

Here. Here's the close-up:

Ah. Hi, Mr. Moose! That's my Turkey's handiwork (says the proud mom). 

Or would that be shortstainediwork and broke-from-buying-new-shorts mom?