Cruise Review Part One

So!  I'm back from my cruise!  Didja miss me?  You know what I think the best part of a cruise is?  The anticipation!  All that daydreaming about lazily cruising past gorgeous scenery, sipping the drink of one's choice, relaxing with family and friends and waiting for the next delectable meal....doesn't that sound heavenly?  Yup, that's as good as it gets.  Right there.  In your mind.  The reality of a cruise is somewhat different.  I don't mean to bellyache or carp (oh, how I crack myself up!), so let's just say that I got the whole cruise thing out of my system.  There are many fun things about a cruise, but most of them don't really mesh with my personality.  For example, I don't like large crowds of people.  Or drinking until I pass out.  Or losing money in a smoky casino.  Oh, and then there's my phobia of deep water (Which I'm pretty sure started when I first saw this book cover.  And yes, the shark is scary, but what really freaked me out was how deep the water was.) 

We went on a Royal Caribbean cruise and the boat itself was fine.  Lots of things to do, lots to eat, helpful friendly staff, and even the stateroom wasn't oppressively small with all four of us in it.  And Alaska was certainly beautiful with many forested hills, waterfalls, and fog.  Lots and lots of the best Alaskan Fog.  Possibly there were other things to see besides forested hills.  Maybe some wildlife?  While we did see a handful of bald eagles mostly we saw....fog.  Low-lying fog, mountain-obscuring fog, unbelievably low-ceiling fog.  You know what they do when there's fog?  Blow the foghorn.  You know what my kids hate?  Loud noises.

For the most part, our land excursions were fun and were time and money well spent.  David caught a salmon, I went on a glorious whale watch (that will merit its own post), we rode a train from Skagway, Alaska up over a mountain pass and into Canada that was breathtaking (despite the fog), and had a chance to wander around Victoria, British Columbia. 

We only had 2 full days at sea during the week, but let me tell you something.  You hear all the time that a cruise ship is so big that you can't feel the motion.  It's so smooth, they say.  Like a gentle rocking motion if you feel it at all.   Those people are LYING BASTARDS.  The first night, we encountered seas technically classified as "rough".  This translated to the ship pretty much bouncing through the ocean at semi-regular heart-stopping intervals.  I spent most of the night clutching Ritu's arm and whisper-screaming "We're going to die", waiting for the distress alarm to inevitably sound, and mentally rehearsing the best way to pluck Juliana from her bunk, dress her in warm clothing and a life jacket, and stagger to our muster station.  (It didn't help that HBO practically had Titanic on a continuous loop reel this month.  Did I mention my deep water phobia?)  

By the grace of God, we made it through that night but awoke to the boat still a'rockin'.  Within ten minutes of awakening, Juliana started to cry because her stomach hurt and she she had "a bad taste in her mouth that she needed to spit out".  Thinking fast, I commanded her to Go To Daddy where she promptly threw up on his foot.  This was 14 hours into the cruise, people.

Seeing her throw up freaked out David.  I dosed everyone with Dramamine (Don't leave home without it!) and as the morning dragged on, they both perked up nicely.  The same could not be said for much of the rest of the ship.  Somewhere around lunchtime, we suddenly noticed that barf bags were now affixed in portable holders to railings on the stairs.  The rocking was slightly better in the center parts of the ship, so walking through the large Centrum area found every couch occupied by a figure curled in the fetal position, pale, with eyes squeezed shut. 

Just think.  Thousands of dollars spent for a ride from hell with no way out.  What could be better?  Ritu overheard one woman at the purser's desk demanding to be let off for good when we docked in Juneau.  Apparently international immigration laws don't allow you do that, even if you are an American citizen.  You can imagine how well that went over. 

Much more to say, but I'm way too tired.  Tomorrow I'll try for  a post that doesn't mention nausea or vomiting even once!

Tidbits

On Friday we're leaving for a week-long Alaskan cruise to celebrate Ritu's parents' 40th anniversary.  It's been in the works for months and months and the excitement level is high.  True to form, Juliana got sick today.  So far the symptoms are: headache, fever, and of course, stomach ache.  Does this child EVER get sick without it affecting her stomach? (I thought about linking you to the previous posts about Pukiana, but I don't have all damn day.)  I asked her if she wanted me to put the bucket next to her bed tonight and she said yes.  <sigh>  When you read in the news about a cruise ship overrun by the Norwalk Virus, remember you heard it here first! 

*****

I'm updating some links on my sidebar.  The Comics Curmudgeon is a blog devoted to the daily newspaper comic strips.  It's spot-on in its observations and consistently funny.  It's also one of those blogs whose faithful commenters add to the entertainment value.  Secondly is a blog called The Sapient Sutler which I've been  reading  for the better part of a year.  It's one I stumbled across by hitting the "next blog" button at Blogspot and I was instantly hooked.  You never know if the author, Chance, will be sharing a funny story from his work, making lists of his favorite poetry and music, or reflecting on the state of his personal life, but you can count on it always being literate and absorbing.

*****

We gave up on the For Sale By Owner adventure and have now signed with a realtor.  It had been our plan all along to turn things over to a professional if we hadn't sold it by this point,  but it's been a painful process nonetheless.  It turns out that we have amazing powers of which we weren't aware!  Why, for instance, as soon as we put our house on the market, things like this and this started to appear.  I can't even begin to tell you how much I hate trying to sell this house and how much I hate being at the mercy of buyers and realtors.  I'll save you paragraphs of my wah-wahing, but my hatred for humanity grows with each passing day.  (Oh, I am going to be an absolute joy crammed on that cruise ship with thousands of my closest friends.)

*****

My dear, sweet David is going through one of those disequilibrium phases that makes me consider boarding schools and retroactive birth control.  He just turned nine and he's perfecting his pre-adolescent posturing.  Because we're so enmeshed in eye-rolling, sarcasm, and general attitude, it catches me off guard when I see glimpses of  little-boy in him.  The other night, he got out of bed to report with the utmost sincerity and earnestness that he'd read in Sports Illustrated For Kids that Ben Roethlisberger has a DOG.

*****

I've been seeing these flocks of little birds at my suet feeder recently.  I'm pretty sure they're called bushtits, but you couldn't pay me to google that. 

*****

David went to Ritu's softball game last weekend.  It's co-ed team that's been a neighborhood tradition for nearly 15 years.  After the game David gave me a wide-eyed play by play which included this exchange:

David:  Daddy got a hit and went to first base and then he went to second when the next lady got balled all the way to first base. 

Me (trying not to howl): That's called getting walked.

Happy Birthday!

Sunday was Ritu's birthday.  We celebrated by spending the weekend in Seattle connecting with old friends and taking the kids to see the Mariners play the Tigers.  Much fun was had by all.  But since we were traveling, there was no opportunity for birthday cake.  And if you ask me, birthdays don't count unless there is cake involved.  In a pinch, an ice cream cake counts, but generally it requires cake with that good artificially colored lardelicious frosting that they make at grocery stores. 

To remedy this, I took the kids to Winco on Monday to get groceries and a cake.  Winco has the cheapest groceries in town.  It's a completely low budget store.  Their idea of shelving is cutting open the big carton the boxes of cereal come in and slapping it on the shelf.  Also, you bag your own groceries which always seems like a fine plan until it actually comes time to bag your own groceries.  Winco is open 24 hours, so we're not talking the Trader Joe's crowd here, people.  One thing I've noticed about shopping there is my tendency to sink to the lowest common denominator.  Yes, just walking through the door turns me (and my children) into white trash. 

During the glorious summer (current weather conditions: 62 degrees and raining), I am able to spend scads of quality time with my darling offspring.  Seeing as they are 9 and 6 now, a trip to the grocery store is no longer a big deal.  So why is it that I came closer to beating them right there in the cereal aisle than I ever have before? Part of that is the WWTF (Winco White Trash Factor) and  I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little edgy lately, but would it kill them to agree on ANYthing?  I had to make one of them walk in front of the cart and one behind so that they couldn't bicker or touch each other.  They irritated me to the point that I refused to let them engage in our favorite grocery shopping ritual of opening egg cartons until we find a broken egg. 

Somehow, we made it  to the bakery beating-free.  We selected a pre-made 1/4 sheet chocolate cake and I asked the bakery lady if she could write Happy Birthday Daddy on it.   She readily agreed and called the kids over to her work station where she squirted out samples of frosting so they could choose colors.  I leaned wearily on my cart and enjoyed a few rare moments of peace as I watched my children working together in harmony.  I felt so grateful to this kind stranger for providing me with this brief interlude.  She let the kids stay there while she piped the message in blue and yellow (Michigan colors!).  When she finished she replaced the plastic dome and looked up at me with a big smile, clearly seeking my approval. 

Stay in school, kids!

I Could Not Be Prouder! (And Possibly Psychotic)

My sister's book is doing incredibly well!  Right now it's the Number 2 seller on Amazon in their Computer  and Internet category and it's cracked the Top 200 in overall sales.  Also, it got a glowing review from the fellow at Searchenginewatch.com.  (God knows I am at that site CONSTANTLY.  Or I would be, if it weren't so hard to find.)   I think the success has a lot to do with the fact that I took the kids to Border's yesterday and we found Aunt Jennifer's book!  Right there on the shelf!  How cool is that?  There were two copies there so I made sure to pull one out reeeeeeeal far so that people walking down the aisle would see/get hit in the head with it.  Then I took the second copy and walked down to the end cap and placed it right on top of a small display of Search Engine Optimization for Dummies.  If you have a Border's near you, be a pal and go do the same.  Let's face it, nobody likes being called a Dummy. 

In other Cool Aunt News, Ritu's sister Sarah  who is in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin turned in her first grant proposal which received a favorable score and looks to be on the fast track to getting funded!  I'd tell you more about it, but she studies things way more obscure than Search Engine Optimization.  We're not entirely sure what she does, but we think it has to do with building Data's positronic brain. 

And last, but not least, on July 1st Ritu received his official promotion from Assistant Professor to Associate Professor!  This was a long and involved process that required months of preparation and even more monthsof waiting.  It's a huge step in the world of academia and speaks to his level of commitment and service. 

As an added bonus, it comes with a raise which is particularly handy seeing as our house hasn't yet sold (thank you for not asking).  I'm nowhere near the panic point yet, but it will be nice to have this part over and done with.  If it doesn't sell, we've been given various* suggestions:  1) rent it out  2) put in a habitrail tunnel between this house and the new one and use them both  3) have the neighborhood go in together to buy it to use alternately as  a) the neighborhood time-out house  b) the neighborhood party house or  c) the house solely designated for slumber parties. 

* You'll note I never said they were good suggestions.

Have you noticed how perky I am?  All those damn exclamation points?  It's all an act.  I have the kind of PMS that can only be cured by someone dying at my hands.  I almost found the perfect victim(s) yesterday while looking for a parking spot at the mall.  I turned into the parking lot and saw that immediately to my right, a car was attempting to back out of a handicapped space.  To my left was a car waiting for that space.  To continue on my way to find an open parking spot, I would've had to drive right between the two cars.  Seeing as one was actively backing up, I decided the smartest course would be to stop to give it room.  Well.  Apparently that sort of behavior is manifested only by the devil himself.  As I patiently waited for the nice handicapped person to back out, I happened to glance over at the car poised to pull in.  All three of the people in it were gesturing wildly at me to indicate that THEY WERE THERE FIRST.  One actually had the handicapped placard in his hand and was shaking it at me.  The hell?  I couldn't believe they were so hard-hearted as to assume my ACT OF PATIENCE AND KINDNESS  was an attempt to usurp their space.   Idiot bastards.  I began gesturing back as sarcastically as possible while explaining in simple words what I was doing.   Look at me!  I'm waiting here so this car can baaaaaaaaack up and then you can drive your car innnnnnnnto this precious, best-ever, must-not-be-taken-by-able-bodied-do-gooders spot.   I resisted the urge to circle around and mow them down as they exited their car.  (Where's your placard NOW?) 

 

 

Vacation Blogging

Here I am blogging at you from my vacation in Sunriver.  If that doesn't show my dedication to you people, I don't know what does.  Sunriver is a beautiful, relaxing place in the high desert of central Oregon.  There is little to do but sit in the sun, ride bikes, play golf, and lounge in the hot tub.  Each time we come here we rent a house, stock it with our every imaginable snack-food indulgence, make pot after pot of coffee and ratchet down our lives for a week.  The air is hot and smells freshly of pine.  Deer wander between the houses with their fawns bounding behind them. Sitting on the deck, the soundtrack is that of birds chattering and chirping.  Even the kids slow down here, content to color or read or run around outside in the scrubby open space behind the house.  I relax my "screen-time" restrictions with the kids so David gets a lot more Gameboy time.  If he sits outside hunched over it in the fresh air, that counts as healthy, right?

I had big plans to get my shopping done in preparation for this trip, but then I ended up sick all last week.  My main priority was to get a new bathing suit.  Like most women I know, bathing suit shopping is right up there with going to the dentist and I will put off both as long as possible.  The last two suits I bought were both from Land's End.  They make tankinis which are almost universally flattering, if somewhat utilitarian looking.  Seeing as I am, shall we say, a bit well-endowed, utilitarian is about the most I can ask for in a bathing suit.  All those suits with skinny little straps and shelf bras....if I wore one, the neckline would end up down around my waist.   If  I could find one with pneumatic lift, I'd be happy. 

I figured I'd head to Sears and pick up a new version of what I had, but instead I was writhing around on the couch staving off nausea.  I happened to pick up an Eddie Bauer catalog during one of my more lucid moments.  And there, through my feverish haze, I saw it.  A bathing suit with built in DD cups.  All thoughts of illness left me as I beheld this wonder.  I dragged myself to the computer and ordered it posthaste complete with expedited shipping.  From there I prayed it would arrive before we left town.  And Friday evening it did!  I immediately put it on.  It's a one piece made to look like a tankini.  (I believe they call it a "Fauxkini".  How many marketing meetings before they came up wth that one?  "I know!  How about Shamkini?"  )  The bottom layer is what they call their "Miracle Suit" which is code for "compress all your vital organs in the name of fashion".  Putting on the suit required many minutes of yanking and breath-holding.  And that was just to get it over my waist.  Then came the bodice, which did indeed have industrial sized cups.   You know how most bathing suits collapse into a little whisper of fabric when you take them off?   Not this one.  This one remains the exact same shape and size whether or not it is on my body.  Who knew Eddie Bauer had cornered the market on whalebone stays?  

But despite all that, it's a very flattering suit and I'm pleased as punch to have cute little straps for a change.  (If you're wondering, I got it in periwinkle.  If you're wondering if I'll post a picture of myself in it, the answer is no and you're a damn dirty pervert.)

All right, I'm outta here.  Time to brush the bugs off the keyboard and go inside for a snack.

Rambling

It's been a long, sucky week.  All four of us have been sick.  Plus we had house guests for five days.  And all this while the house is on the market.  I could whine and whine for paragraphs on end, but I won't.  Only because I'm not feeling well enough to type it all out.  Not because of any sort of "suffer in silence" mentality.  (When I die, no one will ever say, "We never heard a word of complaint out of her".  It'll be more along the lines of:  "Thank God all that bitching has finally stopped for good".)

Here are some assorted ramblings....

My sister's book is available now!  It's doing really well and has been in the top 100 for computer books on Amazon.  Not bad for the little sister who once pissed me off so badly that I threw a metal dust pan at her head. 

***

Juliana decided yesterday that she was going to try staring at the phone really, really hard and see if she could see who was on the other end.  Do you think this will require pharmacological treatment?

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David's birthday party is tomorrow.  He turned nine last Friday.  NINE!  How is that possible?  He is so cute and funny.  Well, sometimes he's a complete and utter pain in the ass what with the eye-rolling and attitude, but he can be so charming and sweet and just plain hilarious.  He's working a pretty good dry and sarcastic sense of humor which, as you might imagine, is well-rewarded in this family.  We're doing a low budget birthday party in our greenspace with outside games and make your own sundaes. I love that we have the room out back for all these kids to play.  I bought enough ice cream to feed the neighborhood kids as well.  (Doesn't this sound like an idyllic place to live?  Wouldn't you like to BUY MY HOUSE?  Remember when I said moving was like being pregnant?  Here's another similarity I found.  You know how annoying it is when, during your last tri-mester, people keep asking you, "Didn't ya have that baby yet?"  Well, if one more fucking person asks me, "Did you sell your house yet?" I am gonna blow.)

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When you have the stomach flu like I had this week with pervasive nausea and omnipresent gurgling so that the very act of driving a car gives you motion sickness, the last thing you need is a severe case of the hiccups.  Why not just make me jump on a trampoline?  My organs were doing their damndest to escape on their own; they didn't really need that extra help.  I'm talking to you, diaphragm.

It's A Miracle!

Last night Ritu got back into town from a quick business trip.  When he got home, he took five minutes and --get this-- completely unpacked his suitcase.  And then--are you sitting down?--he took the empty suitcase and PUT IT AWAY IN THE CLOSET.  In fifteen years of marriage, I have never known this man to exhibit such behavior.  If this is a side effect of having the house on the market, I'm off to go up the price.