Category: travel

Posted on

whatever it is we do on a regular basis

A nice long week in Oregon, away from the hustle and bustle of whatever it is we do on a “regular basis.”

We had a great Thanksgiving.  Spent some much-needed time with family.  Grammy and Grandpa watched Cohen one afternoon while Sharaun and I took Keaton to see the new Disney movie Tangled (which, by the way, I truly enjoyed), and then watched both kids another evening so Sharaun and I could have a nice dinner together.  We needed some time off as a couple I think, I it just reminded me that we have to make time for that more often.  We grabbed some Thai food and bummed around the mall for an hour or so… the kind of “old people” date we’ve come to accept as what we now enjoy more than $12 cocktails, barstools, and thumping bass.  As we trod the aisles of the Hot Topic, lamenting the capitalistic misappropriation of our youth, we happily agreed that we are now “parents” and are fine with it.  Old-people dates: best enjoyed tepid.

I thought today about how the year is already almost over.  Over!  I sometimes don’t understand how time moves so quickly.  Next week I have a mandatory all-day training that lasts three days.  That’ll kill the week.  Two weeks after that and we’re off to Florida to ring in the new year for another couple weeks.  I’ll be a blur, like it always is, and then it’ll be next year and we’ll be racing to Keaton’s birthday and all the other markers that we measure.  I sometimes think I “conceptualize” the passing of time in the wrong ways.  It almost feels like I think about time “in between” these milestones, and sometimes miss what’s happening day-to-day in between.  I’m always thinking about what happened “between” this thing and that thing… I want to start thinking about how long each day itself is – what we can do with the time that’s right on top of us.

Goodnight.

Posted on

cold turkey

It’s 18° in Oregon and I’ve been cozied-up on the couch at my folks’ place since Monday night.

I had to work yesterday and today, and since a good portion of folks are already on vacation I found myself busier than I expected for what was supposed to be a couple of “slow” holiday workdays.  I found myself feeling guilty, which is wrong, but I had this notion that these would be “easy” working-from-home days and I’d be spending time with family moreso than turning the millstone.  My fault really, if I’d really wanted a vacation I could’ve burned the days instead of trying to cheat them out.  Maybe today will be better.  Maybe it’ll teach me the rest of my lesson.

We got in Monday night around 7pm after a little more than an hour of flight delay.  None of us were groped, scanned, or otherwise molested by the TSA – security was as it’s always been and altogether uneventful.  My mom had a late dinner prepared and waiting for us, which was much appreciated.  Keaton, being excited to finally be at Grammy & Grandpa’s place, was granted a “stay up late” night and got to play until around 10pm.  At about 9:30pm she peeked out the front door and announced that it was “snowing hard.”  Already in her pajamas, she ran to get her shoes and jacket and we both went out into the driveway (me in shorts, an undershirt, and slippers) to make prints in the newly fallen snow.  She really likes that less-than-an-inch of snow.

I’ve got my sights set on Thursday for some turkey, beer, and football.  Brother’s coming over with his wife and the new niece we’ve yet to meet and I’m anticipating an incredibly lazy day spent reading, continually nibbling, and hanging out.

Goodnight.

Posted on

bonding all the way

Friday at last.

California is one of only three states in the union that gives new parents paid time-off for “bonding leave” (furthermore, the US is the only “wealthy” nation that doesn’t do this nationally for its citizenship) when a new child is born.  I did not take advantage of this perk when Keaton was born and I’ve come to sorely regret it.  It’s time that’s gifted to me to be with my family and I left it on the table.  Before Cohen ever got here I had decided I wouldn’t be repeating that mistake again.  Today I had a revelation and decided what I want to do with the time.

I want to rent an RV and take the family on an extended cross-country road trip.  Driving from location to location, overnighting alongside rivers and in national parks and maybe even in Wal Mart parking lots.  Visiting friends and family, experiencing history, bonding in the first degree.  I have my eyes on this little number.  Start here, head to the forests of Oregon and Washington, cross the country in the north hitting Seattle, Glacier, Yellowstone, Teton, Rushmore, Badlands, Great Lakes, Niagra.  Down the eastern seaboard hitting Gettysburg, D.C., the major eastern ranges (Appalachians, Smokies, Blue Ridge).  Down again to the Everglades, Keys.  Back up and out across the heartland and I want to do the Ozarks, Rockies, Arches, Moab.  Turn down again for the Grand Canyon, across Hoover to San Diego and then back home along the 101.

At first I thought it was too ambitious, even in six weeks time. But I did a super quick hardly-any-planning route-check and Google Maps says it would be a seven day, ~10,000 mile drive going straight-through (Google Maps is crazy), so maybe six weeks isn’t too far off with enough stoppage time to make it seem more exploration and experience versus just driving, driving, driving.  Something like $5,000 in RV rental and mileage alone, and says nothing for fuel and the cost of travel and sightseeing.  But… a six week discovery-cation… bonding all the way.

We are totally doing this.  100%.  Stop me.

Goodnight.

Posted on

salty-tangy

Writing for me lately has been hard.  Writing for me this week on vacation has been beyond hard.

I’ve had so much time to do other things than write.  Things on the beach.  Things at the park.  Things even in the room.  But above all things with Sharaun and Keaton and friends.  And in the end, what’s better?  Forcing some writing while in a slump or taking a little break and enjoying some coffee while the ocean breeze rides the sun, tangy-salty through the open window.

Last night we went to dinner at a place called Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles.  It’s down near Crenshaw in L.A. and it’s exactly what it sounds like: fried chicken on top of a waffle, syrup and all.  The restaurant was lit inside by red and yellow neon and overhead fluorescents.  Walking in the place looked like something right out of a Tarantino film.  We did this sans kids and went late; Roscoe’s is open until midnight.  We had spent the afternoon at the beach and had worked up a good appetite.

Today we’re going down to feed the ducks at a big pond.  Sharaun is perpetually excited that we’ll run into celebrities (we’ve had sushi with McSomebody from TV and a second-handed brush with some world-famous surfer guy).  Maybe we’ll run into Natalie Portman at the duck pond.

I’ve been sinning though; checking work e-mail regularly on the phone.  Not responding, but checking.  So far I count four “aww craps” I have to react to.  I’m trying to hide from them just for another couple days before I have to come back to reality and face them.

And now I’m going to hide from the reality that is blogging; goodbye.

Posted on

alliteration

A week off work is welcome.

We arrived yesterday in Southern California.  Stayed in a hotel and had dinner with local beer.  We woke early to dine on continental breakfast; although, technically, I think the eggs and bacon and biscuits and gravy actually disqualify it from being truly “continental.”  On the road again and through the bizarre California coastal geography: rocky mountains covered in eucalyptus and yucca that simply dead-end at the sea.

We made straight-away for the beach.  Got there early, the fog had yet to burn off but it wasn’t too cold.  The kids stood in the wash and dared the waves to come get them.  The waves rose to the challenge and eventually took out all three girls: Keaton and her friends.  A roller with force pitched them all into the surf.  Oh it was tears and shock for a minute, but the trauma was soon forgotten and they were back taunting the waves in no time.

Up early tomorrow to try and do the vacation workout routine.  I want to run on the beach but I hate running.

Goodnight.

Posted on

thinking ahead

Hello to the week’s-end.  At the sawmill we called this week “work-week sixteen.”  Well good riddance to work-week sixteen, says I.  Bring on work-week seventeen; I take all comers.

Long-time readers may recall that the sawmill gives us worker-bees an extended piece of paid vacation every so often.  The suits call this a “sabbatical” and it amounts to a three month paid leave, during which you’re free to do what you want.  I had my first sabbatical a few years ago, and think our family did a great job maximizing my time away from work.  In fact, the image accompanying today’s post is a screen-capture of the spreadsheet I used way back then to map and budget our sabbatical goings-on.

The other day at work I spent some time thinking way ahead.  It’s something I do every once in a while.  Try and think five or so years into the future, figure out what major things will happen.  It’s my way of trying to anticipate, any maybe even make plans around, large milestones I know I’ll face way down the road.  Normally, I limit this kind of crystal ball stuff to work or financial subjects… for instance, the project I’m working on now at the sawmill will end in a couple years.  I’ve spent time considering what I’ll do then, and what, if anything, I should be doing now to position myself correctly.  Or maybe I’ll re-run a retirement-readiness check on my investments… something boring and grown-up like that.

Maybe it’s the coming baby, but this time around I also started day-dreaming about far-off family happenings.  Once on the subject my mind turned to thoughts of a second sabbatical.  After some quick (OK not so quick) mental math, I figured our kids will be eight and four when this magical time rolls around again. Eight and four; holy crap.  Keaton twice as old as she is now and in 3rd grade.  Baby #2 as old as Keaton is now and about to start preschool.  A smile came to my face: This could be a magical time for a sabbatical.

One could argue, however, that any time when you’re paid to stay away from work for months on a stretch is “magical.”  Yeah, true.  But I’m talking about the relative ages of the kids.  Having a four year old now I understand what things she’s capable of enjoying, so I have a point of reference I can use in dreaming up travel or activities. I can see our family tromping around the world, stopping in all manner of tropical or exotic locales.

Man, I think I’ll start a new spreadsheet right now.  Never too early to think ahead.

Goodnight.