It Just Goes To Show

A forgotten Birthday $50 gift card yielded Little Squirt a Ben10 play watch and an Iron Man robot.

Ben10 watch & Iron Man robot play value = about 2 1/2 hours.

A sweep under the stove to do some deep cleaning yielded a clown nose, paring knife and clarinet. (Don't ask. It must have been from an epic party we hosted in our younger years.)

Clarinet play value = a full week and still going strong.

There’s got to be a lesson in there somewhere. (Other than the fact that I need to sweep under the stove more than once a decade.)

Sipping, Swirling, And A Taste Of Smoke

Last night Super Hubs and I attended a Wine Tasting Event hosted by a local liquor store at our town’s country club. We dressed up and went with some of our dearest friends. And what a night we had! Tables were set up by wine vendors who brought a sampling of their choicest bottles of wine. My friend and I tasted all over the room. We sniffed, swirled, sipped and swallowed from table to table, dumping the leftovers as we went, so we wouldn’t need to be carried out of the place.

I love wines and wine connoisseurs! Each vendor proudly taught us the history of the vineyards, and were quite knowledgeable. We kept a checklist of our favorite wines for future reference. My friend enjoys trying new wines as much as I do, so we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

I usually find wine experts to be chirpy, quirky and fun; one of my favorite people-types. And they were, except for one particular vendor, whom I’ll call Wine Nazi. He wasn’t chirpy or fun, and he was quite offended that I ate a piece of chocolate before trying his pinot noir. He likened it to brushing one’s teeth before drinking oj. I wholeheartedly disagreed. Chocolate and pinot noir is my favorite combo and antioxidant boost! It’s nearly a health drink, for goodness' sake! Wine Nazi was appalled when I asked which was his favorite “sipping wine.” He balked that wine was for drinking with meals, not for merely sipping. Then he rolled his eyes in a pompous kind of way. When I accidentally dumped my wine into his water pitcher instead of the waste bucket, Wine Nazi looked enraged. I thought he was might call for reinforcements to escort me out of the building. I scuttled off to the next table.

Scotch Guy completely made up for Wine Nazi’s rude behavior. Scotch Guy was my favorite vendor of the evening. My friend and I had never tasted scotch, and he was delighted to introduce us to his love. Scotch Guy taught us to take a sip, roll it on the sides of our tongue, and then slowly swallow. He said there would be a taste of smoke at the end. He queried us on our experience. Did we taste vanilla? A smokey pine flavor? A peppery warmth? No, after the initial gagging, I tasted...... leather. And cotton balls. Then.... ivory soap with a hint of..... sweat. And then... pine-sol.... mixed with smokey bacon. Then I gagged again, and spit the scotch into the dump bucket. And then I involuntarily shuddered.

Scotch Guy seemed a bit disappointed at my experience, and so was I. I had been hoping to become a Scotch Drinker! There’s something classic and elegant and British about drinking scotch. I had pictured myself sitting by a fire in a library somewhere in England, regally sipping scotch while wearing an argyle sweater; a large hunting dog dozing at my feet. Dang! I would not become a Scotch Drinker and get to drink Scotch in England. I felt bummed. But Scotch Guy kindly gave us each a free cigar cutter as consolation. I love getting free things! I’ll probably use it to trim down the pretzel logs I buy for Little Squirt’s school snacks. Or I can serrate my new lipstick that comes too pointy.

After all the wine and scotch sipping, my friend and I were famished. We joined our hubbies at the table and gorged on roast beef, cocktail meatballs and bread, then madly tweeted about the experience. After our meal, we visited a few more tables, and then it was time to go home.

Just when I thought my evening couldn’t get any better, I won a raffle! It was a Major Award! I was proudly presented with a paperback book on the history of scotch. I was thrilled! A free cigar cutter and my very own Major Award that I won by myself! It was almost too much happiness to process.

What a night! Good friends, good wine, and a good Scotch Guy. Except for Wine Nazi, it would have been perfect.

Dress With An Anaconda Attitude

Yesterday I went into a store changing room to try on a dress. I have a few dressy events coming up, and I thought it was time to update my formal wardrobe a bit. Things were going smoothly until the dress' zipper was halfway up my back. And then it stuck. It was enormously stuck, much like Pooh in Rabbit’s front door after he had gorged on too much honey. Thankful for my yoga classes which keeps my muscles stretchy and my limbs limber, I reached my arm way back and grabbed that zipper. I gave it a good yank in both directions, about several hundred times. But it would neither go north or south. So I tried a different approach. I attempted to wriggle the dress downward, squeezing in my stomach muscles, but had no luck. Dang! I should never have consumed that extra cinnamon roll for breakfast. I was being punished for my gluttony!

A slight tremor of panic began to creep up my nervous system. I wasn’t into full earthquake panic yet, but I felt a little quiver that would escalate into full-blown panic if I didn’t exit this dress soon. I am claustrophobic, and I began to imagine this dress like a hearty cluster of super-power kudzu that would soon creep all over my body and choke the life out of me. Like an anaconda. “Women Murdered By Plum-Colored Taffeta!” I imagined the headlines.

I took a deep breath, trying not to panic. There had to be a solution that did not involve my death or extreme humiliation! There was no one else in the changing room to assist me in my predicament. I brainstormed some options:
- I could toddle to the checkout like a foot-bound Japanese lady of the last century, point to the price tag and say, “I’ll take this.”
-I could text my 16yo, who was waiting for me in a nearby electronics store: “Emergency! Stuck in dress!! Bring pocket knife and rescue Mom in changing room!” but I knew he’d pretend his phone had been on silent.

I needed to get out! Out of this dress before I had both an asthma attack and a psychotic episode! I was beginning to panic. Think, think, think. What to do? what to do?

Suddenly, a possible solution dawned on me like it was sent down from Heaven. I had one thing in my purse that I carry with me wherever I go. It’s been my lifesaver and hydration-bringer. It has empowered me to face the world on many a day. It is my lip gloss, and it would not fail me now! I took the tube from my purse, reached my arm back, and slicked down the zipper. It moved effortlessly, and I pulled off the dress.

I held my head up as I left the changing room, handed the dress a salesclerk and said, “This dress doesn’t work for me.” Then I perused the store for a little longer and (I am not making this up) bought a cute pencil skirt.

Sinfully Slothful

I get sinfully lazy while on vacation. My body kicks into Relaxation Mode, and with the increased melatonin due to the constant daily sunbathing, I have very little energy to be productive. Plus we’ve been spoiled to death by the lovely maid service. I haven’t had to make my bed in a week. When we get home from dinner in the evening, our shades are drawn, pillows plumped, and the remote is cozily tucked into the corner of a bed sheet. The Turn-Down Fairy visited!

It’s been a beautiful week. I have soaked up every tranquil moment in this beautiful Cabo resort cradled in a hill by the seashore. I have been grateful for the hard-working staff who have been friendly and served us so selflessly. I have relished every delicious meal that I didn’t have to prepare myself. And I have loved spending time with Bro-In-Law and Sis-In-Law whom we thoroughly enjoy but rarely see as they live in Denver.

Tomorrow we fly home, and I look forward to hugging The Teens, whom were absent on this trip. And I’ll jump into autumn a little more rested.

Paint And Peacocks

We had fun painting pottery by the beach pool. I painted a sunflower plate, while Little Squirt splashed color onto a dinosaur bank with great labor, carefully choosing each paint. He later added a dog to his art work. The gentleman who works that area will detail our art with a fine brush, and fire them in the kiln. Today we will pick up our finished pieces and have little mementos of our trip.

Our resort buildings face a coastline with waves that are brutal and without mercy. The Pacific meets The Sea of Cortez, which makes for a strong and dangerous undertoe. Swimming is forbidden. But we’ve walked along the shore and watched the cruise ships sail.

The owner has some exotic wildlife which roam the grasses by our building. Two black swans mingle with two white ones. There is a pair of peacock and several flamingos. Little Squirt has been carrying around a sketchbook all week, and his favorite art subjects are the tame swans. I must read him E.B. White’s, “The Trumpet of the Swan” when we return home.

I’m getting a little spoiled by ordering yummy things poolside whenever I have a craving. The resort makes a delicous virgin Bloody Mary with a strong flavor of lime. I also love their chips with homemade guacamole, and the cute little quesedilla triangles. Little Squirt has discovered a passion for the classic Shirley Temple.

Ahhh....vacation.

Food And Transportation, Cabo Style

We are staying in a sprawling resort, where the colonial Mexican-style buildings are built into a cliff. Our condo is in a building that is 7 numbers away from Bro-in-law and Sis-in-law. There are 5 pool areas and 3 restaurants. Large “golf carts” navigate the tiny cobblestoned roads and hills. To get to any area that is not walkable, we just pick up a phone. Within minutes appears a golf cart and driver, ready to take us wherever we want. Little Squirt thoroughly delights in riding in these golf carts, giggling when the driver backs up toward a precipice. I’m certain we will be dumped over the edge!

I love food. Have I mentioned that before? I especially enjoy local cuisine prepared by a chef and consumed in a distinctive ambiance. Such as seaside, por favor. We ate lunch on the other side of Cabo at the sister resort on Saturday. We sat at a beachside restaurant on and watched a cruise ship pass by which made my quesadillas so much more delicious than eating them at Taco Bell.

Last night we dined outside at one of the resort restaurants, surrounded by hundreds of tiny white lights and a rose-colored sky. I had a taste for Italian, but it seemed so wrong to eat ravioli in Mexico, so I had the Chilean sea bass instead. At least Chile is on the same continent.

Tonight we will eat in our condo and dine on frozen chicken strips, microwaved with flair. Little Squirt has undiscriminating taste, and it’s his dinner pick tonight. (Sigh.)

Cabo San Lucas

Sometimes I know undoubtedly that God is head-over-heels thrilled in blessing His children with unexpected pleasures. This is one of those times that I get to be the beneficiary of His goodness.

We are in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. By “we” I mean Super Hubs, Little Squirt and Super Hub’s bro and his wife. Bro-in-law invited us for a week’s visit at his time share in this paradise. This invite came recently, and out of the blue. “Cabo for a week in October?? Why, sure!” We have our own stunning condo with its immense balcony that overlooks the tri-pool are and mighty Pacific beyond.

This trip comes perfectly timed after a busy month of work, ministtry and kids’ activities, and some stressful junk. It’s a week to slow down, breathe deeply, soak up the sun and local atmosphere, and regroup. Ahhhhh..........24 hours after arrival and my Type A is heading down the alphabet already.

More later. I’ve got a sunset to catch.