As if bloomers do anything anyway

You'd think, if I remembered to pack up all of our clothes and stuffed animals, the DVD player and some videos, everyone's favorite animals, necessary medicines, entertaining books, and three different kinds of snacks for a simple night away, that I would also remember the pile of clothes that we needed to put on after swim class. The one that I gathered first thing and set by the door. After all, I've been going to swim class with one of the kids for almost three years. Right. Instead, I wound up at swim class with a pair of bloomers. Not much you can do with a pair of bloomers, really.

California Waking

We're back from visiting family. It's not really a vacation, per se, but we did manage to see almost everyone we needed to see. There was much hugging, small talk, and kid-appreciation. Not to mention sitting, video watching, and fried food. We are from the midwest, after all.

I feel fortunate that in a trip that included an emergency landing (note to pilots: if you decide to make said landing after we in the cabin smell smoke, pleasepleaseplease tell us before you turn the plane and head us downward. Communication is good) and the stomach flu (not ours, thankfully), we made it through without a scratch. Most significantly, we discovered that our little babies have become, quite under our noses, little people. They walked everywhere, spoke to everyone (politely, too!), listened to instructions and managed to follow it, ate all their meals, slept in all those strange hotel beds, and generally acted accordingly without one measurable tantrum. I even caught M using his little airplane napkin for a coaster. His sister had already leaned back and fallen asleep, absolutely on her own.

We made plenty of happy memories too. M had his first go-kart ride, and he discovered popcorn shrimp. K showed her Baby Jordan all around the airport like a doting mother, and she pooped in the big girl potty for the first time (for a potentially potty-training parent, this equals happy). And we all got to sample Kansas City barbecue, which, in my opinion, has nothing on Memphis barbecue (what? You didn't know there were different types of barbecue? You poor, poor soul).

Best part? You guessed it: being back home. In California. With all that blue sky, palm trees, and warmishness. Sigh.

Preparedishness

We are quick approaching a trip to visit family, which will take us to somewhere coldish. This means somewhere cold to us, but pretty much average to the rest of the country. In final preparations for this coldishness, I've discovered a few things:

1) Elsewhere in the country, people have already bothered buying fall clothes. I have not. This means that although M's 3T highwater jeans will be very handy in the event of rain, they are not warmish anymore.

2) K has no shoes she can wear with socks. She does have six different types of shoes not suitable for socks, as well as flip flops that match the rest of the family. I'm so glad to live somewhere where this oversight is still not noticed come mid-October.

3) I don't have shoes I can wear with socks either. That's a lie. I have one pair. They're very not waterproof, which won't help for the inevitable rain. I also have running shoes, which are one size too small after being through a wet cave in Belize and then heat-dried on a generator (I didn't have to give you that reason, but I wanted to. The memory makes me smile). This doesn't bother me since I don't actually run.

4) I also don't have any sweaters, at least none that still fit. Didn't actually wear sweaters last year. I'd buy a new sweater, but all the ones I find have rabbit hair or wool, both of which make me itch. Badly. I find it ironic that in a place where you can make it through a whole winter without wearing a sweater, the only sweaters you can buy contain wool. Isn't that overkill?

4) Target is a lot less interesting when you go there twice a day every day buying various things to prepare for the coldishness of a trip you aren't really excited about and will only take you away from a resurgence of California warmishness.

5) I like the words coldishness and warmishness. I just much, much prefer the actuality of warmishness. Living in California rocks.

Eighteen Random Things I Learned on Vacation in Belize

1) The mosquitoes, heat, and rain were all grossly exaggerated. The dirt roads, sand fleas, and humidity were not.
2) The national animal of Belize is the tapir. If you've ever seen a tapir, this should tell you a lot about Belize.
3) Conch has a texture like shredded tire tread. All the curry sauce in the world will not change that.
4) When someone tells you that you can walk through the water on the left or swim on the right, he's only talking to the tall. People my height will quickly discover that you will swim either way.
5) Spider monkeys don't look like spiders, nor do howler monkeys howl. It sounds more like the death moan of a toad, and it carries for a long way.
6) The Prime Minister of Belize just drives around in a regular car, and everyone knows what it looks like. This should also tell you a lot about Belize.
7) When you console your insomnia by going outside at five AM to watch the sunrise, you will, sadly, have missed it by a good half hour.
8) The fact that neither tarantulas nor scorpions are poisonous doesn't make them any less creepy.
9) You know a country's friendly when the little Guatemalan girls stop peddling their banana cakes and politely ask for a piece of your chocolate instead. And for the record, Guatemalan chocolate is just cocoa and sugar mashed together in a cake.
10) A Long Island Iced Tea contains a crapload of alcohol. That's a technical term, or at least it is after you've drank one.
11) You don't want to know how many spiders are really out in the jungle, especially when you spot them by their little glowing eyes. Imagine all the stars in the sky laid out at your feet. Now put eight long legs on each of them. Yech.
12) Raw chewing gum is nasty. Unless you like crumbly fermented bits. In that case you'll find it delightful.
13) A nurse shark doesn't feel at all like the touch and feel books. It's more like sandpaper.
14) Your transfer driver might look like a seventy-nine year old retiree, but he could also be a decorated officer and former vice-mayor. Again, this should tell you a lot about Belize.
15) When they tell you to continue your hike in your socks so as to preserve the countless Mayan artifacts lying all around you, they're actually serious. You can also count on never wearing that pair of socks again.
16) You apparently don't throw toilet paper into any toilet, flush or not, in Guatemala. There's a trash can for that. And whatever you do, don't look in that trash can.
17) There are also a lot less standards for safety in the third world. You might climb to the top of an enormous ancient Mayan temple to discover that there's a narrow three foot ledge without any bars or wires to keep you from falling to your death. This is information that might be useful to a person scared of heights, preferably before she climbs all the way to the top.
18) You always know you're in for an adventure when the guide brings a machete.

Home in body, if not in mind

I realized the other day that it had been two weeks since we returned from the most fabulous vacation ever*. But I kept thinking, There's something I'm forgetting. Oh yes, the blog. The one with the effusive pre-vacation build up. Right.

*Certainly you think I might be exaggerating. I am not. I have taken a lot of vacations in my life. I have never had one go so perfectly. Ever. We did everything we wanted to do, never had one bad day/meal/experience, and were even ready to go home. That was when all the trouble started.

See, things have been a bit crazy here what with the grandmother dying and the sister visiting and the laundry accumulating and the novel I've been unofficially writing and the friends who just keep popping out babies. You'd think this would give me a lot to write about. And it does. Too bad I'm just not writing it**.

**For the record, it's because I am writing other things. Wasn't that the whole purpose of this blog? Except now I'm having to write both, which plays out like a tug of war for my keystrokes. When you only have maybe an hour a day, that's a pickle.

But I'm firing up the burner again. I promise. It just has to heat up a little before anything actually gets cooked***.

***This metaphor really makes no sense. I'm out of practice! I'm bouncing from war to pickles to cooking! I'm also making excessive use of the asterisk, the exclamation point, and italics. But I'm posting. Doesn't anyone get an A for effort anymore?

How I'm preparing for my summer vacation

1) Clean house. Because no one wants to come home to a dirty house.
2) Clean stove, microwave, and all those nooks and crannies of the counter. Well, I don't clean that much, so if I was already cleaning...
3) Buy various necessities for trip.
4) Buy a bunch of new makeup while purchasing said necessities. Even though it's not a necessity, and in fact is probably not something I will even want to wear when hiking/swimming/relaxing. But I'm going on vacation!
5) Buy hiking pants.
6) Buy lots of other new clothes to go with hiking pants.
7) Realize that nothing makes hiking pants look cute, but keep new clothes anyway. I'm going on vacation!
8) Prep kids for their "vacation." Panic a little when K responds firmly, "Me. Cry." Buy a couple extra movies to keep them happy.
9) Begin having extra scoops of ice cream at night. We all know I'm going to gain weight anyway.
10) Pick garden. Give garden a very firm talking to about its rate of production. Remind it to be kind to the people taking care of it. Tell the corn not to ripen while we're away (which is a bluff, since we all know I have no idea when to pick corn anyway).
11) Obsess about how much DEET I'm bringing. Resist urge to buy more DEET because it's not like I'm going to a third world country.
12) Panic again when I realize I have no idea if the country I'm going to is in fact a third world country or not.
13) Log on to the internet, and learn not only what level of the world the country is, but also that it feels like 104F at 7:30pm.
14) Return all clothes. Buy another bathing suit, one of those clever misting fans, and a gallon of sunscreen.
15) Realize that the extra scoops of ice cream might have been a little premature.
16) Buy a larger cover-up, and two more tubs of ice cream. Because I'm going on vacation!

Seriously, can you tell I'm excited? And a little frenetic? If I thought I needed the vacation before this week, I most certainly need it now. And it's not even vacation time yet. But closer!