First, the picture of Muriel's cake that didn't make her birthday post:
Trip Report, Retroactive
So, way back a long time ago (at the end of June), we had our vacation. We went to Orcas island again, not because there are no other good vacation destinations around here, but because we really loved it last time, and we wanted to take Jim's parents on a sure thing. Our last Orcas trip, you may recall, was inspired by drunken bidding at a charity auction. This time we rented a house the way most people have to (find house, send in deposit, pay full price, bleah). Again, we were lucky enough to have our good friends join us on the trip as well, so along with three generations of Khooler, we had Naomi and Muriel's BFFs (and their parents) along.
Naomi with her best pal. The weather was chilly the first part of the week, but good and warm by the end.
The house was on the north side of the island, and looked out into the part of the Sound between the San Juans and the mainland. The view was really pretty spectacular, from the deck outside the main floor of the house, from our little deck upstairs, from my ridiculously comfy king-sized bed (from where, on the first morning, thanks to an early wakeup by our little closet-dweller, I got to lie back and actually watch the sun rise over the water), and from the rocky little private beach, accessible by a steep-sided trail that would not have seemed breathtakingly dangerous to my childless self of yore. The view from our private beach....
We didn't see any whales this time, but there were a few dolphin sightings, big ships, sailboats, and a puzzling set of dark, intriguing buildings on the far shore, which I doggedly attempted to identify with the marine map of the island that came with the house, only to discover a little typed square of paper that had been laminated onto the map, telling me exactly which islands I was seeing, and what those dark, forboding cities on the far shore were (uh, oil refineries). The only part of the house that didn't have a great view was the hot tub, which we tried out just on principle, but I think if it had been on the deck, there may have been considerably increased stewing. Also on the topic of stewing, my friend brought the pinot grigio wine cube from Target. And then her husband went to the liquor store for Jameson (because he has been reading my diary?), and a Khalua/vodka pre-mix thing that we renamed, in Jim's honor, "White Asian." Slurp.
This is the first season I have really watched "So You Think You Can Dance," and I am a little concerned that it is influencing my already slangariffic vocab. Because I was about to start writing about how good the food was in our vacation paradise, and the first adjective that came to mind was "sick." Thanks a lot, you weird dancing judges. Anyway, the food was not sick, but very very good, thanks to a friendly unspoken competition between Jim's mom and our friend J., the same vacation chef who kept us in bacon last trip. Yes, there were Mexican delicacies (homemade guacamole a la J. has converted me from a guac hater), yes there was sticky rice, on the Eastern side. We even had a birthday cake for C. Mmm.
I was concerned that Jim's parents would be bored on this vacation. Their sport of choice is shopping, preferably discount (or DVD) shopping, preferably at the same strip mall over and over and over. Occasionally, they like to vary from this routine with a trip to any establishment which provides them with all you can eat food. If the food includes seafood, specifically shellfish or sushi, all the better. Our vacation choice provides travelers with exactly zero opportunity to do any of this. But they settled right in, on the deck, reading a thriller, in the case of Jim's dad, and just taking in the view, in the case of Jim's mom. I confess, it was enormously gratifying. As for the rest of us, there was a lot of story reading and little-people playing. The bigger, though still quite little girls shared a room off of C. and J.'s room, which made for really terrible nights' sleep for those two. Shenanigans! We did a little hiking. We hit the beach (the lake beach, where again, the water was waaaaay too cold for any of us to go in further than knee level).
I was concerned that Jim's parents would be bored on this vacation. Their sport of choice is shopping, preferably discount (or DVD) shopping, preferably at the same strip mall over and over and over. Occasionally, they like to vary from this routine with a trip to any establishment which provides them with all you can eat food. If the food includes seafood, specifically shellfish or sushi, all the better. Our vacation choice provides travelers with exactly zero opportunity to do any of this. But they settled right in, on the deck, reading a thriller, in the case of Jim's dad, and just taking in the view, in the case of Jim's mom. I confess, it was enormously gratifying. As for the rest of us, there was a lot of story reading and little-people playing. The bigger, though still quite little girls shared a room off of C. and J.'s room, which made for really terrible nights' sleep for those two. Shenanigans! We did a little hiking. We hit the beach (the lake beach, where again, the water was waaaaay too cold for any of us to go in further than knee level).
(Muriel auditions for some wacky Racquel Welch movie remake starring only babies...)
Jim, J., and I went sea kayaking, which was a terrific adventure, and also made me think it was possible that my arms might fall off. Ahh, vacation. This one really was over too soon.
Bridge Topic: Vacation Homes
One thing I didn't mention in the vacation post is that the house we rented, in addition to being large and wonderfully sited, ridiculously well-equipped (kid plates? high chair? pack and play? blender? beach towels? checks and more checks on the list), and a tiny bit eerie in its ability to make you think someone was right there, when they were upstairs, or long gone, when they were around the corner in the kitchen, also had a distinct decorative theme: pine cones. You may think this is the sort of theme that would be a kind of suggestion, just a little something to tie rooms together. But no, this house was obsessed, in so far as a house does that king of thing, with pine cones. The things I mentioned in the "well equipped" list, above, are about the only thing in this house that didn't conform to the decorative theme. So there were pine cone wall paper borders, towels, sheets, dishes, glasses, silverware, placemats, switch plates on all the light switches, lamps, bed headboards, nightstands, wall hangings, throw rugs, candles, picture frames, mirrors, drawer pulls, curtains, and various bric a brac. To name a few. There was a set of framed stamps FROM OTHER COUNTRIES that had pine cones on them. There was a cute folk-art thrift store tin frame with a pine cone theme. There was a figurine that was clearly resin-cast, but was intended to look like a folk art miniature of an evergreen tree constructed out of pine cone parts (what are those parts called? You know, the petals of the pine cone?).
I was tempted, dear readers, to treat you to a peek at this excess, but there was no way to capture just a few photos that would realistically convey the scope of this theme. It was mighty, overpowering, all-encompassing. Pine Cone Cabin! You know who you are. It was in bookclubbing this wacky aspect of our vacation, during our vacation, that my friend and I formulated an important theory. Because it is too mind-blowing to imagine that there exists someone who has the time and the patience and the resources to scour retail and resale establishments to furnish a vacation home this completely and this thoroughly thematically, there simply has got to be a service out there in the world that exists to furnish vacation homes according to themes. In my two minutes of googling, I have turned up a couple of cabin-decor type places that have all the furniture and bedding and switch plate covers and coasters and salt and pepper shakers. So I guess I can imagine that those crazy, over the top touches could be accomplished by actual owners (the seven framed antique postcards of little resorts across the country that have "pine cone" in the name?), with the muscle work handled by a tireless online shopper. I remember that whenever we stayed at the North shore in Minnesota, the themes always centered around black bears or moose. I have to imagine there are many beach cottages that have fish or seashells or both.
But who could forget the hall of taxidermy, where I stayed with my girlfriend during a girls' weekend of terror, outside of Vegas, a year and a half ago? We were apalled by that place, so incredibly well-stocked with dead, menacing animals as it was, and wondered how anyone had the time to hunt as many deer as they would have had to to create that many antler chandeliers and, embarrassingly, magazine racks for the bathroom stalls. So, naive J. Khooler of one and one half years ago, I announce to you this: they just picked a theme and someone ordered one hundred and fifty dead animals off the internet. Duh.
But that brings me to a quick anecdote, which is almost in the present day (finally), and that is this: I had another girls' weekend, with the same girl, only this time it was in her new home, fabulous Boise, Idaho. Not that you care, but people from there say "Boy-see," not "Boy-zee," which is kind of my preferred pronunciation. Oh well. There was no taxidermy whatsoever involved in this weekend. Last time, I was the pregnant friend, but this time, it was my friend bearing that burden, if you will. She is due at the end of August, and is postively radiant (though she is normally, too). There was a baby shower for her that involved sick (read, fantastic) coconut cupcakes, a fun little farmer's market in Eagle, and a night on the town in Boise. Here's what our night on the town looked like: 1. Check into hotel. 2. Get suits on for trip to pool. 3. Discover pool is the greenish, three-lane lap pool at the Gold's Gym in the hotel. Eee. Return to room, still dry, for nap. 4. Get dressed up, including cute (uncomfortable) shoes. Hey, it happens once in a while. 5. Sit at sidewalk table of very nice restaurant/bar, drinking, eating tiny appetizer, watching people. 6. Report to real dinner spot, the fondue restaurant. Sit at a crazily romantic little table. 7. Eat way, way too much food that has been dipped into something or cooked in something right at our table. 8. Stagger and/or hobble back to hotel. 9. The end.
So, yeah, girls' weekends were a little different when we were closer to being actual girls. This is the friend who used to take me to the makeup counter, then dinner at a casino restaurant, off to a club, and then dancing at the after-club. Not that I expected much dancing out of this trip. It was just fine with me, how relaxing and devoid of binge drinking our evening was. The great part is that just being with my friend, which was ostensibly the appeal of a girls' weekend all along, is now genuinely the primary, wonderful treat of the experience. It is so great to get together and have nothing but time to talk and plan and dissect. Thanks, girlfriend! Spending time with someone who has known me since I was 13 (and still likes me!) is a remarkable gift. Though I will admit that going through security at the airport and eating out at three different restaurants without any small children along was weirdly delightful as well.
Awesome
When I got back from my girls' weekend on Sunday afternoon, my husband performed his usual ritual for the day we are reunited after a long absence, which is to go and see a matinee. Whatever. I took the girls out to the backyard post-nap, and it was so warm and sunny and lovely that I decided we should head over to the new splash park not far from our house. We hustled through the sunscreen/swimsuit/towel/dress/shoes procedure (involving a spectacular fall down the stairs by Muriel, which did not result in any injury to Muriel, but gave me the most amazing adrenaline dump), drove to the splash park, and jumped into the spray. At which time the dark gray clouds completely took over the sky and the warm 71 degree weather turned into cold 71 degree weather. The sun makes a big difference, is all I'm saying. Muriel kept putting her face directly in the spray, so she got pretty wet. I started to feel like a bad parent, since they were in their wet little bathing suits and I was not inclined to take off my SWEATER, so I dried them off and changed their clothes and set them loose on the dry playground portion of the park.
Naomi remembered some random imaginary play we had enacted the last time we had been at this park, which had to have been four months ago or more, that involved being trapped in the high tower, and having the other person come for rescue purposes, bearing nutritious, tasty (pretend) muffins. I don't know how muffins got involved. But we picked the game back up, and Naomi came to rescue her sister and me, up in the tall tower, and brought the pretend muffins. There was another little girl on the play structure (or whatever they're called) with us, watching our weird game, so I said, "Do you want some of our tasty muffins?" And she blinked her wide eyes for a few seconds, and then said, "But, we don't know if they are vegan!"
