Scottsdale, Arizona

Hello Everyone! I want to thank everyone for being so patient while I work up the energy to write this entry out. As I said to Beth earlier this week, after our vacation, it took all my strength just to drag myself back to work much less compose an entry and do other important things…like laundry. I think part of my delay was trying to figure out how to describe last weekend; or more importantly, how to make complete and utter relaxation sound exciting. I guess the best I can hope for is if you don’t find this entry amusing that you at least come away with the sense of wanting to go to Scottsdale yourself. Just so you know, the washing machine is pleasantly churning away right now, and here I am again, writing to you.

Most of you already know how Kevin and I ended up in Scottsdale, but for those who don’t, let me explain. I entered a contest on the greater Phoenix tourist board’s website sometime last spring. They had four prizes, all of which were two night stays at some fancy resort in the Phoenix\Scottsdale area. In July I was notified via mail that I had won one of the prizes:

• Hyatt Regency Scottsdale Resort and Spa at Gainey Ranch package: two-bedroom casita accommodations for a two-night stay for four; Camp Hyatt for two children for one day; 60-minute Avania massage or facial for two; dinner for four; and a round of golf for two.

Not bad for a piece of mail I almost threw away, huh?

I made the reservations right away for March 2007. Kevin and I were celebrating our 5-year anniversary (of dating) and figured what better way to do so then at a 5-star resort. Unfortunately we couldn’t book the room for Saturday\Sunday so we ended up getting a cheap hotel in Phoenix on Saturday and went to the resort on Sunday\Monday.

We got into Phoenix at 6 PM St. Patrick’s Day. We soon realized that the cheap hotel I had booked was an understatement in ‘cheap’. We were quite literally in the bad part of town, complete with two hookers hanging outside the hotel. I can’t verify for sure whether or not they were hookers as I didn’t ask them or anything, I just assumed that when a 300 lb woman is wearing a lacra dress so tight her cottage cheese butt is completely exposed revealing a g-string she’s barely wearing, she might be a hooker. The hotel itself was…well, cheap. The bed was a board with two pieces of tissues for a pillow. I was a bit shocked not to see cockroaches. We quickly changed into some fresh clothes and grabbed a cab downtown.

I had found an Irish bar to go to online before we left but when we got there I realized how stupid that choice was as well. The place was packed and had a $10 cover charge. After the disappointment in the hotel, I didn’t want to deal with it. Thankfully there was this great little basement bar, Monroe’s, directly across the street that not only wasn’t crowded, but it had cheap drinks and terrific food. I want to take time right now to personally thank Monroe’s on 3 W. Monroe St. for turning our St. Patrick’s Day around. You guys are awesome.

On the cab ride back to the hotel, our cab driver looked at us cockeyed when we gave the address. “Oh man, that’s the ghetto!” Yes sir, I think we already gathered that. After a bad nights sleep on an awful bed, we left first thing in the morning. It might be the only time Kevin and I have left a hotel room before checkout time EVER.

We headed straight to Scottsdale, which is about 20 minutes northeast of Phoenix. We had a while before we could check into the resort so we bummed around the entertainment district and got some food. Unfortunately we had already ate breakfast when we stumbled upon Giligan’s (4251 North Winfield Scott Plaza) where we learned they had amazing cheap Sunday breakfast. They also apparently have Goldfish Races but we missed that too. I did, however, spin the big wheel of drinks for $2.00 (I’ve watched too much Price is Right not to!) and had to do a shot of Peach Pucker. Ew.

We finally checked into the resort at 2 PM. I was a bit worried at first that they would look at my gift certificate and say “Yeah, right”, but they just smiled and handed me the keys to the room; or, as it turns out, the little house.

Walking through the resort to the casita was breath taking enough. First thing you see is the cacti and waterfalls lining the pathway to the swimming pool(s) and golf course. The air smells sweet from the flowers, the birds are chirping, and you hear laughter from the kids careening down the water slide. They could have told me I was sleeping on the benches in the veranda and I’d be happy. But no, our key opened the door to a little cottage that is literally as big as our apartment.

Veranda

Kevin and I looked inside, looked at each other, looked inside and began bouncing and cheering. Then we started running from room to room shouting, “KEVIN! Lookatthis!! Lookatthis!!” “MOE! C’mereandseethis!!!!” Think two 8-year olds let loose in Toys R Us with a fistful of money and no parents. Everything we came across (three TVs!) we began giggling (a stocked FREE refrigerator!) like we had just committed a crime (two rooftop patios!) and had gotten away with it (THREE bathrooms!). We quickly unpacked and went to the adult pool (adult pool! No screaming splashing kids allowed! I’m in heaven!) for a swim and a cocktail.

Let the relaxing ensue.

Living room in the casita

Later on, we had the Hyatt driver (leather seat Lincoln!) take us back to the entertainment district. We had seen an ad for a tiki bar\restaurant called Drift (4341 N 75th St) in the local newspaper and decided to check it out. While it was a bit more upscale than I had hoped for (I’m still going to marry Tiki Ti in Hollywood), the food was fantastic and the drinks were really cool. I had the Spicy Peanut Chicken bowl and the Lava Flow. The bowl was indeed spicy (I went through 3 glasses of water and pulled an American Dave when I ate it) but damn was it good. I wasn’t feeling too great after dinner, most likely due to the heat of Scottsdale and the heat of the food, so we just went back to the resort. Not that going back to the resort was hard to do.

Drift and the Lave Flow

The next day was more relaxing at the pool, late lunch, a massage at the spa, more relaxing at the pool, hot tub, lounging on the rooftop deck, etc. etc. ahhhhhhh. We met up with Kevin’s friend, Kim, for dinner that night and tried as desperately as we could to use all $200 of the gift certificate we had. After three appetizers, two filet migons, one fish special of the day, salads, and a tiramisu dessert, we only managed to spend $137. Booze was not included or else we might have been able to pull it off. The food was delicious but I was so full by the time the steak got there that I only had three bites and ended up taking the rest back for breakfast the next day. After Kim left, we went on our free gondola ride and hung out by the fire pit on the veranda.

Toes at the Adult Swimming Pool

I was already starting to get depressed that we had to leave the next day.

No baby ducks were harmed in my leaving the resort depression.

I woke up early on Tuesday morning and spent an hour sitting on the patio drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and watching the bunnies bounce around. I was truly sad to have to go and tried as best as I could to take it all in to memory. Once Kevin woke up I took the below video. Obviously I will never ever become a filmmaker but if you can suffer through, you can see the casita and the resort a little bit.





As this is already a really long entry, I will end it here. Thank you again for waiting so long for me to un-relax to actually write it out.

Mini Roadside America Road Trip - Orange County\Long Beach, CA

In the early 1990’s, when everyone I knew around my age smartly went off to college, I began what I like to call my Wander Years. One could argue that I still am in my Wander Years, but it surely wouldn’t be the move-every-3-months craziness as it was before; for awhile I was doing a tri-state move-fest between Wisconsin, Colorado, and oddly enough, Missouri. Both during and between moves, I would visit other states to either check out a potential new place to move, or just for stupid teen-twenties parties (the Anarchist Picnic in Indiana springs to mind). During this time frame I bought this book, the new Roadside America Handbook.

I used to spend hours at the Denny’s on 6th and Wadsworth in Lakewood, CO pouring over that book, dreaming of the road trip across America I would one day take in my 1963 convertible something - once I could afford it. Think Tom Cochran’s ‘Life is a Highway’ video minus Tom Cochran. I’d see the giant peach in Gaffney, South Carolina! I leave a deposit at the 3-story outhouse in Bryant Pond, ME! I’d defy gravity in Santa Cruz, CA! I had that book dog-eared and highlighted with notes in the margins. And for a while you couldn’t even see me without seeing that book in tow.

Sadly, the book, as well as the Denny’s on 6th and Wadsworth is long gone. I never did make that road trip though I’d be a damn liar if I said it still wasn’t one of my dreams.

Recently I ran into the Roadside America website. Looking through the entries for the Muffler Man and the Giant Egg brought me back to those early Denny’s Days. I decided that although I don’t have the fortune or vacation time to do my cross-country trip the way I meant it to be, I could certainly do a mini Roadside America road trip on Saturday afternoon. So that’s exactly what I did.

Checking out the site map, I decided that quantity would have to rule over quality in my mini trip. I grabbed a map, a soda, a full pack of smokes, kissed the boyfriend good-bye, and off I went.


When traffic was actually light.

The first stop was White House Doll Museum in Anaheim. The description was, “Hobby City is a street packed with a variety of hobby stores. One building that jumps out is a half-size version of the White House. It contains a 4,000+ item toy and doll museum and a large Barbie and Ken collection.” I found traffic getting to this wayside was a pain in the ass. I found the half-sized version of the White House just as disappointing. I would like to point out, however, that if I ever decide to build a model again, I’m coming here. I didn’t have the $2.00 in cash to look at the actual doll museum, so after taking a picture, I was on to my next destination.

Radical Reptiles was unfortunately not open

…which was the giant donut! Of the three wayside attractions I wanted to see the most, the giant donut was the highest on my list. This may stem from fond childhood memories of the giant cows in both South Dakota and Wisconsin (Dad: “Look! Giant Cow! Moo! MOO!”). I just love giant … whatevers. That sounded dirty so we’re going to move on.

As you can see from the picture, the sign obviously say ‘bagel’. I happen to know that it’s actually a donut that got converted to a bagel at some point in time, so donut I will call it, ‘bagel’ be damned. And I obviously had to have a donut there or else I’d just be cheating. It wasn’t half bad.

Mmmmm....donut.

After the donut and the picture taking, I moved on to Long Beach where the World’s Largest Flag is kept. I wasn’t sure what to expect – would the flag be on display in a museum? Would it be wrapped in one of those flag triangles? I had no idea, nor did I have an exact address. The website said it was on 4th and Lime. When I got to 4th Street, I made a right turn thinking that Lime would soon come up. I passed Orange Ave, Walnut Ave, and Cherry Ave before I realized I was going in the wrong direction. I made a u-turn a low and behold, world’s largest flag. I’m such a dumbass. If I had simply looked left instead of right at 4th I wouldn’t have been able to miss it. It’s the world’s largest flag after all.

I pulled over and over compensated my dumbass-ness by taking 20 different pictures. I must have looked really patriotic.

Deceased Flag Owner...and bird.

After the giant flag I headed home. I was a bit disappointed as the three attractions didn’t take more than an hour or so to see (including driving). I wish I had known or else I would have fit in Hitler's Beer Steins and Richard Nixon’s Birthplace and Library.

*Sigh*. Maybe next time.

Well kids, next week’s update is going to be a bit late. Kevin and I are cruising out of state for a few days. I don’t want to give too much away, but I do promise multiple updates when we return.

Orange Picking Party -Riverside, CA

Hey! Check me out! I got out of the house this weekend. AND, to even further my greatness (ahem) I stayed away from the water and went INLAND*! And to think I almost ended up with another home entry. I have to thank the text message from my very funny Irish friend, Patrick, who asked, “Moe, new this w/e, an Orange Picking Party, Interested?”

Which I responded, “As long as I don’t have to get up at the butt crack of morning, Totally!”**

I really didn’t know what to expect from the Orange Picking Party. Was it at a huge orange grove? What kind of people would be there? Should I bring anything? What should I wear? Will I get dirty? Is it far? What time? What’s blue? When a teacher picks his nose during a student’s exam, will he fling that booger far? *** I limited my questions to Patrick as I didn’t want him to un-invite me.


Oranges silly.

We arrived in Riverside around 2:30 PM. The band (there was a band!) was already playing and the oranges that were in arms reach were already picked off. There were plenty of oranges higher up so I grabbed a bag and an orange-picking pokey stick**** and began collecting. I also had to finish my beer really quickly as attempting to maintain balance on a slopie hill while trying to pull an orange from a tree using the orange-picking pokey stick and holding an increasingly heavy bag of oranges all the while holding a beer just wasn’t working. Kevin and I had to ask for advice from Michele’s son, Baron:



I ended up picking two large grocery bags worth. After the first bag I mentally told myself there would be no way I would need so many oranges even if I made orange juice and orange pie and orange muffins and orange fruitcake loaf for the next week. But I couldn’t stop picking those damn oranges. I’ve never picked my own food before. ***** It was awesome.


I don't know who this kid is but he cracks me up.

After I exhausted my orange picking efforts (Kevin had long since deserted me for food that didn’t come from a tree), I grabbed another beer and joined Kevin on the feasting. We then sat down and watched Patrick’s band play. In the below video, the girl singing is all of 13 years old, and I am apparently fascinated by Kevin’s chicken:



If you noticed from the video, this was a family party. Which is why it was very surprising that the cops came around at 6:30 PM to shut us down for noise violations. Apparently a neighbor complained that her windows were rattling. When I asked the hostess of the party if she invited everyone in the neighborhood she said, “Well I normally do but this year I didn’t.” D’oh! There must have been one angry neighbor who wanted to get her oranges picked. (hee)


Very Inland Riverside

Not wanting to have ‘the man’ bring us down, we stuck around for another hour or so. Take that ‘man’!


Patrick, the very funny drum-playing Irish man.

When we said good-bye to Patrick and Michele, I thanked them for inviting us. Patrick just smiled and mentioned that I must get a kick out of writing about things like this to make the people back home in the cold and snow jealous. I smiled back and said, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

*In California standards, going 5 miles east of the Pacific Ocean is considered ‘inland’. I know it’s absurd but I don’t make the rules I just Roman it (as in, ‘when in Rome’…I just made that up by the way; I wonder if it will stick).

**Not exact text message back, I am simply paraphrasing.

***And the answers are: Not a very big grove, maybe 15 trees. A buncha different types of people, mostly families. Bring beer. Wear anything you damn well please. If you want to get dirty. About 40 minutes away. ‘Round 1 PM. A color, dumb ass. Yes, it will fling farther than the further galaxy.

****Not actual name. Duh.

*****OK, OK, save for a couple raspberries on hiking trips, tomatoes from my small garden, and apples from my grandmother’s back yard. But I’m telling a STORY here.

Sidenote: I don't know what YouTube does to videos to make them look so grainy...the real video is much better. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

Crock-Pot Jambalaya - Home Entry!

I’m going to pre-warn you that this is going to be a pretty piss poor entry this week. I’m saying that mostly because I almost didn’t have an entry for you at all this week due to pure unadulterated laziness. I was going to claim a sabbatical or something similar. Truth be told, I felt like being a homebody this weekend and a homebody I was, as I didn’t manage to make it a ½ mile from my house all weekend long. At the very last minute (read: Sunday afternoon) I got a bit of an inspiration (read: pulled from my ass) that lead me to this.

My inspiration came from two things really; which may or may not be related in this little head of mine. First off, it was Fat Tuesday last week (aka: Mardi Gras), which makes me miss the great food I had in my all too short trip to New Orleans back in 2002. Secondly the inspiration came from trying to convince Kevin Saturday night that maybe we should consider moving to New Orleans in a couple of years.

His response? “No.”

His reason? “Heat, Humidity and Hurricanes.”

Which beat my reason of, “you can drink booze in the streets.”

While my reason doesn’t really hold up real well to his reasons, it still doesn’t quench the desire to do it. Not to mention I have a couple of years to wear him down to the idea (Wah HA HA (evil laugh)).

SO YES! This does bring us down to the entry itself, which is Jambalaya via crock-pot (told you I was lazy!).

Here are the ingredients to make Jambalaya via crock-pot. The recipe also calls for shrimp but since I don’t eat anything that comes from the sea, it was omitted. Feel free to add as many of the poop-shoot crustaceans as your heart’s desire if you make this yourself.


No poop-shoot crustaceans needed.

First thing first was to cut up the chicken and sausage. Except for the sausage was fresh from the butcher so slicing wasn’t an option. For those who are vegetarians, please look at the below picture NOW. The rest of you…man, did the meat and fat and whatever else they shove in sausage just ooze out. Even I, who loves red meat more than I really should, had trouble stomaching the bloody red sausage boogers that were inside. I ended up throwing in the sausage whole with the thought that I would just cut them up later.



Hi Vegetarians! Welcome back.


Salmonella anyone?

Oh sorry vegetarians. Here’s another picture to get over the last one.



After the meat was cut up, in went the green pepper and onions. Yes, (to those who know me well) I also detest onions. Which is why I cut the onions so huge that there would be no problems whatsoever in picking them out. I also added the stewed tomatoes, white wine, chicken broth and spices.



After that….well, it was the crock pots turn.


Crock-pot in kitchen 2 PM

Since we have 5 hours to kill until the crock-pot is done, let me tell you about our crock-pot. Kevin and I got our crock-pot at Kohl’s last year for $25. I was excited to use the crock-pot so we went to the store right away and got some meat, potatoes, and carrots to make a pot roast. I hurried through cutting up all the veggies and meat and turned on my ‘crock’ for the very first time. I burned my fingers, as I didn’t know the outside got so freakin’ hot. I watched the ‘crock’ cook for at least 15 minutes thinking that maybe I had a magical crock-pot that actually cooked a 6-hour roast in 20 minutes. I was excited. I was thrilled. I was…really not in the mood for pot roast.

After cooking and smelling the pot roast for 6 hours it was time to eat it. Except I didn’t want to. In fact, I don’t think there was anything I would LEAST want to eat (except onions and things from the sea)(and maybe mushrooms and mustard)(and eggplant)(yes, I’m impossible). But I forced myself to eat my crock-pot pot roast. And I forced myself to eat it the next day too. After that, I put away the crock-pot in disgust and haven’t taken it back out again until…now.

…OH HEY! The jambalaya is done! Fast 5 hours, huh?


Crock-pot in kitchen 7 PM

A little rice and viola! Jambalaya!


It really does taste better than it looks.

The jambalaya turned out pretty good and it was a heck of a lot easier to do than the gumbo I tried making last year. Little word to the wise, if you do try crock-pot jambalaya, make sure to remove the food from the crock-pot when it’s done. We failed to do this and ended up with over-cooked mush for leftovers the next day; though at least the mush was better than the pot roast that I never wanted.

Sea World - San Diego, CA

Growing up in Wisconsin it was pretty common for a lot of families to go down to Florida over Spring Break. My family was no exception. Every other year we would pack up the minivan with cold sodas, tanning lotion and funny hats and take a two-day car trip down to Tampa, Florida. After a couple of days there we would then drive over to Sanibel Island for the rest of the week. Being as fascinated with palm trees and Miami Vice as I was, I loved our Florida trips more than anything. I didn’t even mind the drive down (and my little brother throwing up all over the place before we realized he has chronic motion sickness). I would sit in the very back row of the van listening to Duran Duran tapes on my boom box (with headphones) while I mouthed the words of ‘Rio’ and ‘Planet Earth’ for 1,273 miles. I honestly only had about 3-4 cassette tapes for the entire trip so it doesn’t phase me at all that I can still sing-along with the entire ‘Notorious’ album.

While we were in Tampa for the couple days at the beginning of the trip, we would always either go to Busch Gardens or Disney World, never Sea World.


"Why don't you ever come and see me?"

On the drive down to Sea World on Sunday, I called up my folks.

“Hey Mom, how come we never went to Sea World?”

“We’ve been to Sea World.”

“I haven’t been to Sea World.”

“Yes you have.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, well, we probably went after you stopped going to Florida with us.”

“Why didn’t we ever go to Sea World though? Busch Gardens bites*.”

(snicker)”Oh yes! You poor unfortunate child who never got to go to Sea World!”

“I know! That’s what I’m saying!”

We got to Sea World San Diego at about 11 AM Sunday morning. By 11:45, we were actually parking. 45 minutes line-standing later, we were actually inside the park. Unfortunately, at that point we were really hungry, so we stood in yet another line for 20 minutes to get a crummy $7 sandwich. We were beginning to wonder if we had made a mistake coming here. This was only intensified after I lost my digital camera after an hour of walking around.

I am pleased to tell you that someone did turn in my camera and that the park got a lot more fun from there. The fun actually started at the dolphin show. We sat in the ‘Soak Zone’ but purchased $6 ponchos. Pretty freakin’ expensive for a piece of plastic but well worth it; the only thing that got wet were our sandals. The ponchos also came in handy for the Shamu show, the Atlantis ride, and as general warmth when it started to get cold later in the day.


Believe it or not...Not the gay-est man at Sea World.

"Weeeee!"

After the dolphin show we saw Shamu. Or the orca who is now claiming to be the original Shamu. We also pet the bat rays, feed the ducks, went through the aquariums, saw the 3-D movie and other amusement park related things. It was a really good time. 15 minutes before the park closed we rode the Atlantis log ride\roller coaster…twice. Does everyone know what a log ride is? My only reference to the log ride is from Six Flags Great America in Chicago. They have the log ride there…. and a boat ride. The only difference is that the one is shaped like a boat and the other a log. I always preferred the log ride to the boat ride. Maybe it was the whole looking like a big piece of crap floating along.

Orca formally known as 'Tim'. You can call him Shamu.

Anyhow, most people have been to Sea World before so I’m hesitant to describe it that much. I will however, mention the Platinum Passport.

On Thursday when I bought the tickets, I debated with myself for awhile whether or not I was going to get the regular $56.00 one day ticket (with free Fun Pass upgrade) or if I would just go balls out and get the Platinum Passport at $164. I ended up getting the Platinum Passport and it was awesome.

Bat Ray

Not only was parking free and the guest pass for Kevin was free, but we got a 20% discount on everything else in the park, including the gift shop and beer. Not only that but anytime there was a line for a ride or show, all we had to do was show the passport and we got to skip everyone in line and walk right in. There is some debate on the ethical nature of paying more to get line-jumping privileges. I believe I have complained about it myself when I wasn’t the one who got to line jump. But now that I’ve experienced it, I’m all for it. Just saying.

Hey, has anyone else realized how many boat\sea\water related things I’ve done for this blog? I need to go inland I think.

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*By the way, I don't actually think Busch Gardens bites. In fact, it's pretty neat. I just said that to be difficult.

YouTube! - Midweek Lame Entry

So I’m a little bit slow on the whole YouTube thing. YouTube has been around for two years and I’m just now getting around to setting up an account and figuring out how to transfer and edit my videos. Yes, I’m that lame. To celebrate my lameness, I’m posting the lamest video ever (outside of the hours upon hours of video of my cat which I took when my video camera was new and I had nothing better to film).

This was shot during my trip to Wisconsin last September. The video is of Andy’s Dogs. The video is aptly entitled ‘Andy’s Dogs’ with a very detailed description of ‘Andy’s Dogs’. (Tags: Andy, Dogs).

By the way, no one is more annoyed than me hearing myself say "who's here? who's here?" in a childish voice.

Enjoy!

Orchid Show - Costa Mesa, CA

Because of the rain that was supposed to fall on Saturday, I searched for an indoor thing to do this week. This posed a problem for me as I didn’t know of many indoor things to do that I haven’t done already (like movies, ice skating, munchkin tossing (they’re small), etc). Saturday morning I stepped outside to our patio and noticed the prettiest weed I’ve ever seen in my life. And I say ‘weed’ as it’s coming out from a crack in the pavement and I certainly didn’t plant it myself. It could be a flower for all I know, and if someone does in fact know, go ahead and email me.


Weed or plant? You decide.

Regardless, this weed\plant was the inspiration I needed to head to the Orchid show at the Orange County Fairgrounds.



I had believed that an Orchid show would be, obviously a bunch of orchids, but I also thought that there would be demonstrations. You know, like how to take care of an orchid or the history of orchids through time, or why the orchid is similar to a porn star but charges less-just…something. But no, it was just orchids. As I said to my friends after the fact, “It wasn’t really an orchid show so much as it was an orchid store.” A store that charges you $4.00 to walk in and look around that is.



I hadn’t made it past two booths before I was accosted by an orchid salesperson. Thinking that I wasn’t going to get much information looking at price tags, I picked his brain. I got to tell you, these people are really into their orchids.



Things that I have learned about orchids from the sales person who was really into orchids:

• Orchids are sensitive to cold and heat. Do not put your orchids in the freezer or oven if at all possible.
  
• Some orchids need to be watered everyday. If you go on vacation, make sure to book a second ticket for your orchid and the specialized greenhouse you have constructed from a plastic milk carton and scotch tape.
  
• Some orchids will only bloom once or twice a year. The rest of the year you will loathe your orchid for being so ugly and unwilling to ‘put out’.
  
• Different orchids have different history. Some samurai warriors liked orchids and would go on dangerous missions to collect them. We don’t hear about these samurais as they were killed while doing other dangerous missions like scrapbooking and basket weaving.
  
• The awesome looking orchids are actually hybrid orchids and are not as well respected as ‘natural’ orchids. This is similar to the ‘natural’ Ford Escort not respecting the Hybrid Toyota Prius while it’s cruising along at 80 mph in the carpool lane (with only one passenger!) while the Escort is stuck in traffic.
  
• If the weather is warm enough, you can water your orchid at night. The orchid will not mind having his feet wet when he goes to bed. You will try not to laugh when an orchid salesperson says ‘having his feet wet when he goes to bed’.

I felt a little guilty for not buying an orchid after all that. But man, talk about high maintenance!



After my little chat, I cruised around the rest of the show. That took approximately 15 minutes. I ended up leaving and headed over to the swap meet next door. Since I wasn’t working the swap meet, I was able to shop. I bought socks. Yep, one whole square mile of shopping bonanza and I got socks. And they weren’t even for me.



By the way, it never did rain on Saturday.

Whale Watching - Newport Beach, CA

Hello Hello. Welcome to the 2nd week of February 2007. February IS the shortest month but yet the hardest to spell. Am I the only one who always screws up February by spelling it Feburary? I tend to cheat with ‘Feb’ as much as humanly possible. Thank Gates or whomever for spell check (boy howdy).

But you didn’t come here for my ungodly spelling mishaps, did you? Well then, moving on…

As the title suggests, I went whale watching this weekend. I had planned on doing a whale watching outing as a new event since December (an easy to spell month if you ask me) but never got around to it. Mostly I had assumed (enter ass-you-me joke here) that the only port that did whale watching close to me was up in Long Beach near the Aquarium. Silly, silly me. A quick search of the Almighty All Knowing Orb (a.k.a. the internet) proved me quite wrong. There is not only one but TWO companies that do whale watching a mere ¾ of a mile from my place of residence. Huzzah Me!

Kevin and I ran into our friends, Andrea and Roland (and their wee child, Oliver), the night before and they were more than happy to accompany us on our outing. Little children love boats. And fish! Unless they don’t, like the children who for whatever reason cry when they see Santa. Weird, strange children. But not Oliver! No, Oliver likes boats and fish and fishing rods oddly enough. I didn’t ask him on his take of Santa.

Due to an oversight of time, we almost missed our whale watching boat. But thankfully the people at the Newport Landing were kind enough to hold the boat for 5 minutes while we got our party together even though they did scowl a bit about it.


Area code '949' if you're interested.

The trip was around 2 and a half hours total and cost $25 per person. They promised that if we did not see a whale, or at least a dolphin, they would refund our money. To ensure that this would not happen, they immediately took us to a location 2-3 miles out in the Pacific where the dolphins were happily playing.

And it was really cool.



I’m going to stop the story telling at this point to tell you a quick story that Roland told me. Again his sentiments reflect my own. So I quote (badly) Roland who said, “My parents went whale watching once and showed us the pictures. Basically it was, ‘Here is where the whale WAS’ and ‘Here is where the bird WAS’ and ‘Here was where dolphin WAS’.” This is very true. I’m tempted to upload the 15 pictures I got of “Dolphin was here” shots. But I won’t. You can thank me later.


Dolphin WAS here. Oh wait! There it is...kinda.

After the dolphins we moseyed on further south. We eventually saw the spout of a grey whale but never the picturesque scene of the whale tail sinking into the water. The most we got was a quick glimpse of a back or stomach or something grey-matterish and that popped out of the ocean for a half second. I’m happy with that. After stalking the whale for an hour, we headed back to the dock. Roland and Oliver braved the cold and sat on the bow of the ship for the journey. Andrea and I went inside the cabin where we made a verbal wager on who the men’s bathroom door was going to smack into next.



By the way, if you do go whale watching this time of year, remember that although it may be close to 80 degrees where you are (sorry Midwest!) the ocean is no place for sandals and shorts. Oh sure, you may be all comfortable on shore but at sea you’re going to freeze your ass off. Just saying.

For yet another boat related new thing, this was all right. The dolphins were excellent; the whale…not as exciting due to limited visibility but still cool, and the trip itself was fun. I wouldn’t be opposed to going again, especially if I had a guest in town.

Building a Model Car - Home Entry!

After bitchin’ and complainin’ about money in last week’s entry, you had to know that this week would be a home entry, didn’t you? I thought this time I would take my mad skillz (I have no idea who has taken over the little dictionary in my brain but I think I want to kick their ass) out of the kitchen and into the living room for a little hobby-in’. On Thursday I stopped by the craft warehouse by my place of employment looking for some inspiration. I’ll have you know that before the model car that is this week’s new thing, I almost brought home a ‘make your own yarn booties’ kit. (Because, really, it would be pretty damn funny). But alas, I stuck to my gut and got the model car as I knew Kevin would probably be excited to help.

And he was! Never being a young boy like Kevin has, I never had the inclination to build a model. Kevin, however, has built quite a few in his day. I like his stories of trying to be quick in building the model just so he could play with it. And some weird story about just breaking the propeller off right away…I don’t know, guess you’d have to have once been a young boy.

So….let me introduce you to the 1968 Shelby GT- 500. Or the box that contains the parts to a 1968 Shelby GT-500.



Kevin had warned me not to get my hopes up on what the picture on the box looked like compared to what I was actually going to build. Apparently the car pictured on the front of the box is air-brushed and put together by a hundred 5-inch munchkins who’s sole job is working at the Shelby GT-500 factory at 32 cents an hour. I guess most of the munchkins are over 300 years old but from what I gathered, that’s pretty young for a munchkin.

But yes! I was talking about ME building a model.

The very first thing I noticed while building this car is that there are a lot of freakin’ pieces. The 2nd thing I noticed is that the instructions aren’t really that clear. And the very last thing I noticed was that my car would never be as nice as those damn munchkins!


I just realized I was using the Obits to do this. (forshadowing, no?)

Per Kevin’s instructions, I began with painting the pieces I knew would take a while to dry. After the 2nd coat on the body of my model I realized that Kevin is pretty damn smart and that the enamel that you use to paint models is a lot like nail polish. I didn’t think those things at the same time by the way. But yes, nail polish. And here I went and bought a tiny vial of enamel thinner when I have an almost full bottle of Sally Hansen Nail Polish Remover in the upstairs closet!


Huh?

After painting some of the pieces, I build the engine. 3 hours later I said, “a-ha!” and Kevin dragged me out of the house for lunch. I really didn’t think this project would take so long.

When we got back I started on the chassis. This is really the point where I got frustrated, starting with the tie rod that didn’t seem to go anywhere. I think the tie rod was suppose to magically float around the body of the model in some mystically fairy-type way. I innocently asked Kevin if I really needed a tie rod and without waiting for him to answer, I threw the piece away. In retrospect, this may be the reason why my tires keep falling off, but oh well.

At Hour 7 the body of the car was ready to make sweet love to the chassis. In my excitement I kind of jammed the whole thing together, which caused two tires and the rear view mirror to come off. I persisted my jamming technique only to come to the conclusion that I broke something and that the body and chassis would never come together as one as designed. Talk about not finishing! I put the tires and mirror back on with a half tube of glue and called it a night. The model came with cool looking decals but my patience had been depleted and I ended up just tossing them out. Sorry Shelby GT-500! Sorry munchkins!



All in all, I enjoyed making the model during Hours 1 – 4. I think if I attempt this again, I’ll build it over the course of a few days instead of just one.

This picture, by the way, is the glamour shot of my Shelby GT-500 and my little buddy, Arlo. (Beth should remember Arlo well).


Arlo looks to the future without munchkins!

Ah, sweet paycheck! Out of the house again next week!

Orange County Museum of Art - Newport Beach, CA

A few precursors to this week’s new thing:

Number one: When I first started the new thing every week, I never actually factored in the cost of doing it (a.k.a. True Cost). Honestly, the true cost never really crossed my mind for an iota of a second. And when Kevin reads that last sentence I promise you he will be nodding his head and rolling his eyes in absolute agreement. Obviously doing new things usually involves going places, and driving places, and spending a few Washingtons in the process. With that said, I have been searching around for cheap new and even better, free things to do. This is how we ended up at the Orange County Museum of Art on a Thursday night for what was described on their website as a "contemporary after-hours scene" of the Orange County Museum of Art, including a live DJ.

Number two: Not all new things turn out to be good new things.

The website stated that the mingle\music started at 7 PM on Thursday. We got there at 7:15 and noticed that the ‘museum’ was really a ‘well lit hall’ and that not too many people showed up. We also noticed that we were severely underdressed compared to everyone else in our jeans and sweatshirts. The biggest thing we immediately realized was that the museum wasn’t actually open…. and according to the front desk personnel, wouldn’t be for another few weeks. What we were attending was apparently a fashion show\fashion design competition\live DJ (which was a older man in a plaid flannel and trucker hat).


Well-lit hall

Yeah, Kevin wasn’t very pleased, and neither was I to tell you the truth.

We did spend some time in the museum’s gift shop which I find funny was open when the actual museum was not. But, whatever.


$50 art puzzles anyone?

We stuck around long enough to see a few models, have a glass of wine, convince the local radio station to give us a free t-shirt, and for me to take close to 20 not-very-well-lit photos of nothing in particular.


Enter in your own "I'm too sexy" joke here.

Then we went to Ralph’s. I took a couple photos of the cashiers at Ralph’s just to be obnoxious. The cashier on the left asked us where we were from as obviously no one local would take a picture of the inside of Ralph’s if we weren’t from out of state. They looked disappointed when we told them we lived across the street.

Warning kids! Ralph's checks IDs. And will evil-ly smile when doing so.

So all in all, this week’s new thing was a thumbs down. However, we did end up having a great weekend doing a whole bunch of been-there-a-hundred-times-before things like dinner at Mother India, brunch at Woody’s Wharf, pool at Balboa Saloon. I even cleaned the house.

I’m still not sure what’s on the agenda for this upcoming weekend but I think I’ll avoid anything with ‘fashion’ and ‘free live DJ’ for now.

Have a great week everyone!