Fun! Fun! Fun!

Two posts in one day! Now I know why I'm officially a freak! :-)

My friend Stephanie from Stephanie's Place recommended this site to assess your learning style and personality type. Have fun with it!

Below is my freakness:

I've Had a Brainectomy

Yeah, I was THAT stupid. You know you're really lonely when you actually invite the solicitors into your home and offer them afternoon scones and coffee.

"B...b...bu...but..but..YOU didn't see the dirt, sand and dog hair coming out of the carpet!" I say.

I feel victimized, I really do. But, hey, I got a nice vacuum out of the deal! And, it's American made! So, I'm keeping some guy employed in Ohio and I'm contributing to our economy. Still, I was THAT stupid and fell hook, line, and sinker for the stupid vacuum salesman.

I think I must have been temporarily body-snatched, because normally I just say "Uhhh, no" and slam, shut quickly, close the door in their faces. But, this very nice lady came to the door and hey, frankly, I needed the conversation. Job stinks, hubby's been working 80 hours a week for a month and the kids are at preschool. I'm home alone, unmotivated at my job, and there's only so much I can take. She turns out to be the presales person who puts a nice face to the company, because had the salesperson come to my door, I would definitely have given him some dental floss and shoe shine and sent him on his way.

Having JUST spotted yet another juice-caused stain on my beautiful carpet (damn!), I allow them in for the "free room cleaning" offer. You know that small voice inside your head that we ignore that says:

• "Don't do it -- you don't need another purse"


• Or the collegiate: "You're in South Beach for a spring break; don't go party alone with that guy cuz it'll just bring trouble, don't do it!"


• Or the married-with-children voice: "Don't let that vacuum salesman into your home! Nooooo! Don't do it!"

Yeah, that voice? Yeah, that one I blew off completely.

"B...b...bu...but....but...YOU didn't see the dirt, sand and dog hair coming out of the carpet!" I say. It was enough to make me hurl. I literally had to sit down and lift my feet off the floor, because I was so grossed out. And, my children and family are playing and walking on that carpet! To make matters worse, we have a cleaning service! And, vacuum on our own! I was still shocked and astounded at the crud and yuck that was coming out of the carpet.

Anyway, the greasy salesman had these funky shoes that I just could not stop staring it. So, while he's doing the demonstration with the cool attachment that has just a small round 6" filter that he opens and shows you all the carpet funk, I'm looking at his wing tips thinking, "Hmm, yeah, I'm not expert but I'm pretty sure those are out of style."

He puts another filter in, and goes over the SAME spot and still, more funk. Like the same kind of funk that you'd sweep up from the kitchen floor after having the dog in the house and the kids traipse through for a week type funk. I couldn't take it anymore and bought to stupid vacuum.

I know, I'm just making horrible excuses to appease my guilt. *My* guilt. My overpriced impulse purchase that we absolutely cannot afford makes me feel guilty. Stupid, I know. Maybe now my hubby are even for his purchase of the stupid extended warranty on his truck and car? :-)

The good news is that now that I can contemplate our financial crisis while sitting on the freshly vacuumed floor that I know is clean. When the creditors come to take everything we own to pay off debtors, I'll stand proudly on my American-made vacuum, holding the handle as if claiming it sacred ground, like an island in a sea of debt and say, "You can take my Expedition, but you can't take away my VACUUM!!!!!"

Yeah, I still feel guilty and stupid and I seriously need to get out of the house once in a while.

Results Not Typical

I am standing at a familiar trail head. A gateway to yet another weight loss attempt and yet another journey. A bit of deja vu, no? But, I really, Really, REALLY want it to stick this time! Weight Watchers, Atkins, Zone, Curves...gosh, I wish I had a dime for every attempt made throughout my years to lose weight.

Is wanting enough though? This is hard work and takes 100% focus! I want to lose weight for so many reasons: health, appearance, self-esteem, staying alive to see my kids have children, feeling pretty around my husband, etc. It's a tough, tough goal. It's no wonder that all the weight loss companies have to give a caveat with a "results not typical" comment.

I'm much like the drug addict wants to get clean and the alcoholic who desperately wants to be sober. I have no doubt that addicts truly have the deepest, strongest and truly honest desires to get clean and sober...but they can't. For whatever reason, they just can't. They (and I) fail, again and again and again, they fail. Same for my weight loss efforts. But, we keep trying; I keep trying.

Those that have succeeded and live clean, sober and healthy have a virtual "results not typical" asterisk next to their names and "n days clean" title. I don't want to be typical. I want to be healthy and thin and beautiful and keep up with my kids and be a delight in my husband's eyes.

Results not typical.

Maybe that is the prize. A badge of honor. An asterisk next to my name.

Speechless

Blogging twice in one day. tsk-tsk-tsk... bad blogger, bad! But this one I got from an email and just had to share it right now.

You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets?

You don't know, but you want to know. So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.

As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From whence came the light begins to tumble a river of color spiking crystals of every hue ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels . They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky.

North! South! East! West!

Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy. The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship. Presently the movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving only the triumphant triplet, Holy, holy, holy.

Between each word is a pause. With each word, a profound reverence. You hear your voice join in the chorus. You don't know why you say the words, but you know you must. Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is. JESUS.

Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration: I am the Alpha and the Omega.

The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know : Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy.. All that mattered, matters no more. . for Christ has come.

Legal Schmegal

We moved into a lovely new Napa Valley neighborhood in August 2004. Frederer and I loved picking out all the options we wanted, and we would drive by every so often to check on the homebuilding progress. And, we were absolutely thrilled that the front landscaping was provided (but the back was left up to us to complete). CC&Rs not withstanding (which had a 6 month completion requirement) Ruby was having a birthday in September, so we needed to move fast, if we were to have a housewarming/birthday party. We quickly contracted with a landscape architect (if you could call him that), met with him a few times to describe our vision for the backyard and he set out to work. We got him from http://www.servicemagic.com/ which is a fantastic site for all sorts of contractors and services, and our backyard is lovely, btw. :-)

He is American and has an American company. He hired a few subcontractors, who were also American. He worked with his subs and did a good job. Except for the cement-guy, I'd give them a B+. They were on-time, did good work, but didn't really make me say, "WOW!" They were better than average, but nothing from which I would shout from the rooftops. This could be because the backyard was new, and the landscaping was young, and I was just 4 months postpartum with Gorbulas, but who knows. I just remember being satisfied with their work.

Ever since, Frederer has maintained the back yard every-other-week or so. He's done a good job. He's my hubby so I know what his workload is like at work, what his home obligations are, what his emotional state is at the time, etc -- so if he doesn't get to the edging or fully weed everything 100% --- 'tis no big thang. I know that in the scope of life, every other week is good 'nuff for me.

In a previous post, I comment about being one of those people that just cannot seem to relax when there is clutter around the house. Truly -- I can't. I don't know why, I just can't. I'm talking about the kind of relax where you emotionally breath a sigh of relief and say, "Ahhh, peace." The only times I really get this kind of emotional "ahhh" is when the kids are at school, I'm home alone, and the cleaning ladies just left (yes, snobby me has a cleaning service). I sit in a silent family room, observing the clean kitchen floor, listening to the quiet whirrrr of the ceiling fan, and all the toys and books and puzzle pieces and blankets and sofa pillows and crayon wrappers and bike helmets and roller skates and lovies and clothes and papers and and and and are all put away and everything is clean. You know...like when you'd put your house up for sale clean. I feel the same way about the back yard.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if there's some new, fancy medical term for my condition? Besides neatfreak, I mean. Anyway...

Long story short, we (ie me) decide to hire a gardener. Frederer is just too busy at work (working 75 hours a week) and I like to have a neat yard. We have the money and I don't want to overwhelm him any more than he is already. I came home one day to find a business card for a landscaping service under the front doormat, so I called and left a message. A lady who spoke very broken English called me back and said that her husband, Roberto, would like to come by the house to give me an estimate. Sure...no problem, come on over.

He comes over with 2 other guys and they're all wearing the same shirts (ie, another landscaping company). Obviously, Roberto is doing work on the side, because he comes to our home after 4pm and he speaks less English than the other guys. So, we "talk" about what I want done, and let me tell you, there's a lot to do, initally. We negotiate and come up with a price for him to come weekly. He'll be here the following day.

He arrived on time, with all his own equipment. Let me just tell you: this guy worked for 3 hours and did a better job that Frederer and I could do COMBINED. He worked his tail off. He removed a young, dead tree; he completely weeded the side yard (which had weeds 3' tall); he weeded my tomato garden; he edged the front and back lawn; he and the kids picked up their toys; he replaced a sprinkler head and he mowed the lawns. (Editors' note: I hope my grammar and punctuation was correct).

Let me also say, he worked nonstop -- and he's got the body to prove it! (Is it considered rude for me to be a peeping tom looking out my own windows? Yowza!)

He doesn't speak a lot of English, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he's probably not legal. I didn't ask. Frankly, I don't care. I used to care. I used to be one of those people who was vehemently against illegal immigration because of "what they're doing to us" and would have heated Christmas dinner discussions about it. I have changed my thinking on this, and I am choosing to look the other way. You know why? Because I think we need to change our laws. There should not be two sets of laws for legals and illegals -- if you break the law, you should pay the consequences. Period. If you incur a debt, you need to pay it. Period. I wish we could all live by the simple Rules of Kindergarten and just LIVE.

One other thought before I close and the floods of anti-Daisy comments come in... Since he's already here, and he has a family, why can't we offer a better life for him (we do that for Cubans). Why can't we change our laws to honor those people that DO the hard work in our country? Why can't he be offered a temporary work visa to allow him to work? If he were Indian and needed a visa to do computer programming in Bellevue, we'd be all over it, but because he's Latino we're not? And, a bigger question to ask is, "Why do we have to hire this stuff out anyway? Where are all the 10 year old boys that mow lawns for $5 a week as a summer job?"

I know there are extreme examples of the immigration debate that get media attention, but like I said: if you break the law, you should pay the consequences. Period. If you incur a debt, you need to pay it. Period. There are always going to be the extremes that people point to and claim are the norm, which isn't really true.

If because I am employing this guy, he, his wife, possibly his children and his grandmother back home somewhere can live, why not help them? He's not getting a handout -- on the contrary, he's working his hiney off, and he's working harder than any American kid would (trust me, I have a 20 year old brother-in-law who would never work this hard, even if given the chance. He didn't even mow his own lawn at his parents house).

We have the money to employ him, we need the work done and he's 50% cheaper than a landscape service. That is the American economy in action -- competition eventually makes prices lower no matter what the industry. I look at it like we are helping a family, because that's what we are doing.

I've really thought a lot about this, and I've prayed about whether or not to employ him. Heck, I don't even KNOW if he's legal or not, but I have peace in my heart about this. I hope you all don't hate me now that I've shared my thoughts on this very controversial subject.

The Teachability Index

I'm in mid "late-mid-30s" as my friend Polly calls it (she's in her early-early-30sl) and the big 4-0 is really on my mind lately.

I plan on bloglifting a post topic I saw a while back called "40 Before 40." It's 40 things I want to do, goals I have or things to change before I turn 40. My Gosh -- FORTY! Geez...that's practically dead! Oh dear God, I would definitely be "middle aged" then huh?

*sigh* I'm gonna have a margarita at lunch.

As I think about my 40 Before 40 List (yes, another list!) I wonder... do I even have what it takes? Can I actually DO the things on my list? Sadly, I think not. Not because the list is particularly difficult; I mean, one item I do know to put on the list is to actually *water* my houseplants. Seriously -- how hard is that? Evidently, monumental for me, because when I bring another victim home, my husband quips, "Ahhh, another plant to kill." It's not the relative difficulty of the tasks, it's the tasks themselves that's the issue.

I ran across an interesting thought called the "Teachability Index." It rates how teachable you are. There are two parts to this teachability index, or what I like to call the Teachable Spirit: A*B=teachability index

A) One must be able to cognitively comprehend the item being taught. I am *really* good at this. I'm a fast learner and pick things up very quickly -- languages, new job tasks, new skills (hey! I know how to put in a french drain!), etc. This is rated on a scale of 0 to 10. 0 being you're just dumber than a bag of hammers and just don't get it no matter how long you try, and 10 meaning you're so super fantastic at picking it up you start trying to explain it to the bag 'o hammers group in the same training session (ie, me).

B) The second part of this equation is the probability of continued implementation. Ohhh this one is the hard one for me. Again, based on a scale of 0 to 10. Zero meaning there is NO CHANCE you would continue this course of action (ie, I know how to knock on my neighbors door and tell them their front landscaping is a pitiful attempt at xeriscaping and they're bringing the already plunging real estate values in the neighborhood down, but I choose not to). Or, better put: I know how to lose weight: eat 1,800 calories a day, drink 64 oz of water and exercise 60 minutes every day. The liklihood of continued implementation of this skill is not exactly rated as a 10. So, let's call is a 2. I'm not so pathetic that I'm a zero, but I'm pretty much down there with the bag 'o hammers folks.

My teachability index for this skill (losing weight) would be: 10 (adaptation) * 2 (implementation) = 20. Out of 100 this is PATHETIC.

Let's take another example: Blogging. Adaption=9 Implementation=10. Score=90 out of 100.
You get the idea.

Interesting to note that there are many skills that I have that I want to continue, and those teachability indices are very high (ie, things that I really make time to do). And those that I should do, but don't.

Hmm, lots of interesting things swirling through my head at this moment. I'll have to contemplate these over on the patio with a nice glass of vino and cheese and report back.

Interesting concept, the Teachability Index...
Hmmm, any takers on the over/under on me actually completing the 40 Before 40 List? HA!

Chicken Pox!!!!

The kids have Chicken Pox!

I thought for sure they wouldn't get it since they were vaccinated as infants. But, the good news is there are less than 10 pox on each of them, and many of them are starting to scab over already. If I hadn't heard about it from the teachers at their preschool, I would never have guessed they even had it. No big, red, blotchy, itchy pox here -- nope, these are small, itty bitty, red, zit-like pox that poke up, scab over and disappear within a few days.

I had Chicken Pox as a teenager and it was horrible!!!!! Pox on my face, my back, my torso, the back of my knees, and in between my toes! I picked and scratched and felt like I was crawling out of my skin. I remember my mother trying to console me, soaking me in an oatmeal bath, and reminding me, "Don't scratch! You'll get scars." I didn't care -- scratch, scratch, scratch -- and now, sure to her word, I have a scar near my temple which now has an icky, brown, growing-by-the-day age spot on it! ($h!t, mom was right again!).

What I find incredible is the parents at school. I can't imagine being a teacher dealing with nice kids and bonehead parents. The mom of this poor boy brought him back to school too early (before they officially scabbed all the way over) and he got another boy infected! In my opinion that mom should be required to double her volunteer hours. Hehe. How's that for punishment? Do bonehead moves at *this* school and you get penalized with increased hours. Bring your kid to school sick? Yeah - you just added 2 more hours to your Hot Lunch Day. Forget to bring your kid's lunch? Yeah - you just added another 5 hours to your Playground hours.

Heh. I'm just punitive. :-)

Or maybe I should implement a little bit of the grace that Christ so aptly gives me when I do bonehead things. Crap....I hate it when the Holy Spirit convicts!

Rick Springfield Concert

You know, I AM a product of the 80's right? Yep! Graduated high school in 1988 so my formative years were spent with leg warmers, stirrup pants, parachute pants, rainbow shirts, bangle bracelets, ear cuffs, layered hair and yes, awesome music. Depeche Mode? U2? INXS? Culture Club? Psych Furs? UB40? Journey? Rick Springfield? Oh yes......RICK SPRINGFIELD!

A group of 4 of us went to see the ultimate cutie-pie from down under in Saratoga CA on Sunday night (yes, same day as my Tahoe weekend return home). It was a fantastic concert, and he was very entertaining. He did his signature smash-the-guitar-with-a-dozen-roses thing which was awesome. He looks great -- heck, the guy is like 58 years old -- and he's still hot and rockin'.

The best highlight was seeing my friend's reaction to him. She LOVES him. Like, if he came knocking, she'd probably leave her husband for him (she'd come back, but she'd sure GO as well). It's an obsession really.

He's making his way through the crowd, walking on chairs, and he heads our way, one row behind us. Yay! We are on the floor, 7th row, so it's not that far-fetched that we might be able to *gasp* actually touch him! Lo and behold, he comes RIGHT NEXT TO US. He sees my freaky friend, who is wearing a concert shirt from 1986 (no kidding), and he leans into her to grab her hand. He says something to her, to which she replies, "I LOVE YOUUUUUU" and he leans in and kisses her on the cheek. No lie. I promise this is the truth. If you don't believe me, you can call 867-5309 and talk to her yourself. (All kidding aside, I am quite serious of these events).

He ventures back on stage and my friend looks at me, is physically shaking, and says, "I can't breathe." Heheheheheh. Poor thing. She probably still hasn't recovered!

In all, Celebrate Youth, Jessie's Girl, Don't Talk to Strangers, and the like were shouted by the crowd and he was very entertaining.

The best picture I got though is this one: mother and daughter. Mother looks so jazzed to be there-she was singing along to all the songs. Daughter is straight faced thinking, "who is that old guy and why does everyone think he's hot?"

Tahoe Fun - Day 3

Proof I was on the beach at South Lake
Tahoe -->

I forgot to mention something on Day 2....our reservations agent called us wondering why we hadn't kept our 9am timeshare update meeting. She sounded so pathetic (and she got ME on the phone) so we rebooked the horrible meeting for 9am Saturday. *sigh*

Granted, I *did* want to be updated on the timeshare status because Sunterra was just purchased by Diamond Resorts. I wanted to know some details and how that impacted my existing contracts, so Frederer reluctantly agreed to go. And, hey, we got $100 for it, so why not?

We arrive at said meeting at 9am and are warmly greeted by a chipper receptionist. We get checked in and the room is packed with freebie-seeking people like ourselves. The salespeople start calling families in one by one and it's finally our turn. We check the kids into the little preschool activity room and we're off. Greg, our salesperson, is so gracious and offers us coffee, pastries, juices, etc. I notice that our ROOMS don't look this nice and they have better coffee than we do. Hmmm.

So, make a long story short, we endure his presentation telling us everything we already know about the benefits of a timeshare. I know. Frederer knows. Yet, he continues on like we are totally green. *Sigh* It's going to be a long 90 minutes.

We own in Hawaii (picture at left) - creme de la creme of locations and yes, Tahoe is nice and easily accessible, but unless we go to Hawaii and use all our points, we say that we have trouble actually using all 10,000 each year. Anyway, he's clearly disappointed because he's obviously reviewed our sales history. In 2001 we bought an every-other-odd-year plan in Hawaii. In 2003 we went back to Hawaii and bought an every-other-even-year plan in Hawaii, so now we could go every year if we so chose.

In good shot-down-salesperson fashion, he gathers what's left of his ego and says he'll get his manager to close out the day's paperwork for us. Here's where it gets interesting...the sales manager looks about 22 years old and "just wants to verify the details" of what was discussed. He then proceeds to give us HIS pitch on why we should buy the 16,000 points from Tahoe.

I say, "We have trouble using all the 10,000 points we have. We're not interested in purchasing more points at this time."

Not-So-Bright sales manager obviously doesn't understand who he's dealing with here. You can't BS a BS'er. I am in sales. I know the drills. He's obviously not LISTENING to his prospect's needs. If the sales manager was smart, my previous statement should have been the end to the meeting and he should have been on to another prospect.

NotSoBright then drops his proposal to 10,000 points for an even more special discount.

I look at Frederer. I look at Not-So-Bright. "We. Have. Trouble. Using. The. 10,000. Points. We. Already. Own. This is not a money issue (but it is though). This is a time issue."

"Well, what if we could sign you up today for an additional 3,500 points?"

I'm almost stunned. Get me out of here.

Now, let me say that if you have intentions of purchasing a timeshare, then the presentations ARE nice. And, timeshares ARE WONDERFUL - they are. But, under no circumstance would I ever encourage anyone to endure a 90 minute process just to get something in return. It just ain't worth it folks. Small VCRs, DVD players, TVs, 3-day getaways, it's not worth your time or frustration. And, even if you were interested in purchasing, there is a game that needs to be played. My recommendations: http://www.redweek.com/ or http://www.buyandselltimeshares.com/.

Anyway, we leave the presentation and can now get our day underway. We have a fantastic outdoor lunch right at Riva Grill (below) on the shores of Lake Tahoe. It is absolutely beautiful (but pricey). We were going to take a boat cruise around the lake, but because NotSoBright made us late for the 11am Family Fun Cruise, we weren't about to try and endure a 2 1/2 hour cruise that started at 2pm. Yah. With kids. No way.

We decide to do some shopping and then head back to the room. The kids nap, Frederer goes to work out and I get the awesome privilege of staying behind to supervise the sleeping children. I kick back on the patio, feet up, reading my The Last Sin Eater book and I break out the wine and cheese. Ohhhh yeahhhhh, now *this* is what I'm talkin' about!

A good hour goes by and I haven't made it 4 pages in my book. I'm people watching, I'm gazing at the mountains, I'm watching the few clouds go by and I'm sipping some wine and nibbling on some awesome cheese. If you're a wine and cheese person, try Carmody, Midnight Moon and a nice Pt. Reyes Bleu Cheese. Nice......that and some water crackers and you're golden.

After the kids wake, we grab their bikes and helmets and we walk and they pedal down to the beach for some late afternoon fun. Ruby and Gorbulas make some friends and quickly begin to build a sandcastle. Frederer joins the fun, only his sandcastles are slightly more....let's say risque. He's made one of me (with two huge boobs), and then another one he calls the Woman From Chernobyl, with three huge boobs. He then makes one of himself with a huge....yeah, you know where that one's going.

It's a lot of fun just hanging out for a while and we finally meander back to the room. As we're heading back, we see there are not one, but TWO weddings happening on the shores. One wedding is on the beach, and the other is on the cruise boat that will probably take them around the lake for their reception. Now, the wind is kicking up and the bride on the beach is complaining about her hair (which is hair sprayed so heavily it flips up like a windsail -- a bridal combover if you will. Hilarious!). What is it with Bridezillas and their NEED to have everything just "so" on that perfect day? I had to laugh...I think the whole wedding industry thing is a huge farce. Story for another blog though.

We head back to the room, change clothes and head over to Chevy's to cash in some of our $100 certificates. We celebrate our success in leaving the timeshare presentation financially intact and Frederer and I have a shot of Pedron Silver (yummy smooth tequila), followed by a Strawberry Margarita. We close the fun day with our 2nd attempt at watching "The Da Vinci Code" movie and popcorn. We both crash before the credits roll. How romantic.

So far, our little Tahoe getaway has been REALLY nice. One more day to go and then we head home (and me? I get to go to a Rick Springfield concert! More to come on THAT!)

Tahoe Fun - Day 2

Day from Hell has ended. Yay! We sleep the night away very quickly, and wake up at 6:30am. We're eager to start our 3-day vacation (on 5 hours sleep) and begin discussing the day's adventures ahead.

The place we are staying is a timeshare trade, and we really, REALLY like our timeshare. We own in Poipu Beach, Kauai, and traded a couple thousand points for our Tahoe weekend. Not bad, actually. The rooms are well equipped and each have full kitchens -- which, with children we LOVE. Our Poipu timeshare is a 2-bedroom, 2-bath, full kitchen with washer/dryer in the unit, so it's truly like our home away from home. There's nothing worse than trying to cram 4 people in a standard two double-bed hotel room with no kitchen features and no laundry. I've tried it. It stinks.

To the lovely background music of Scooby Doo and Curious George, I cook for the family, we enjoy a nice hot breakfast and we discuss the day's plans. No sooner do we realize that we want to go that we notice it's 8:50am, and we're supposed to be at the "timeshare update meeting" at 9am. Basically, this is that horrible timeshare presentation one must attend in order to get the freebies they offer. I hate -- repeat HATE -- timeshare presentations when you have no intention of purchasing. It really is the most pitiful, painful 90 minutes one could spend on their limited vacation. So, like any sane person would do, we cancel at the last moment. Tee-hee-heee. Sinner.

Frederer calls down and makes the usual parental excuse: the kids. It's awesome having kids as an excuse for getting out of stuff one doesn't want to do. "Oh, sorry, we can't attend insert stupid event here because insert child's name here has insert event here and they're usually exhausted afterward." Heheheheh -- works like a charm. The BEST was when the kids were babies and we had the "Ohhhh we need to get the baaaaaby home" excuse. Yeah. Right. Like you can't tote your 6 month old practically everywhere in the bloody carseat? Yeah. It only sucks when you're on the receiving end of the lame excuse and everybody knows it's a lame excuse. Oh well, what goes around comes around I guess. We're tolerant of others that use the baby excuse -- Frederer and I just give each other the "eye" and we know what you're up to, because hey, we did it too.

We sneak past the Sales Office, thinking for sure some rotten tomatoes will hit us from behind, and we venture off into the beautiful South Lake Tahoe weather. Our first stop is Magic Carpet Putt-Putt World! This is our first foray into miniature golf with children, and I must say, aside from a few mishaps, we had a fantastic time. We were following a group of 6 teenagers, who were hilarious, and nobody was behind us. We took our time, and truly enjoyed ourselves. Gorby was ha-stinkin-larious whacking the ball this way and that, and he even made contact a few times, got some air and landed in the other putt-putt course! Frederer dropped him over the fence to get his ball a few times, and he got hoisted back over. It was fun. Thankfully, no injuries were sustained by any bystanders, and our umbrella insurance policy is still fully intact.

The funniest part of the whole putt-putt experience was the competitiveness between Frederer and me. We'd hoot and hollar when we'd get a hole-in-one, cheat and claim the other person had a mulligan. It was great fun. But, as a scrapbooker, I must tsk-tsk-tsk myself. I forgot my camera!!! Here I am taking pictures with my phone (which, when compared to my digital Canon Rebel, offers no comparison whatsoever). So, my pictures are crappy.

After putt-putt we ventured to the game room. Gorby and Ruby climbed all over the motorcycles rides, and Frederer and I played air hockey. He beat me fair and square, 7-3. Yeah, pretty much sucked to be me. NO GRACE FROM THE HUBBY I TELL YA - NONE. But, I got him back as I have actual photos of him and Ruby on the DanceDanceRevolution game. Yep - pretty funny I gotta tell ya. And you thought he had a pronounce white man's overbite before DDR? Oh yeah, bigtime on the DanceDanceRevolution game. Fun was had by all!

We finally venture out of the Magic Carpet and head to Heavenly Village to take the Gondola up to the top of the mountain. This is an amazing attraction and I highly recommend it. The view is spectacular and truly there's nothing else like it. Lake Como in Italy maybe. But on this side of the pond, truly there's nothing more breathtaking than a vista view of Lake Tahoe.

Lunch at Wolfgang Pucks' Bistro was awesome -- it's not the snooty Wolfgang Puck restaurant though. This is a walk-up, counter order kind of place that has great pizza and salads. The 4 of us share a brownie, and really have enjoyed a wonderful day. No cell phones. No blackberries. No emails. Just family time, and lots of it. It was wonderful.

After lunch, we head back to the room for a little R&R and naps before we head to the pool. No sooner do we get back to the room and the kids are just on fire. Naps are nowhere in our near future, and they're bouncing off the walls. Frederer and I let them play for a bit and we catch up on sports and news, espectively.

Disclaimer: This is where it gets a bit gross. So, consider yourself warned.

We hear the kids playing in our room, and we're in the living room. They're playing choo-choo train. Ahhhh, how endearing. They come out of our room and are connected around the necks with a black something-er-other and are marching in step. One is leading the way and the other is lagging behind and the black stretchy thing moves with them. They say, "Chugga-chugga-choo-choo!!!!" and proceed to march around the entire kitchen, living room, hallway, etc. Cute.

I look again...and what? What?!? WHAT?!?

They have my black underwear around their necks -- one leghole around each of their necks -- and they are proceeding around the room playing trains!

OMG!!!!! (Thankfully, they're not THAT dirty but were in the dirty clothes nonetheless).

Again, in true Faye Dunaway fashion, in my best Mommy Dearest voice, I scream, "PLEASE STOP PLAYING TRAINS WITH MY BLACK UNDERWEAR!!!!!!"

I am embarrassed, the kids are flying off the hook, and Frederer is laughing so hard he's howling.

So we give up on naps and head to the pool for a few hours. At least they'll be distracted enough not to go rummaging through dirty laundry. Sheesh.

Tahoe Fun - Day 1

So the South Lake Tahoe trip started as the Trip from Hell. Admittedly, it was me. My fault. The kids and I left home 20 mins late, I didn't get gas and I left the bag of snacks in the pantry. And, I didn't even think about Bay Area rush hour traffic. Again, my bad. The computer in the rig tells me we have 62 miles to empty. Sweet - it's only 43 miles to Frederer's workplace. Cool. I'm not stoppin'. We head east on I-80. Going.....25 miles an hour.

We finally make it thru traffic (90 mins later) and pick up Frederer around 7pm. The kids are I are S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G. I greet Frederer, he hops into Clifford (we named our big red Ford Expedition "Clifford the Big Red Dawg") and we're finally off to the Old Spaghetti Factory in Sac. We arrive at 7:30pm (with 2 miles to spare in gas, nope - didn't stop before dinner either!). Ruby and Gorby were troopers though -- heck, just pop in Max & Ruby in the handy-dandy DVD player in the ole' rig, and hey...we're golden.

I'm one of those people that require -- absolutely REQUIRE -- two simple things in life: food and sleep. Without either of those (God help us if both are lacking) I'm really pretty much a freak of nature and I'm liable to bite your head clean off. Imagine if you will, a wife that's had no lunch, kids that had no snack after 4pm swimming lessons, and Bay Area traffic. Not a good picture. I sped like a freekin' banchee another 15 minutes up the road to the Old Spaghetti Factory.... Where. There. Is. a. 15-Minute. Wait. WHATT?!!!?!!! Blink-Blink-Blink. I smile the warmest smile I can muster and say, "Alrighty then, we'll be in the bar." (Remember the eye-blinking? When I'm disgusted?)

We finally get seated and our waiter comes to take our order. Gorbulas spills his Shirley Temple (casualty #1 of 3 that evening) and is now sticky. I JUST WANT TO EAT SOME DINNER!!! Hubby is gracious and sees that I'm about to come unglued, so he intervenes.

We order a yummy dinner, and ahhhhhhhh after the bread and salad and drink I'm now back to my normal chipper, happy to be on vacation self. It truly is a freak of nature, I'm not kidding; it's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Only I don't grow hair in my ears and turn green.

Our entrees finally arrive and YUM, this hits the spot. Ruby accidentally (?) dumps out practically the entire jar of parmesan cheese on her spaghetti which is now dry, so she's encroaching on my ravioli's and Gorby (who thankfully, for his own safety, is sitting by Frederer) is lifting his spaghetti and fork as high as his arm will allow. My mood had totally changed now that I've had nourishment. I can't say so much for Frederer. Between the bickering kids, the 500th "are we there yet" and the first Shirley Temple accident, he's not in the mood.

Gorby lifts his spaghetti fork to the heavens and (yep, you guessed it), splat! Right on Frederer's work pants. (imagine, through gritted teeth)

"GOD........BLESS AMERICA!" (My hubby's new curse word -- well, not really -- but it's a really good one -- when you're in the heat of the moment, it works really well to say what you WANT to say but not really say it).

Just bring us the bill please and we'll be on our way.

So it's now 9pm and we have another 2 hours to go. The kids are NOT tired, and no matter how much we try, sleep in nowhere in sight for them. So, we sing, we chat, they play, they argue, and we finally end up watching Peter Pan for the remaining hour on the road. It's now 11:30pm and (Murphy's accompanied us on this trip), 10 mins before our destination the kids fall asleep. We finalllyyyyyy roll into the Lake Tahoe Vacation Resort in South Lake Tahoe.

Thank God there's a valet and a bellman. The kids wake and he loads up the trolley and we head to our room. It's a nice 1 bedroom unit with a pullout couch. Onto the sofa go the kids.

We finally crash about 1:00am and breath a sigh of relief.

OK. We. Can. Now. Relax.

Tomorrow will be a great day -- our expectations are high!

Good Morning Smiles