Gah! Air Travel!!

This morning, Ms. Without-Shopping and I woke up at o-dark thirty to catch a 6:30 flight to a conference. Flying anywhere for any professional reason almost never happens to teacher types (it involves money), so we're excited--until we get to the airport. We park and hustle into the terminal. Turns out the e-ticket is one of those "operated by" tix, so we're at the wrong airline. On the wrong side of the terminal, it turns out. While we're crossing over, we see that the TSA screening line stretches from here to Chicago (at 5:45 am?? Hello??). So basically, no plane for you!

So now I have a day off from work, but I'm spending it in the airport on standby. My life is an encyclopedic justification of Murphy's Law. Air travel FAIL.

Happiness is...

"...two kinds of ice cream...finding your skate key...telling the time! Happiness is learning to whistle, tying your shoe for the very first tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime!"

Sorry! Got a little You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown there, but every time I hear someone say "happiness is," my brain starts singing. Turns out, according to the CDC, happiness is living in Florida. Or Louisiana, Hawaii, Tennessee, or Arizona, to round out the top five. The research apparently shows that states with a lot of sunshine and a laid-back lifestyle score high on happiness surveys.

The grumpiest? New York. I don't find that hard to believe. I've traveled to NYC several times, and although it's fascinating and wonderful, I can only take it for short bursts at a time. After a while, I want to see free-range trees instead of ones confined to a park, less traffic, fewer people, and nicer manners.

The thing that finally convinced me that NYC was a place to visit, and not to live, was a casual conversation I had with a group of writers and editors during RWA National several years ago. That week in July had apparently been uncomfortably warm for them (84 degrees and humidity in the high 40s), while I was loving every springlike minute of it (I'd flown up from temps in the mid-90s and a thunderstorm every afternoon, with accompanying humidity). I mentioned that I had been enjoying Central Park's grass, and how it felt so soft on my bare feet (St. Augustine sod looks nice, but isn't pleasant underfoot. Too stiff.). Ms. Editor Lady, a born-and-bred NYC girl, actually said, "I walked on grass once. I didn't like it." Once? You walked barefoot on grass ONCE??

I don't know about you, but a life where you have to wear shoes just isn't one I'm that interested in. Plus, those poor New Yorkers are socked in because of that storm. I'll be gallivanting about with my top down. Hate to rub it in, Northeasterners, but this truly is the life. And if your latest blizzard convinces you it's time to think about moving South, a few tips:

1. Things move a bit more slowly down here. Don't be rude. Learn to relax and enjoy.
2. We don't like living on top of each other, so ease up on all those building permits.
3. There are bugs here. Large ones. Deal with it.
4. It's hot. And humid. Deal with it.
5. Proximity to lakes and woods does not give you a license to get your wild on. Don't feed the alligators, morons. Or the bears.
6. Learn to wave at passing strangers in cars.
7. Just because we talk more slowly, it doesn't mean we're dumb. Check out Faulkner, Welty, Williams, and O'Connor if you doubt me.
8. Real Southern barbecue is the food of the gods, and soul food truly is food for the soul.
9. Smile. It won't hurt anything, and you probably won't get as many headaches.
10. Buy the convertible. You won't regret it.

Carolina in My Mind

Ahh....mountain air. There's something refreshing about escaping the ridiculous humidity in Florida and enjoying cooler days and nights in the Blue Ridge. Driving up from Atlanta, you can totally understand the scriptural reference "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help" (if I may go all King James for a moment). The Appalachians don't have the jaw-dropping vistas you see in the Rockies, but there's something about them...probably the fact that they're the oldest mountain range on earth.

At any rate, we'll enjoy a few days in NC before collecting up Frick (who's been on a trip with the middle school youth from church) and Frack (who's been in the mountains for a week, visiting the grands) and heading back home. It's a nice reset button for the summer, now that we're on the downhill slide toward the new school year. I just wish it were closer...that loooooooooooong drive through middle Georgia on I-75 is surely the Devil's handiwork.

Now That's What I Call Feminine Protection!

Now I've seen it all. Normally, the host hotel for RWA National commandeers a men's bathroom to handle the high number of female attendees. I've always thought it was kinda cool to penetrate the inner sanctum in all its masculine glory. But not the Marriott Wardman Park. They were so kind as to arrange this:

It's not like we're going to run screaming from the loo at the sight of a couple of urinals, but this is really going above and beyond to preserve our feminine sensibilities.

mimi Does Monuments!

I am one tired puppy, let me tell you. I wish I'd remembered the pedometer, because I have no idea how much we walked. I only know it was a lot. After a yummy breakfast at Afterwords Café near Dupont Circle, we hoofed it down Connecticut Avenue to Lafayette Square, then over to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I've been to DC before, but my memories of a lot of these places are from a tour bus. How great to walk up! I only wish we could have scored tour tix, but alas, the denizens of Chez mimi do not, in themselves, constitute a school group. We'll have to settle for a Capitol tour Monday instead.

After the White House, on the Museum of American History. We took our time (First Ladies are the coolest! Julia Child is my new hero! They need more artifacts in the pop culture section!), did some experiments in the science lab, played on the Chicago streetcar, and basically wore ourselves out. Then, because we know how to prolong a good time longer than sane people, we toured monuments. All the monuments.

No tickets for the Washington Monument, so we walked and goggled, then down the Reflecting Pool. The new WWII Memorial is gorgeous, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial as moving as I remember (I saw it the first year it opened), the Korean War Memorial lovely, but I wonder if there's a monument for WWI, and if so, where is it?

We spent some reflective time with Mr. Lincoln, then took a slow walk around the Tidal Basin while the sun went down. We got to see the new memorial to FDR. Let's just say that he seriously deserves his spot in the top five of all U.S. Presidents. And also that the bounds of American tackiness don't exist. I don't know what exactly to say about people who pose for pictures, grinning and clowning, in front of a line of bronze statues representing a Depression-era breadline. I'm not sure there is anything to say except go read The Grapes of Wrath and then come back and apologize. Epic American fail.

I confess, I had a total squee fangirl goosebump moment in the Jefferson Memorial. He's my all-time favorite president, and I have to say that reading the selected Jefferson quotations in the memorial and the info in the exhibit reinforced exactly why he is so awesome. Erudite and passionate, Jefferson loved life (including things that illumine life, like poetry, music, and literature) and liberty (personal liberty and the freedom to choose and learn your own path). Incredible.

Considering Lincoln, FDR, and Jefferson back to back to back really makes you wonder where today's statesmen happen to be, if there are any anymore. I'm not sure anyone walking the halls of Congress today would deserve a monument. Think they're wondering about their historical legacy in between cozying up to lobbyists and working so very, very hard to get re-elected? I doubt it. Maybe they need to spend a little time at the monuments themselves, just to remind them why they're here in the first place.

Florida, For Real

Pretty, aren't they? These are two of the Spanish horses from the wild herd roaming Paynes Prairie. Nice day spent with the rents, all the grandkids, and lots of walking and nature. Not a bad way to see out the year.

Leaf Peepin'

mimi père and Wicked have lived in the mountains for seven years now, and this is the first time we've visited in the fall. Leaf peepers, the locals call those of us who slow down traffic and wander about agape. But can you blame us? Check these out:


Autumn. Le sigh. I have a sudden urge to go read some Keats.

You're Lucky Enough

Woke up to this today:


As the little plaque in the powder room says, "If you're lucky enough to be in the mountains, you're lucky enough."

The State of Northern California

I feel so Lewis and Clark! Having spent my summers at Atlantic beaches and the Gulf, the deep blue waters and unpredictable surf of the Pacific are a treat. Our inn in Ft. Bragg is just a couple of blocks from the famous Glass Beach. Years ago, this area was a dump, literally. Folks from the lumber company and the town tossed all kinds of things over the cliff. Decades later, the junk is gone, and the broken glass has been sanded and smoothed by the surf.


Ft. Bragg is a working town, home of the award-winning North Coast Brewing Company. Down the road is Mendocino, quaint, beautiful, and expensive. We're talking pay $800 grand for a 2/2 in the village expensive. But it does have a very cool independent record shop (Red Rooster Records--support small business! They take internet orders!) and gorgeous gardens. Here's one we spotted next to the local vet's office:


And although Mendocino was gorgeous, we had to take offense at this:


Come on, people, this is good money we're spending! Besides, can we help it if our surf temperature is double yours? As the kids at my favorite high school would say, "don't hate."

Of course, no big family vacation with the attendant big price tag can't go by without the big finish. We decided on this:


On the drive back to SF and the airport, DH took a impulsive detour to the Mendocino Wine Company so the kids could see how wine is made. Their wines include Big Yellow (Cabernet), SketchBook, and Zig Zag Zin. I not much of a wine drinker, but I have to admit, this was cool stuff. Plus, they are the first carbon neutral winery in the U.S.

Frick and Frack will have the best "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" essays ever!

On the Road Again

Last day in San Francisco. If this bunch of Floridians is going to fly all this way, we're damn sure going to check out some Pacific coastline. Before we left SF, we treated ourselves to one last gift: the Dale Chihuly special exhibit in the DeYoung Museum. You really have to hand it to someone with the vision to create this:


After the feast, we piled in our Rent-a-Jetta and headed north. So we not only got to see the Golden Gate Bridge, we got to drive across it as well!


The thing that strikes me most about the California countryside is how dry it is. I've lived in Florida so long, I think I've become part amphibian. It's wet at home in the summer, what with the afternoon thunderstorms and all, and everything's lush and thick and green. So looking out the car window and seeing rocks, hills, sparse trees, and fields of golden, dried-brown grass is a real adjustment.

We stopped for dinner in this way-cool roadside diner in Cloverdale called Pick's. It's been in the same place, same decor, since the 1920s. You know, it's too bad we seem so intent on bulldozing the past to build something new and tacky. Here's the kind of thing we trash:


We arrived in Ft. Bragg after dark, so no peeks at the ocean just yet. Can't wait!

SF Day 3: If It's 3pm, It Must Be Alcatraz

Nothing like packing in every possible tourist attraction in the city in one day, but Overachievers R Us. First, we navigate the Muni so we can pick up a cable car at Powell and Market. We and five thousand other tourists, apparently. So we hoof it up Powell and manage to squeeze on at Union Square. Here we are, geeking it up:


Quick stop for the sea lions at Pier 39 (which is San Francisco's answer to International Drive), then onto the ferry for Alcatraz. DH was hoping at this point we'd leave him there for some peace and quiet, but we don't think this is a good look for him:


But wait, there's more! Then we climb the Lombard Street stairs to Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower. Killer view of the city. Here's the way down:


We have dinner in a basement dive in Chinatown--everyone there was speaking Cantonese except us--then foot-drag our way back to the Muni and home. My pedometer is smoking. I am so looking forward to that Tempur-Pedic!

SF Day 2: Home is Where the Weird Is

We luuuuurve our SF home, the gorgeous Inn 1890 on Page Street. Our suite has curved windows, a gas fireplace with intricate carving and tile work, and--hold onto your sore backs--Tempur-Pedic mattresses. We slept like bricks last night. Look how pretty is is from the outside:


We're two blocks from Golden Gate Park and one block away from Haight Street, which we decided to explore today. Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. The corner of Haight and Ashbury streets was, of course, the epicenter of the hippie movement in the 60s, and there's still plenty of counterculture to go around. Not too many places in the 'burbs like this, where you can get both a tattoo and a piercing in one sitting at nearly any hour of the day or night:


There's plenty to look at: interesting shops, gorgeous Victorians (I am soooooo envious!), street musicians, vagrants, hash pipes, noodle shops, Tibetan jewelry and textiles, incense, you name it. Tons of leftist political stickers--Obama's really popular in this section of the Left Coast. And VW Beetles. Tons of Beetles. Considering that gas is $4.50 a gallon for regular (California is not shy about add-on taxes for gas, health fees, city fees, etc.), small cars are way more prevalent than the SUV army we have to dodge back home.

A lovely capper to our day was dinner on Haight Street at All You Knead with our friends Jeffrey and Bill. Great food, great company, great day.

SF Day 1: Glad We Packed the Jackets!

Doesn't it always happen? We get everyone out of the bed at the crack of dawn to make our 9 am flight, drive across town to the off-site parking, and once we get into a spot, the sky opens up and Noah's flood commences. Poor DH got soaked loading all the suitcases onto the shuttle bus. He'd mostly dried off by the end of the flight to Atlanta. We grabbed some grub in the airport, then boarded the flight to San Francisco.

This is one friggin' big country. The flight was about seven hours long, but since we gain three hours flying west, we touched down in the early afternoon. Yay! We have to put on jackets because it's cold--quite the change from the steam bath we call home. After dropping off the bags at our inn, we spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Golden Gate Park. Interesting place. We don't have many teenage anarchists and all their emo buddies camping out 'round these parts. Would a true anarchist have emo buddies? I'm just sayin'.

Goin' Back to Cali

Technically, I really am "going back to Cali," to quote my dog LL Cool J, since I had to cross into California to work my way down to Lake Tahoe a couple of years back. But I've never spent any quality time there. This year, the denizens of Chez mimi will have a real life summer vacation in the Golden State. We fly to San Francisco tomorrow--first time Frick and Frack have ever been on an airplane! We'll spend a couple of days by the Bay, then rent a car to drive up the coast to Ft. Bragg in Mendocino County.

I'll be packing the fams off in a week to attend the RWA National Conference. More about conference later. For tonight, I have to finish packing!

Ten Memorable Vacation Moments

Crunch time coming. A week from tomorrow, we fly out to San Francisco for the family vacay before the RWA Conference. Cleaning and shopping abound. Until then, some pre-holiday reminiscing.

1. Calling seats in our 1976 Chevy Caprice Classic Estate station wagon. Just like this one, except ours was red and had a CB antenna on top. Baby Bro usually got the "way back" seat while sis and I fought over the back seat.
2. Winning my first Highland Dance trophy on my birthday at the Flora MacDonald Highland Games in Red Springs, NC--wearing a Clan Donald sept tartan, (MacDonell of Glengarry) natch!
   
3. Agog on the Rocky Mountaineer in British Columbia.
4. Shagging on Myrtle Beach in college. The South Carolina state dance, not the British version.
5. Family photo op at Niagara Falls, the Canadian side.
6. Waking up to a Blue Ridge sunrise at Daddy's house in Highlands, NC.
7. Stealing a rollaway bed in Reno with Bubbles.
8. Romantic getaway in a French Quarter B&B with DH. We had a tw0-story cottage that was the converted slave quarters of a Burgundy Street house. Vacation complete with beignets, of course, and finished-with-a-hubcap burgers at the Clover Grill.
9. Colonial Williamsburg, Carter's Grove, Shirley, and Berkley the summer before the American Bicentennial. And visiting Monticello, home of my favorite U.S. President.
10. Real Florida--our family's farm in Levy County. Horses, pigs, chickens, cows, turkeys. Dirt, fishing, and plenty of sunshine. No heat or AC. Water fun in a #3 galvanized washtub. Horseback riding all through the hammock. Disney has nothing on our magic kingdom.
    

Florida Rules!

Gotta love living in Florida. Today after lunch, we all look at each other and decide, "Beach!" We throw some towels and sunscreen in the trunk, put on suits, and head over to New Smyrna Beach. It's gorgeous--not too hot, nice breeze. After a couple of hours on the beach, we drive down past Bethune Beach and have some seafood at JB's Fish Camp. Having to eat fresh seafood by the river on a gorgeous night. Yep, sucks to live in Florida.

Ten Places You'd Take a Tourist to See in Your Hometown

Love this topic, since I live in Tourist Mecca. Try these on for size when you get sick of Mickey.

1. Maitland Art Center - The coolest little place you've never been. Andre Smith founded this artists' colony in the 20s, and now it's home to studios, a gallery, and some very cool Mayan fantastic gardens. My kids love going here.
   
2. Wekiwa Springs State Park - Florida looks like this, people.
   
3. Park Avenue, Winter Park - Old World shopping across from the hallmark park. My first jobs were st shops and restaurants on Park Ave. Come by before the mall stores and conglomerates buy up all the unique shops.
   
4. Dinky Dock - Just down the street from Rollins College, this is where Fleet Peeples taught nearly everyone in the Maitland/Winter Park area to swim. Also a good place to go necking with your boyfriend.
   
5. Lil 500 - Kitschy and loud. Three go-kart tracks. You're probably big enough for the fast track. Too bad the giant slide got dismantled.
   
6. Morse Museum of American Art - Largest collection of Louis Comfort Tiffany art in the country. Beautiful stuff, especially the chapel Tiffany created for Laurelton Hall.
   
7. Enzo's - Favorite restaurant in town. You'd never believe it was as good as it is, given the neighbors (kinda-skeevy-looking businesses), but behind that white wall is amazing Italian food in a beautiful setting on Lake Fairy.
   
8. Cassadaga - Okay, this isn't technically in my hometown, but it's worth the short drive up I-4. The place to go if you want to talk to a medium.
   
9. Blue Spring State Park - Florida looks like this, too. Come in the winter months to see the manatees.
   
10. Leu Gardens - Gorgeous camellias in the winter, and georgeous everything else year round. This one's special because I had my wedding reception here.
    

NYC Saturday: Theater Gal

Aside from the fact that my boots are not made for walkin'--at least, not on all this concrete all the time (the things we do to keep warm and stay marginally in fashion)--I am loving this trip to New York.

Tonight was special for another reason, since I got the chance to hook up with a former student of mine. He's the stage manager for the Take Wings and Soar production of Medea, presented at the National Black Theatre in Harlem. So, workshop day, ride the subway, chat and have some terrific soul food on MLK, Jr. Blvd. in Harlem, and a really good live stage show. Not bad for a whirlwind trip, I must say!

Home tomorrow. Can't say I'll miss the cold, though. I may have to break down and buy a $5 pashmina from a street vendor, assuming I can find one when I'm ready to buy. Slippery suckers are never around when you're looking for them.

NYC Friday: Night at the Museum

Today was an awesome day in the Big Apple! First, we woke up to three inches of snow on the ground! Pretty cool stuff for this Florida gal. I haven't been in serious snow for years. All the natives were probably annoyed at the snow-eating grin on my face. Got some nice pix, so that was good.

Props to my favorite French store, Targét, for sponsoring free Friday night at the Museum of Modern Art. This is my fourth trip to New York, but I've never been able to get to MOMA until now. Thank you, thank you for the opportunity to see this up close:

And this:


(If for no other reason than Ian Falconer excerpted it in Olivia, one of DD's favorite books)

And this:

(Because Wyeth freakin' rocks, and he did this in egg tempera, which is dastardly tricky to use, and it's so detailed you could stare at it for an hour and still find something new to be awed about.)

Plus, they have a Slinky and Legos in the design collection. That is one cool museum. Must go back.

Big Apple Bound!

Off in the a.m. for a three-day workshop in NYC (oh, the agony). Loose on a weekend with no kids--just adult conversation, museums, theater, etc. I suppose I'll muddle through somehow. I'll admit, though, it would be more fun to bring along DH, but he'll have to wait for next time. :-(

I'll post some pics when I get back. Off to pack!