Family Archives - Page 9 of 29

This is Our Vagabond Life

by CrazyUsMay 9, 2015November 2, 2017Family / Travel / Travel Photgraphy / Travel Tips / Travel With Teens

The Boys at the Saint George, UT Starbucks

I am planning our next trip. It kind of goes without saying: I am always planning our next trip. What I am learning as I sit in this roadside Starbucks is that Spring is a hard time for deals. My laptop is plugged in. I am sitting at a very small table, which is next to Eli’s table, which is next to Kyle’s.

We (may) have two weeks to kill before moving into a place. Maybe we will fid a place sooner. We are thinking we will live in Utah for the summer. Wait! Hold up! I know I told you we had moved to San Francisco. We have. Then things happened. We are waiting for news, and in the meantime we are all sick of living in a hotel. Do you realize we have been living in a hotel since January 31? Ok. In truth, we spent the night at my friend Rachael’s, in Dallas on one night in January. Her home was a most lovely stopover on our way to Rome. Needless to say, our suitcases have been packed since January. We are all feeling rough around the edges, and I know it is time to take hold when I suggest simply buying new underwear or Neosporin instead of searching our storage unit for either.

We arrived in rainy, yes, rainy, Salt Lake City late last night. We decided to switch it up and try Salt Lake City’s new downtown Hyatt House. Ok, let me sidebar this post for a second. See, I would hope after staying nearly one hundred consecutive nights in a hotel that we would have learned a thing or two. And here is the most important thing I have learned. After checking in to any place, check the room out first before bringing in your luggage. So at 12:23 AM (give or take five minutes), Dave and I went up to the sixth floor of their “largest” room and immediately saw an issue. The SLC Hyatt House’s one bedroom suite (they call a suite) was no suite at all and had no bedroom. It was a room with a partial divider. Unlike the Emeryville Hyatt House (go Emeryville!) that actually has a true one bedroom (with a separate room and a door that closes), SLC’s Hyatt House completely phoned the one-bedroom. Boo! The very loud music coming from the neighbor’s room was only a secondary reason to exit the building. So with our luggage still in the car, we moved on.

Back in the St. George, Utah Starbucks and back seated at my tiny table, I realize that I have to pee. As I sit there with my full bladder, and look over at my boys, I think about homework on the road. We are all tired and I remember why. Up all night doing laundry. Our Las Vegas Vdara Executive Corner Suite was so large and fancy it had a washer and dryer in the room. Woot! Sure, the Euro-style dryer was a little confusing and took forever. Staying up all night long was totally worth it. I did not have to find a Laundromat.

I am starving. Sitting at my tiny Starbuck table I feel it. As my stomach growls, Eli announces, “I do not want to be here.” I ignore my hunger. I cannot see their laptops. I am not sure if I want to look. I distract myself with Award Travel. I am not having any luck. That happens. So I decide to check out the Points Guy. Dave was telling me just the other day that the Points Guy is sopopular that he 1. has a paid staff now, and 2. apparently makes enough money now that he doesn’t have to use points for hotel stays and just pays cash for really nice places. I log on to his site. Wow. I want to know how to leverage the points I already have. And because we have already signed up for the gazillion credit card deals out there, I am not finding any promising information.

My travel-search-focus is broken. I do not mind. Kyle asks me if I have read “Flatland.” Then he tells me he is reading the book for Biology. “Is it about flat worms in the flatland?” I ask. Later on Kyle asks Dave the same thing. Of course Dave knows that “Flatland” is about a two-dimensional world. When I answer Kyle, he rolls his eyes and stares blankly at me. I love this look, smile, and ask, “Are you giving me teen face?” Of course he is giving me teen face.

Eli wants to go to the car. This Starbucks is loud. I do not blame him. Instead I say, “Dude, this is your time to do homework.”

Maybe I can look into a Youtube channel. My marketing team (Kyle and Eli – hey, do not underestimate the perspective of the teen mind) keeps telling me I need one. I look over at Eli. He puts his headphones back on. I feel for my boys. Our life is disturbed for a reason. We are waiting for news on Dave’s company. Wait or no wait, I know that nothing about Kyle and Eli’s current school life is easy or convenient. I often ignore (cut them some slack) their iFunny and Youtube viewing. When the end of each week comes, they always manage to get their homework done.

As I sit here writing this post, watching my boys, and canceling out the loud coffee shop noises, I believe I have figured out how to set up a Youtube Channel. My Google account links to Youtube. I start setting up my account. I can’t! I am SO distracted by my HUNGER! I had to stop. I literally hear my stomach growl through my noise-canceling headphones. Dave bought the boys non-caffeine Frappuccinos for Frappuccino Happy Hour. They cannot be as hungry as I am.
Moments ago and after Wet-wiping our sticky, coffee-spill covered tables, Dave told me, “It is too loud!” His comment was enough. I stood up, walked around the tiny Starbucks, and found him another spot. As I called him over, of course I had to Wet-Wipe his new table too. Now he is in the back on a conference call. We persevere.

Wait. I see that the Youtube Channel is attached to my non-crazyus email account. I think that means I need to create a new account. Hungry people have done way more than what I am doing now. I will find a way. I must. I am embarrassed to tell you how easy it was. Eli has removed his headphones, and is staring at Kyle’s computer. I look at Kyle’s computer. OMG, he is actually doing homework. Eli yawns and whispers, “I want to go.” So do I. Instead I point him back toward his laptop. Dave taps me on the back. He is done with his call and ready to go. I ask him to wait. While Dave grabs his laptop bag, I ask the boys if they are doing homework. Kyle leans forward and says, “Mom, they are making me read a story I read in Seventh Grade.” He tells Dave then same thing. Dave taps my back again and puts his arm around me. “I am just trying to find one more thing and then we can go.” I say. At that Eli jumps and starts packing up his stuff. As he winds his cords, Dave wanders urgently through the store. I point my right arm in the direction to the bathroom. My hunger slows my brain. “Don’t get h’angry. Don’t get h’angry.” I think. I need to eat. Dave is now sitting down. Kyle announces, “I am not ready. I am in the middle of something.” Eli leans against the window. Dave looks at his laptop. I can only think of my desperately hungry stomach. I take a deep breath. I ask Dave to book us a hotel for tonight and to look for some end-of-May travel deals.

Just this morning I called my mom to check in. “We are in Salt Lake City.” I tell her. I am happy she is glad. “Hey, maybe I should write a memoir about these past three months.” I continue, “I mean, who is crazy enough to take their boys out of school, attempt to move to San Francisco, have the plan change and remain in a holding pattern this long?” Travel rocks. I am glad we yanked our boys out of school. Not knowing where we will land, however, is a little less delightful.

This is our vagabond life.

_____

Sidebar: The three most valuable smartphone apps for a roadtrip: Google Maps, Yelp, and GasBuddy. Gasbuddy is a crowdsourced record of how much gas costs at different stations. It’s easy to find a station selling gas for 10-12 cents lower than gas from stations a block away.

Sidebar: Don’t neglect your AAA discounts. In Utah, the ubiquitous Maverick gas station offers a 4 cent per gallon discount for swiping your AAA card at the pump. AAA is generally worth it for the hotel discounts alone, but this is icing on the cake. Check out your local AAA chapter’s website. There are other gas stations that offer discounts.

Sidebar: Starbucks has promotions, like the current 2 for 1 Frappuchino deal, and many of them are exclusive to Gold card members. You earn gold by buying 30 drinks within 12 months. The most lucrative gold perk is free refills on tea and brewed coffee. I often buy a green iced tea (Venti size for about $2.75) then refill it throughout the day. Once I’ve bought 12 teas, I get a free drink or food item. We usually spring for a sandwich ($5.95). So you spend $33 to get 36+ teas, and get a $6 sandwich for free. Not bad if you’re a green tea addict like I am.

Tagged : Hotel Stays

Palm Springs and Now Vegas

by CrazyUsMay 7, 2015May 26, 2015Family / Travel / Travel Tips / Travel With Teens

We checked out of our hotel a day early. Here is the (hilarious) exchange the front desk guy and I had as I shared our early departure news.

Front Desk Guy: “I want to get this right. So you are saying that you are checking out early because you do not like the snacks in the Club Room?”

Me: “That is correct.”

Front Desk Guy: “Ok then.”

I told him I thought he was cool for not pursuing his line of question, thanked him, I think he tried not laugh, and I did (only a little). Then I walked over to Kyle, who was waiting for me on the hotel lobby couch. I laughed out loud — again. Kyle and I left and walked down the hall. “Should I be embarrassed?” I said, and continued, “I mean, I told the guy we were leaving because of the snacks were not good.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Kyle responded.

“Yes, it is true. We are overwhelmed with the Indian Wells Hyatt Club so we decided to hit the road.” I said.

“I think you should own it.” Kyle suggested.

I cheekily offered Kyle a Valley-Girl-lacking-enunciation-skills example, “Ew, Hy’t umh, liek yourh snas are g’hross.” [translation: ew, Hyatt, um, like, your snacks are gross!]

“No really. Mom, Just say it in a normal voice.” He said in sort of a serious way. Although he was amused, he wanted me to know that any reason is ok. What a great kid! He continued, “Have confidence in your words.”

Before the whole front-desk-guy-snack-exchange Kyle and I spent time roaming the resort. In thirty minutes time we found the villas, Kyle pointed out a lovely grapefruit tree, we roamed onto a dirt path and somehow landed on a path that paralleled the “active” golf course. We were on the path for maybe three minutes, when golf security raced over to us (I did not know the high speed golf cart racing to us was actually being driven by golf security at the time, by the way). He hopped out of his cart, and concerned he said, “You guys stay behind me.” He paused. Looked around, and continued, “Wait until that women hits her ball. Then it will be safe. Those things are dangerous.” We avoided the balls and waited until it was safe. Then we walked back up through trees while admiring the lovely desert landscape, and rounded our way back to the front of the hotel.

In minutes, we made our way back up to the Club Room. We double checked. We wanted to make sure the snacks were lame before we made our decision. It only took one look to know. Yes, the snacks were lame. Sure, if all we wanted was bottled water, juice, tea, coffee, and cans of soda (or is it pop), we would be set. There was also a small nut assortment. They called it the make-your-own-trail-mix area. Regarding the make-your-own-trail-mix area? Where were the chocolate chips and M&M’s hiding? And at the very least, where was the dried fruit? Craisin? Come on. Along with the trail mix, if memory serves me correctly, there were also tiny apples, some nice cookies, and that is about it.

Truth is, it wasn’t just about the mid-day snacks. We had specifically selected this resort because we get free access to the club room, where food is served ’round the clock. Keeping hungry teenagers fed is expensive when on the road, so a good club room can be a great money-saver. That’s why we paid a little extra to stay at a nicer hotel like this particular Hyatt. We’ve stayed at some hotels where the club serves a seemingly never-ending cavalcade of culinary delights. This hotel was not one of those places. After checking in, we stopped by the club for their evening snacks. It was a dish of cobbler and cookies. The breakfast that morning was nice looking, but limited, with a tray of soggy breakfast sandwiches and a strange array of cheeses and lunchmeats. a big disappointment after the great breakfast buffet at the Hyatt in Anaheim. So not being impressed with the mid-day snack started a conversation about how we really had exhausted everything that particular hotel had to offer, and we were ready to move on.

As I grabbed a bottle of water, I fantasized about that one time we tagged along on Dave’s business trip to a conference at the Hyatt Regency in Maui, and consequently one of the work perks was the Hyatt Club Room. Let me tell just say, if you want a good club room, a club room that gives you proper snacks, I suggest Hyatt Regency Maui. No. I have not been asked to review these hotels. If you notice I am putting one Hyatt against the other.

(In theory), as much as we love the Hyatt Regency Indian Wells, CA, and even in spite of the whole snack issue, the lovely, sprawling golf resort is not our speed. My very favorite phrase of this Hyatt-Indian-Wells experience: “Mom, I do not understand why people would build a hotel around a golf course.”

“Kyle, I have no idea, but they sure make a lot of money.” I responded. And of course our conversation led to a protracted discussion about hotel stays, and giving opinions on hotel stays. Ultimately and obviously we both agreed that we should leave the golf resort reviews to someone who actually golfs.

We packed up, and were on our way. After the quickest trip through Joshua Tree National Park, we made our way to Vegas. I think I may have even seen a Joshua Tree. I am still not sure. Between the stress of losing two pairs of shoes, our hours of shared hunger, singing out loud for a very long time, and the setting sun, Joshua Tree could have been anywhere really. Thankfully, we have been there before. And even though it was like eight billion degrees the last time we were there, at least we saw many Joshua Trees and Cholla cacti. I also took many pictures, pictures I will use now so I can simply pretend I saw the same flora and fauna today.

Joshua Tree National Park Today [wink wink]

Now here in Vegas I sit. We are nestled in our hotel, and planning on being here for the next two nights. It is an MGM Brand Hotel (The Vdara), and again our lengthy-hotel-stay-high-status is serving us well. We received a lovely room upgrade accompanied by an awesome Vegas views. The boys think they are in heaven and I am glad to go to bed. Goal today write complete. Good Night! It is 2:36 AM.

____

Sidebar: Hyatt is a partner with MGM Brand hotels. MGM brand hotels will status match with Hyatt and also give you Hyatt points for your stay. Make sure to sign up for both Hyatt’s and MGM’s (M Life) reward’s programs.

Sidebar: You might have to live at the Hyatt like we did to earn Diamond status, but the Hyatt Credit Card gets you Platinum status and 2 free nights at any Hyatt. The United Mileage Plus Club Card also gives you Hyatt Platinum. Unfortunately, Hyatt Platinum is pretty weak. No free breakfast, and the “preferred” room upgrades on offer will not get you the kinds of upgrades they’ve been giving us since we earned Diamond.

Sidebar: Late in the evening and off-season can be some of the best times to see the beauty of the national parks without the crowds. If you like national parks, you should seriously consider an annual pass for $80, which will get you into most federal fee areas. Then do yourself a favor and try to visit as many of them as you can in a year.

Tagged : Hotel Stays

May the Fourth be with You, and Maybe not you, Disneyland

by CrazyUsMay 5, 2015May 26, 2015Family / Travel / Travel Photgraphy / Travel Tips / Travel With Teens

Good thing we did not have any idea how the day would end when it began.

“May the fourth be with you, Kyle.” I laugh and say out loud. Kyle and I are currently leaning against the wall of California Adventure’s Toy Story Mania ride while we wait for Dave and Eli. A sea of Star-Wars-shirt-wearing theme-park goers stream by, which of course prompts me to ask, “Kyle, doesn’t Disney own Star Wars?”

“Yeah.” He responds.

“I thought so.” I say.

And then I ask, “How do you spell, yeah?” (That is really where my thoughts went next and that is really what I asked him.) “Is it, “yah?” or is it, “yea?”

He turns his head toward my ear and slowly utters the letters, “y – e – a – h.”

We both laugh.

Stilling waiting and still overwhelmed with various Star Wars T’s, I still cannot see Dave or Eli. I know they are somewhere in that winy, long line. While thinking of our impending ride, which is basically a moving video game, I say, “Dad always wins Toy Story Mania, (and he did again today — twice).“

“Yes. Yes he does.” Kyle, not looking away from his phone, replies. And because Kyle is about a foot taller than me, once he does look up from all things iFunny, he can see Eli and Dave. ,”Hey look, they are way over there and are a half an hour away,” (more like ten minutes).

Wait. Let me back up. Moments ago Kyle and I walked to the California Screamin’ ride. We were supposed to meet Dave and Eli there. They ran ahead to get California Screamin’ Fast Passes. And after relieving myself I was relieved to hear that Dave and Eli had moved on and were waiting for us in the Toy Story Mania line. As Kyle and I walked to catch up, we both realized and then said out loud that we were a little nervous to let anyone know that we were at Disneyland — again. Truth is we go to Disneyland often, and here is why. We have Season Passes. A friend whose parents live in Southern California recommended buying them years ago. Season Passes cost the same (approximately) as paying full price for three days . This is our second round of Season Passes. And because we happen to be in LA, we thought we should use them before the Summer black out days are starting soon.

So today we are at Disneyland.

And moments before Kyle and I tried to find Eli and Dave at the Toy Story Mania ride, our Uber driver (dude wearing hipster glasses and getting a masters in English), dropped us off at the front entrance to Disneyland. As we neared the end of our trip, he sheepishly announced, “you are my first ride.”

To which Dave boldly responded, “You’ve done well.” To which I wanted Dave to say, “live long and prosper,” but that is a Star Trek colloquialism, not Star Wars, so really not appropriate for May the fourth, right? Instead Dave followed his uber-driver-you-have-done-well with a, “we will make sure to give you five stars.” And Dave quickly followed his fives-stars comment with, “We know how important the ratings are?” Yes. Ratings are what seem to drive humanity. Nevertheless, and kind of an aside, interestingly enough, $4.00 is the total we paid from our Hyatt Regency Garden Grove hotel to theDisneyland front gate. In contrast to the Disney Anaheim shuttle, which is $4.00 a person. And another complete aside, if you’re a Diamond at Hyatt, which we happen to be, because the Hyatt House Emeryville is the hotel we have been living at for enough days to qualify us for Diamond status, stay at the Hyatt Regency when you visit Disneyland. As they say, “we treat you like royalty,” and they mean it. Ask for Keyonna. She is delightful and wise. Be nice to her and I promise she will take care of you.

Back on track and now trying to undo the chain so we can stand with Dave and Eli, in the spirit of the day I hear, “Have you ever had a Wookie cookie?” I hear Dave and the boys laugh, and am too busy thumbing all these words into my tiny phone screen to look up. Then the answer, “They are kind of Chewie.” I am not sure if the additional laughter was true enjoyment or conciliatory, but the next words I heard were chastisement, and those words were directed toward me.

“Scotty relax!” I say in good fun to Scotty, the friendly Disney sweeper, who just chided me for texting instead of paying attention to his chain trick and accompanying joke. What he didn’t realize and why should he, is that I was actually writing his joke while he was telling his joke. “You missed it!” He hollered and then laughed.

We moved on and then I heard Dave announce, “Ok. Seven more minutes.”

“What? Of course!” I respond, because I assume Dave is using an iPhone app to estimate the line time.

“We will see how accurate the line estimate is?” Dave continues.

I turn around and as Dave (gently) swats Eli away, I ask, “Dave, is there a line estimate app?”

“Yes there is, but I have deleted it.” Dave responds.

“How are you estimating the line time?”

“The signs.” He says.

Eli places the yellow plastic pair of 3-D glasses on my head and continues to bump into me. Is it because I am not paying attention, looking down and typing feverishly into my phone? Probably.

We are almost at the front. Thank god Eli wants to ride with me. Dave will win. We all know he will win. Eli puts his arm around me and says, “I am going with mom.” Then he whispers into my ear, “then we can tell Dad you won.”

Somewhere along the way, the ride stops working and the targets for our silly, pull-the-string-to-shoot video game guns stop working.

I tell the Disney lady and she hands us four “re-ride” passes. I am grateful for the do over and I begin to think of all the ways someone can game the system and why gaming the system really takes the joy out of freebies and do-overs. I think of the words I tell myself in these moments, “Be nice. Don’t take advantage. Don’t vulture. Don’t demand! And mostly, do not place the proverbial hair in your food to get a free meal. Bottom line. Do not act entitled and Do not be shameless. The end.”

Literally thinking about my hair-in-the-food metaphor reminds me to ask Dave, “Did you make a dinner reservation?”

“Oh no!” Dave says.

“What’s the restaurant called?” I ask.

“It’s the Cafe Orleans.” Dave responds as he opens the Disneyland website on his phone. We cannot got to Disneyland without Monte Cristos.

“You can tell them you are Gluten Free.” He contines.

“Really?” I ask.

As Dave makes his online reservation, I think of all the haters, and I want to say, “Sure, you can make fun of gluten free people like me. Alas, when you are really Celiac, or as I say, ‘not fake allergic,’ it is a relief knowing that people will accommodate. And in truth, it is awesome to be accommodating even if you are say, simply not in the mood to eat Gluten that day.” I am glad I could tell them gluten free in advance, and yes it made a difference.

Our day continues. We plan on being at Disneyland until 10 PM (like we always do). I sit by Dave for our Toy Story Mania re-ride. The game ends with Dave winning, and me saying, “You’ve never gotten the beaver?” To which Dave says, “I always get the beaver. Sometime I get the cat.”

We find ourselves in Disneyland. In truth we started our day in California Adventure. And as Kyle and I find ourselves walking side by side again from behind we hear, “This is longer than I would wait for a Dole Whip.”Those are the words uttered by the hipster dude behind us, and he says them as he eyes both our Dole Whip and the super long Dole Whip line to our left. Kyle and I laugh. We laugh because we know.

“This is longer than we would wait too.” See, the quickest way to through Dole Whip line is always going in to the Tiki Room turn-style entrance. Outside of the turn-style you may wait thirty minutes, while inside you wait five. You don’t have to watch the show. It is simply another line to the yummy Dole Whip deliciousness.

Ok at this point in our Disneyland day I want our story to continue. We just finished both the Winnie and the Indian Jones rides. I could tell you how hilarious it was to ride that very slow paced Winnie-the-Pooh ride that scared the something out of both boys years ago. And I could tell you about trying to find Dave in the Indiana Jones line. He was racing back from getting Space Mountain Fast Passes. I could tell you how helpful the Disney folks were in reconnecting Dave to us, but I won’t.

Alas, moments after we left the Indiana Jones ride, and did not think twice that Dave was unable to get Space Mountain Fast Passes, we arrived at Thunder Mountain Railroad. The dude said, “this ride is closed.” We thought, “Oh no. Not another broken ride.” And then happily we worked our way over to Tomorrowland, snapping a billion selfies along the way. If we must, we were ready to wait in the long Space Mountain ride. As we walked up to the Tea Cups, a ride we always ride (even though it makes poor Dave sea sick — what a good sport), we heard, “Disneyland will be closed in five minutes,” or was it ten minutes? Regardless, and whatever, when does Disneyland close at 7:30 PM? And why didn’t the many friendly Disney folks warn us? Planet Disneyland was running at full-speed and then it came to a crashing halt.

Disneyland. I am not buying your, “We-only-stay-open-for-spring-breakers excuse. In the future and be warned. Check the hours before going to the park.

Boo! Disneyland! So not cool!

An Ars Poetica to Travel Writing

by CrazyUsMay 1, 2015May 26, 2015Family / Travel / Where Do I belong?

As Eli and I sit in the huge hotel dining room amidst the new construction and amber-colored dangling glass pendant lights, I think about travel. I look around and listen to the sounds. People are traveling here from everywhere. There is the Brazilian family I see each day. This morning they are sitting near the coffee makers. They are laughing as the father butters a toasted bagel. I wonder what is so funny. Moments later I walk through the dining room with a banana-for-my-oatmeal in hand and hear the not-quite-German-sounding voices of three men, who I assume are Russian. As I look at one of the men in particular I am drawn to his obnoxiously printed black and white v-neck tee. The words I hear in my brain are, “I want to go to Prague, (which yes, I know is actually in the Czech Republic, not Russia).” And that is how it always starts. I see or hear something, that gets me thinking and my conclusion is always, “I need to check that out.” This morning it was, “Could I take the boys to Prague the last two weeks of May? Prague is safe, right?” My brain immediately shifts to Miles and Points mode. I literally see the American Airlines online award screen in my head. And yes, it is American Airlines, because they have the most user friendly Awards Miles interface, and I think we have enough AA points saved up to get the three of us to Europe. I see the screen and I think, “How can I make this work?”

Breakfast now finished. I grabbed some mint herbal tea for the road. Hotels always seem to have some brand of mint tea. Today it is Tazo, one of my favorites. As we leave, I stop and tell the lovely Polynesian girl with her big, long ponytail that, “Yes, there is no more Zen Tea. I know. I am always the one who tells you.” She stopped wiping the table and looked up and in her super easy-going-friendly voice said, “thank you.”

“It is our last day.” I said.

“It is?”

“You will not have to hear about the Zen tea anymore.” I laughed.

“Oh no. You are always so nice. We will miss you.” She responded.

“You are sweet.” I said.

“Not everyone is like that.”

“Well thank you.”

She told us to enjoy our trip home as I thought, “she has no idea that we do not have one.”

Here is where I need to stop, and here is where today’s issue lies. Yes, it is no secret that I love travel. I basically told you as much in my fist paragraph. My issue here is that so much of my (past) writing has been solely based solely on working out issues, whether they be fertility issues, mean girl issues, or parenting woes. I feel bad and wonder. Because I have used an online platform to ruminate out loud, has my real passion (travel) been missed? See, I am even doing it now. I am trying to work through how my travel love is watered down when I write.

Don’t get me wrong. Feelings talk is good. And when I talk about my feelings, I process. There is a place for feelings talk when it comes to travel. That being said, I have spent many years writing out the feelings, and what I see is that as much feelings writing I do, I will never have control over how someone else feels about. And what I see and felt in the hotel hallway this morning is that unlike feelings talk, travel does not keep repeating itself. It gets better and it moves forward. It really is an adventure. Ultimately, travel makes me feel possible. I can plan a trip and then I can go. The end.

Eli and I walk in the elevator. “There were more people than usual at breakfast today.” I say. He pushes the elevator button. “I think it is because it is the weekend.” He answers. The elevator stops. The doors open, we exit, and head back to our room. Somewhere between the elevator and our room I think it again. “I love to travel and I love to write.” I think more about writing. Wait. Wait. Hold up. Ok, so before you fall asleep reading this and while I fight the urge to go back to bed myself, can I tell you something? You see, I think I had an epiphany. And in the upheaval of vagabond-living a.k.a. homelessness, an epiphany is something I need. The epiphany happened while I was both rounding the corner and scolding myself. Eli, of course, had no idea I was scolding myself, because the scolding was all in my head.

Ok. Maybe I did not scold. I admonished. I told myself this, “Beth, maybe if you write out all the whiny stuff, you will write about what you really love – travel. And that whole ruminating thing you do, well, that can simply be an entertaining (or not) aspect of your adventure.”

Maybe it was simply something I saw, like a loud black and white v-neck T, or maybe all of this is on my brain because I am helping read essays for a scholarship in his name. Or possibly it is because I thought of him after my friend Jody, emailed pictures of my poems from his Creative Writing and Poetry class. And then there is the whole truth that National Poetry Month ended yesterday. Whatever it was, my very favorite creative writing teacher’s loud German-accented words entered my brain. “Write the garbage out and then you will find the beauty.” Once again I was having my own little Archibald-Machleish’s-Ars -Poetica moment right in our hotel hallway, “A poem should not mean/But be.”

We were almost to our room. As I reached for my key card, Eli grabbed his and said, “I’ve got it.”

Tagged : Travel / Writing

Water Sounds and Feelings Talk

by CrazyUsApril 30, 2015May 26, 2015Family / My Three Cents

Sploosh: The Sound of Something Getting Thrown Into Water

“Shh! Mom, I am venting! You have to do it. So do I!” Eli says as he literally shakes his fists in the air and makes a large growling noise [insert teenage-boy-Muppet-voice here. And yes, it sounds exactly how you imagine].

Wait. Only three sentences in and I feel the need to editorialize and hijack my own post. Hearing the phrase, “vent,” uttered by my teenage son is forcing me to explore feelings talk. Let me explain. See, to my beloved David (and perhaps all men), venting (feelings talking) is simply complaining disguised in lady tears. So after Eli’s Muppet-voiced explosion, I took pause and was reminded that “feelings talking” is not an exclusive task left for your disappointed birthday girl, or your probably-needs-meds-redrum-is-murder-spelled-backwards wife

Now for the double hijack: (Hey, Dave, I want to throw you an additional bone, be a friend and earnestly help you avoid any more of that “feelings talking.” [insert gentle voice here] So, um, Mothers Day 2015 is Sunday, May 10. Here is a very direct (because you know I will ask you to edit this post) head’s up. It would so cool if say a 6” Gluten Free extra frosting City Cakes Carrot Cake landed in our refrigerator. And sure, because we will be back in Utah, a visit to Red Butte Garden or a hike would be amazing. Brunch is a welcome gift, and handmade cards from my sons are a must. I want to teach them to think of others, you know what I mean? Thank you, baby!)

My editorializing complete, I realize that the giant Bose noise-canceling headphones currently covering my ears are not silencing anything. I turn my music louder and see my son’s frustrated face. He has been asked to email his State House Representative. Seeing as how we have neither a state to claim nor a house to live in, I suggested we use our previous address.
“Will you text our friend?” Eli asks. “He knows everything about this political stuff.”

I text our friend knowing that it may take a minute or day to hear back. Eli’s assignment needs our immediate attention.

I Google’d the representative, look at his issues and am as confused as Eli. “Hey, he is a Democrat. That is cool, right?” I am reaching and think maybe Eli should email him and say, “Hey dude, I am glad you are a Democrat.”

I push my headphones off my ears, lean over and say, “Hey Eli, you should. You should email him and tell him you think it is cool that he is a Democrat. I mean, it is Utah, a state with a lot of Republicans.”

Eli looks up, I think he gives me an eye roll, and then solemnly says, “I found something to email him about.”
“What?” I ask.
“Schools. I will email him about schools.”

By the time I ask him, “What are you going to say about schools?” Eli looks at me and says “I already emailed him.”

Assignment accomplished. No blood was lost. Before I finish this sentence Eli summons, “Hey mom what does don’t be dope mean in World War II?”
“What?”
And again before I can process the word, dope, and attach that words to World War II, Eli answers, “Foolish. Don’t be foolish.”

Sploosh!

“That is the sound something makes as it hits the water.”
That is the word Dave told me a few minutes ago when I asked him to give me a word and then asked him to give me a topic. His word: Sploosh. His first topic: Insects of the Amazon basin. His fourth topic (because I told him his first three were too cerebral) feelings. Sploosh. Check. Feelings. Check. Check.

PS. I heart David Adams. Smooch!

Tagged : Feelings

A Birthday Present, Albeit Belated

by CrazyUsApril 29, 2015May 26, 2015Family / My Three Cents / Travel

I have been an up and down all-around roller coaster of emotions for several days. The obvious reason is my birthday. I hate getting older. I love being remembered. I hate worrying about being remembered. I do not like being the center of attention. I do not want to be forgotten. And then there is current reality, which is the fact that we currently do not have a home. Here is where my over abundance of empathy gets in the way. Being weighed down by all the other peoples’ shoes I try to walk in paralyzes my joy. I get swept away in the reality that sure, I may live in a hotel, but I can afford to pay for the hotel. I have a bed to sleep in and clean running water. I was not just blown off a tall mountain or had a roof collapse on my home. I am not fighting for my rights, or worried about losing my home. I just do not own a home, that is.

And here is how this very post began. A couple of days ago, really almost a week, I looked at Kyle and said, “I am giving myself a birthday present.”
“What is it?” He said.
“I am going to write on my blog every week day for a year.”
“That is really cool, Mom.” He responded. “I think you should.”

That was last Thursday. My birthday was Friday. I was in Utah until Monday. Now it is Tuesday, I mean, Wednesday.

Still living our vagabond-hotel-room existence, this week I sit in Emeryville, California. I am staring out the window at the condos across the tracks. And between the condos, train tracks, and me, a billboard sporting a scary cow cartoon face screams the words “The more you know, the more you Clo.” For some reason, I want a glass of milk, which is completely weird, because I am allergic to dairy.

Yesterday, our first full day back in California, I made the boys suffer through a room move. Our non-smoking room reeked of cigarettes and the door separating our two rooms had a broken hinge and would not shut. Doors need to close, especially in small spaces.

Today, Eli’s foot is swollen, possibly broken, as a result of making contact with the hotel door last night. Housekeeping wanted to clean our room so nearly three hours ago Kyle and I deposited Eli in the hotel lobby. We instructed him to call if he needed us, and we let the friendly hotel staff know that Eli was there. Then Kyle and I went in search of lunch. Sick of Rubio’s and also Fuddruckers we made our way to Trader Joe’s down the street.

As our very handsome African American cashier placed our groceries in the bag I provided, (of course because this is California) I could not help but wonder about Baltimore, about riots, about race, and about cultural divide. The Emeryville Trader Joe’s resides between Oakland and Berkeley. I am literally standing on the line between hippies and street gangs (stereotypes included for effect). As I stood in the grocery store line watching our good-looking cashier gently load our shopping bag, I can see my friend’s white upper middle class mom roll her eyes as she asks, “[insert silent “ew” sound here] Emeryville? Why Emeryville?”

Oakland, CA is literally an arms length away. I can probably walk to Oakland in five minutes. Of course I think the changes Oakland has made are super cool, but I also hear the words of a local homeschooling mom ringing in my ears. “Everyone here would kill me for saying this. I live in Oakland and the black people make it hard. There is so much crime and I do not feel safe. If they heard me, they would think I was a racist. I do not think I am.”

Like Baltimore, Oakland has highly concentrated African American population and struggles with the consequences of generational poverty. Dave and I have spent many hours walking and talking about the issues of the day and the intersection of social class, poverty, and race that divides us. When people are oppressed, stuck, or do not know how to move forward, they do what they know. And I think the homeschooling mom was trying to say, “poverty equals crime, right?” It is easy and shortsighted to blame a race, a religion or a gender. And it may even be true that in Oakland, CA, that more African Americans break into cars or shoot people than white people. Why is that? How did we (we meaning all of us) get here?

Our car was broken into. Dave’s friend, who lives down the street, has seen four shootings. As humans, we like to self-segregate, and to be around people who are like us. Coming from Utah to Oakland has certainly given us an opportunity to expand our interaction with people of different social classes, and the experiences are neither 100% positive nor negative. As I stood there chatting with our handsome African American cashier, I wondered how he feels about the labels and the weight of cultural expectations that separate us. It is no secret that he is black and I am white. I actually wondered if it was ok to ask. “What do you think about Baltimore?” I wanted to say it, but didn’t. How do you start a conversation when you shouldn’t? Maybe he does not care. Maybe he is sick of being asked by every white person. I am not sure. What I know is we talked about sugar, about why I bought so much fruit. “I am cutting down on the sweets.” I said, and it is so hard.
“I totally get that.” He responded.
He told me that he was also feeling hungry, then looked at my food selection, and picked up my no-chocolate-included trail mix and said, “this will help you get through.”

Lunch is done. We are back in our room. The sun is shining. Eli’s head faces mine as we face our respective laptop screens. Kyle is sitting on the couch approximately ten feet away. I assume he is doing his homework. I ask. “Kyle, are you doing your homework?”
“Yes. I have been doing my homework,” he says as his sits up and looks at me. “A famous Youtuber makes from once sponsored video as much money as someone at an entry level job makes in three years.” Then he pounces on Eli, who is now standing next to the couch. I ask them to stop. They both scream.
“Ok. Bye.” Eli snaps as he stomp limps out of the room.

Tagged : Baltimore Riots / Race / Segregation

CrazyUS.com

Category: Family