Germany and Belgium

Maybe this has turned into a travel blog?  My dad called me at home yesterday to ask if I was still in Germany.  Of course, I said "yes."

My husband and I went to Germany last week.  We left Saturday and missed Bri's concert.  She is in the River's Youth Symphony and they played in WGBH's sponsored cartoon something at Symphony Hall.   So, that's a once in a lifetime event we missed.

We had a layover in Berlin so I signed us up for a 4 and1/2 hour walking tour.  It was so cold by the end I just wanted to go back to the airport and find an air vent to cuddle. Then we flew to Cologne for the night.  Monday we drove to Brussels.  We saw a couple of things bought a lot of chocolate and bought some lace for my girls to not appreciate.

Tuesday we drove to Ghent.  That is a very cool town!  We saw Gravensteen Castle, and climbed up a billion stairs to the top of a bell tower.  We stayed at the Marriott which had original building fronts.  They upgraded us because my husband has platinum status to one of the pained windows rooms at the front.





Wednesday night we drove back to Cologne because my husband had to work the next day.  We had a nice dinner with his European colleagues.  The next day I went to the Lugwig art museum and walked around the cathedral.  We had dinner with more colleagues. Friday I went to the NS Document Center because I like history.  We flew back Saturday and it took literally 3 days.

Riding Motorcycles in the Jungle Day 2

Day 2 – Friday Feb 22, 2013 -- Living the Vida Localisto [Living like a local]

I will NEVER own a rooster.  After the 5 am wake up, I try to drift back to sleep and find myself dreaming of throttling that bird in the middle of an uhr-rr-hurr-[grkck-hck-gasp…].

My bed is surprisingly not uncomfortable, just very lumpy.   It’s not soft – I’m used to American beds that are spongy on top. 

After breakfast we catch transportation this morning (our host Sr. Salvador’s brother in his extended cab pickup) to go to Joya del Ceren (the ‘Mayan Pompeii’).  Both brothers own bus companies, where former school buses are painted bright colors and used for local bus routes.  There were three stops before we went through San Salvador, the capital city during morning traffic: the middle of the road when passing a bus (to give the driver a baggie of bills and coins – his ‘paycheck’), down a side street to tell a bus driver (who was sleeping in one of the seats) his changed route for the day, and to make a payment for something at a high-walled compound.  Everyone talks on their cell phone while driving. 

We then stop at a gas station, and back up to another pickup, bumper to bumper.  A disassembled bus transmission and assorted parts are slid into the back of our ride, and then we switch rides.  Sr. Salvador now takes us to Joya del Ceren.  We are supposed to meet Nixon & Roxanne (Louis Tobar’s oldest daughter) there, but Nixon hasn’t finished making his daily batch of cheese yet… so we do the tour of the museum with Sr. Salvador. 

At Joya del Ceren – a peaceful little park – I again pay the Gringo rate (the entry sign says “foreigners - $3, locals $1”).  Sr. Salvador thinks it’s really strange that there is a different price for foreigners.  He asks the ticket agent why Gringo’s pay more. “Because they have more money” is the simple response.  (As a pricing professional, this makes perfect sense to me.  It’s the simplest form of price segmentation and a ‘pricing fence’ that I can think of.) 

We skirt past the school classes and tour groups and walk through the site by ourselves.  The museum is cool, with interesting pots and artifacts and diagrams.   The place itself is an archaelogical treasure – a very well preserved ordinary small Maya village from 580 A.D.  But the interpretive signs are too much.  “…a ceremonial hall where village elders gathered for important events, possibly involving a beverage drank for mystical enlightenment” – give me a break, that is just the village bar.  It’s an unimpressive bunch of small Maya mud huts that were buried by a volcano.   But still cool to see how the other half lived.  In some ways, little has changed.  Less than an hour later, we get a call from Nixon and go to meet him at a gas station, to transfer rides.

We go to lunch, at another archaeology site (a small Mayan temple, but a site that was occupied since Olmec times, and part of a large Maya settlement).  There is a great energetic guide who gives an impromptu tour of the museum.  And it’s educational – I mention the altar of sacrifice at the top of the temple, and when Bobby translates, it is apparent that Nixon’s family didn’t know it was used for human sacrifice.  When we tour the museum, they see the ceremonial knife used to kill the winning team on the ball court, the box used to burn the heart and blood of captives, and a large statue of a warrior wearing the inverted human skin of a sacrificed captive (no, that isn’t armor on those Maya warrior statues – think how that smelled after a few days).   They didn’t know any of this about the Mayas.  I find that odd –I’ve known about human sacrifice in Central American cultures since before high school.  Maybe I just had different interests from my peers…

After hiking around the temple, we take a ride through the mountains, coffee plantations, stop in a relaxing little mountain tourist village for some shopping, and dinner overlooking a volcanic lake at sunset.  A very pleasant day.  Then we meet Sr. Salvador at a mall for another hour-long ride home, stopping of course, for some pupusas along the way (porque no?}

And I learn several times that my Spanish guidebook has led me astray – words that mean nothing here, or are wrong (example: they’ve never heard  the Spanish word for ‘shrimp’ that’s in the guidebook).   This little book is staying home manyana.  I’ll use my ears.

Today was all about eating.  Well, with some driving and sight-seeing in between.

·         Breakfast: served local style (our host says “it’s ready,” serves you a plate, and then leaves to do other things.  Bobby explained that sit-down meals are not a local custom.)

o   Two fried eggs, with salsa, with refried beans, tortilla, fresh cheese, really good juice and rolls

·         Snacks at gas station: Pan dulce (sweet bread) like a maple-frosted croissant-donut hybrid, with a surprise raspberry filling ($1), with a really tasty pina colada juice drink ($0.35)

·         Early lunch: yucca with chicharrones (like sticky mashed potatoes with bacon chunks), and pupusas on the side

o   Pupusas are the local staple: like a stuffed pancake– shape of a tortilla, 5 inches or so round, but filled like a tamale.  Corn or rice dough with cheese or meat filling, flattened and cooked on a grill.  $.50 (bean or cheese) - $1.00 (for meat filling) each.  Served with a mild red sauce and shredded cabbage & carrots soaked in vinegar.  Eaten as finger food.  Mui bueno!

·         Afternoon munchies: green mango chunks (25 cents a bag), really good gelato ice cream cones ($1), and a fresh coconut with the top cut off and a straw to drink it ($0.60)

·         Early dinner: ½ carne plate (I wasn’t that hungry after drinking a coconut) – a small grilled steak, chorrizho sausage ball, pickled cabbage/cole slaw, with rice and black beans, fresh cheese, avocado slice and a tortilla ($3.50)

·         Late dinner: 2 cheese and meat pupusas, with a big pina colada frappe ($3.20)

I’m still full.  And so is my wallet.

After a day in El Salvador, the following sights have become so common they are no longer a surprise – just to be expected:

·         Many people walking along the roadside.  Sometimes women might have a basket, or sack of rice, balanced on their head.   A man may be leaning forward with a bundle of firewood on the back of his neck, or a machete slung from his belt.

·         Trucks so overloaded they tilt backward, often with several people riding on top of the load

·         Small pickups – Toyota, Datsun, Nissan, Mazda…  often with a dozen or more people standing in the back (there is a metal railing installed about chest high, to keep them from easily falling out)

·         Road side vendors.  You can’t go five minutes in any direction without finding food offered for sale.  USA residential neighborhoods must feel like a wasteland – where’s the food?

·         A private security guard at every gas station, with a pump-action ‘street sweeper’ shotgun slung at the ready

·         Private security squads, in full military gear with M-16s, around the banks and government office buildings

·         Barred windows, high walls, razor wire and steel doors on the haciendas and village entrances

The following sights were still a little startling:

·         Old women wielding machete’s to chop wood

·         A guy on a scooter in the middle of the capital with a new lawn mower on the back rack

·         A pickup that was so out of alignment you could see all four tires clearly when behind it as it side-windered down the road

·         Odd low-built carts, piled high with firewood, being ridden down the mountain road like a BigWheel trike

·         A large pile of mannequin parts in one market stall in a busy street maket

·         A mural, with very good black-line pictures, that simply read: Marx, Lenin, Mao, Che

·         The San Salvador LDS temple, an oasis of calm with splendidly clean grounds, new, and wealthy, a bright light amidst a sea of thriving poverty

And then there are Bobby’s comments each day about how he recognizes immediately the ‘scent of El Salvador’: It’s a slightly pungent mix of aromatic wood smoke, road dust, and flowers, with a hint of burning garbage.  He’s right – it’s distinctive.

Today I am left with something to ponder: our hosts don’t know me, they work 6-7 days a week yet they drop everything and take a day off to drive Bobby and I around to see the sights.  They also insist on paying for us - always for the first meal with us, and often for everything else.  We have to work to pay our own way.   Would I do the same, if they came to visit me in Boston?

Tomorrow… moto tour.   Viva la vida commo localisto.

Riding Motorcycles in the Jungle Day 1

My husband has started his El Salvadorian vacation.  Hopefully he will email me everyday about his adventures!  I admit that I'm amused that he is trying to learn the profanity first because my husband doesn't usually swear.

Notes to My Wife from El Salvador

There And Back Again, a Week’s Vacation; Motorcycle Diaries; Living La Vida Commo Localisto; or simply “Six Days of the Gringo”

  

 (with translations, introductions, cultural interpretations – the entire trip– thanks to Bobby)

Day 1 – Thur Feb 21, 2013 -- A Day of Travel

[I was unable to connect or validate my gmail account without a cell phone, but I was able to access a Yahoo email account that I never use. Yes, it´s me.]

We arrived.   We hauled two mongo black duffle bags as checked luggage full of _?¿_.  So I´m a courier, of some sort.  Extra clothing I am told. 

Highlights of our day of travel:

·         Delayed 7:30 am flight out of Boston; I’m so very glad we didn´t try for the later one.

·         I graded papers, estudio hablo espaniol.  Bobby makes friends with the Mexicano who lives in Boston who shared the aisle seat next to us. Uneventful flight, save a little turbulence.

·         Four hour layover in Dallas airport... enough to complete a counteroffer on 25 Warner St (really?  I’m buying investment real estate during an international layover?).  We eat some BBQ, I synch email and clear my inbox, and grade papers...

·         and we lose Bobby´s luggage... we boarded our flight, as I hoist my carryon into the overhead... Bobby says, "where did I put mine?" He bolts from the plane...leaving his backpack behind.

·         "Boarding group 4...." 

·         I decide to turn my cell phone back on, just in case.

·         If he doesn´t come back, do I get off the flight?  I think so....

·         Bobby returns, with his bag. The pilot is waiting for him. 'Heard a report about some guy dropping a backpack and running from the plane...´

·         The pilot decides to let us stay.  [He was really a cool guy, actually.]  Bobby later tells me his bag had been left where we were eating BBQ – unattended for over two hours.  [He didn’t mention that detail to the pilot.  Contrast this with Boston airport, where the police approached us in Dunkin Donuts and demanded to know if the bag two steps behind me belonged to me.]

·         The flight takes off. Bobby corrects my Learn Spanish guidebook - it has a Castillian lisp throughout, and Bobby says all the phrases in the profanity section are wrong.

·         After the other passengers start giving us odd looks, we end the discussion ofEl Salvadoran profanity.  I go back to grading papers.   Bobby finds an empty row on the half empty plane for another siesta.

·         We land. We drag (literally) the mongo bags through immigration and customs. Easy so far.

·         I pay a $10 gringo tax at immigration and get a Visa sticker in my passport. No one else does. Bobby's never been charged. I decide it's my personal fine for 'no hablo espaniol.'

·         As we drag our luggage through immigration, Bobby inhales deeply.  “Ahh… it smells like El Salvador.”  I sniff, and smell burning ditch bank, or maybe the slightly acrid smell of the cooking fires from a South African shanty town.

·         Bobby's cousins are waiting for us. We greet... and I give them blank looks in response, then muck up the minimal Spanish greetings I’d been practicing.  They realize I literally speak no Spanish. They look puzzled.  Shocked, actually.  It is a little odd....I suppose.

·         Ahhh... it´s 80 degrees at night, with a soft breeze. I take off my long sleeve shirt. Roberto says that it´s cold tonight.

·         We pile in the transportation (6 people in a SUV). It’s a comfy squeeze with all the bags in back.  It’s luxury, I realize, as we pass small pickups with a dozen people standing in the bed.

·         Bobby shows pictures on his cell phone of 2 feet of snow, to illustrate Boston (his cousin Roberto has never seen snow). Roberto says he will take us to milk cows tomorrow.

·         I will not drive in El Salvador. Ever.   I try not to watch.

·         We stop for a snack.  Papusas are tasty. Like pancaked tamales. Even the cheese ones with the green herb Loroco (not available in the USA) are good. The horchata (like fresh rice milk) goes well with them.

·         Stray dogs wander by as we are eating, skinny ones with ribs showing.  They are timid.

·         We stop 3 times for Jose (2 yrs old) to pee by the side of the road on the ride to la casa

·         We finally arrive around 9 pm (Central time). Greet Bobby’s great aunt, and watch some futbol.

I’m now comfortably settling in under the dresser with the Winnie the Pooh poster, in the guest bedroom/ nursery.   Ready for Transportation tomorrow at 7:30 am (Latin time). Livin like a local.

The kind of vacation that my husband would naturally plan

My husband is going to El Salvador in about a week with a friend to ride motorcycles in the jungle.

The only problem I foresee is that my husband doesn’t actually know how to ride a motorcycle and today he informed me that the tour starts in the capital city.  (Perhaps I can check out a book on motorcycle riding for him from the library.) 

On the positive side his friend is fluent in Spanish.  They are staying with his friend’s extended family who are planning on chauffeuring them around.  And if someone isn’t available they can call “transportation” and for 15 bucks they can ride in the back of a pickup anywhere within 2 hours!  Hopefully they will be the first two picked up and will therefore get the prime seat over the wheels.

My husband’s friend’s wife Jackie has requested that they return with fifty pounds of cheese*. 

My biggest regret is that I am not going because I believe that this vacation will be very entertaining. 

*Apparently the cheese is very good.  I also requested some cheese to try; however, I specifically said that fifty pounds was too much as I worried that they would be unable to go through customs with two suitcases full of 100 pounds of really good El Salvadorian cheese!

Riding Motorcycles in the Jungle Day 1

Riding Motorcycles in the Jungle Day 2

Snowmen

I was upstairs in the living room when I heard the front door open.  When it didn’t shut I got up to investigate.  William was standing under the front porch.  He was wearing Elizabeth’s straw hat over my straw hat, snow boots, underpants and carrying two handfuls of baby carrots.

“Do you want to make a snowman?”  I asked him.

“Yes.”

I brought him inside and got some clothes on him because that’s what good mothers do – they have their children actually wear clothes outside in single digit weather!  Boom!  Instant “Good Mother” right there!

Elizabeth, William and I went outside to make a snowman.

New England snow is different.  It’s usually heavy, wet, back breaking snow that freezes the next day with a nice crunchy top.  The kind of snow that turns to ice for skiing – the way nature intended!  But this snow was different!  It was powdery, even a day later and it didn’t stick to anything, even itself.  How annoying!  I tried to roll a ball – fail.  I tried to make a square with a shovel – fail. 

The first time my autistic son requests a snowman and the snow won’t cooperate?  No, it will cooperate I decided.  I went over to the mound I had shoveled off the driveway the day before.  I carefully cut out a bottom square, then topped it with two more.  We put branches in for arms, twigs for lips, ice chunks for eyes and a carrot for a nose. 

Best. Snowman. Ever.*

*Well, not really.

Madrid

We only had one day to spend in Madrid … a Monday.  Everything closes in Europe on Monday.  So we couldn’t go to the museum we really wanted The Museum of the Americas.  We were excited to see the treasure taken from the Americas but it was closed so we made other plans.  We started with churros con chocolate at La Chocolateria San Gines.  Just imagine a pot of dark, rich, delicious chocolate!  Honestly the best thing ever!

We visited the Royal Palace. 

Image found here.

Elizabeth decided that she wanted a mansion too.

Image found here.

Then we visited San Miguel Market for lunch.  I thought it would be more like the Market Boquería and it wasn’t.  I was a little disappointed.  We finished our day at Reina Sofía because I wanted to see Guernic.  I didn’t love the museum and wished that I’d chosen to go to the Prado instead but c’est la vie.

Taragona was Fantastic

We loved Taragona!  Fabulous food and a fabulous town!  Tarraco was a Roman Provincial Capital so there are a lot of Roman ruins to explore.  There are remains of a Roman amphitheater, a circus, a forum, huge walls surrounding part of the old city.

Image found here.

Check out more pictures of Taragona here.

We walked by a statue of people making a human pyramid.  And a lady tried to tell us that it was going to happen that night but we didn’t speak Catalonian and so unfortunately we didn’t figure out what she was trying to tell us until after dinner when we came upon people climbing down.  Darn it!  We missed it by minutes!

Image found here.

We went to Les Voltes for dinner twice because we couldn’t resist having dinner in the vaults under the Roman circus.

And the kids had been dying to go to the beach since we got to Spain so we went.

In the rarely accessed portion of my brain where I stuff  “not needed information that I read about once,” ironically not far from the “Pick Pockets in Paris” section, is a section on Nudity on Beaches in Europe.  I basically forgot that there are topless beaches.  We, naturally, walked down to less crowded section on the beach and once there I got some wide-eyed, slightly distressed looks from my children.

“Sorry!  Try not to look in that direction?”  I said as I tried to drag my own startled eyes away.  Not that everyone was topless but we were definitely the most covered up family there.  I had Jake and Elizabeth in swim shirts and I wore a hat, even in the water.

Where were we? Oh, that's right Spain

But maybe I should detour to Carcassonne first.  On our way to Barcelona we stopped by Carcassonne (it’s not just a game*) for the morning.  It’s impressive!  It’s Europe’s largest fortified medieval city.  

Picture attribution here.

How could we miss exploring a giant castle?  Jacob bought a crossbow, Elizabeth bought two helmets and we stuffed ourselves with French junk food – crepes and paninis so the day was quite successful if filled with French tourists**.

We decided to drive over the Pyrenees Mountains and they are absolutely gorgeous.  I wish that we had planned a river rafting trip or to go on a zip line.  That is the one big regret I have.  I didn’t realize until seeing them how nice it would have been to stay there for a day or two.

Picture attribution here.

*Sorry for the geeky board game humor but I can’t help myself.  Next time we play it Eileen, I will own you!  Because I’ve actually been there now and I’m sure that conveys actual skills - probably through subliminal messages via the audio guide.

** Going during the height of the tourist season might not have been the wisest, or least crowded option.

Barcalona

We drove to Barcalona on Wednesday.  I would never want to drive there because that city is huge!   Fortunately I didn't have to.  My husband did.  Thursday we got up, ate breakfast in the hotel and we went to Sagrada Familia.  It was well worth the wait.  It was beautiful!  And while we were waiting in line a man came up to us and gave us the ticket he'd bought for his family to go up the elevator because he had to leave.  So nice!  After lunch we returned to the hotel for a two hour seista since we were trying to adjust to Spainish customs.  Then that night we took the metro to see the Magic Fountain.  

Friday we walked La Rambla and checked out La Boqueria Market.  It was great!  We bought snacks and two fruit juices each.  Then we drove to Taragona.

Montpellier and On

Before we left Paris we saw the Louvre.  My husband spent a significant amount of time in the Gare de Lyon train station picking up a rental car and trying to navigate through Paris by himself after sweet talking Hertz into renting him a car with an expired license that my nephew David had Fed Ex'ed to him after the pick pocketers stole his current one.  ( I guess renting from Hertz 30 times so far this year has paid off for us!). While the rest of us waited for 2 1/2 hours to see the Catacombs.  (A one timer for me.)

We drove down past Dijon and stayed for the night then we arrived in Montpellier.  Monday we checked out the Coloseum in Nimes and on Tuesday we walked around Montpellier, swam in the pool, did some laundry.

Safety First

Because we are so concerned about pick pockets we decided it would be safest to have a moat. So, my husband found a Chateau with one.  

Bonus - my hand was kissed by a Count TWICE!    It was a little exciting.

Not a bonus (because I don't like Microsoft) but interesting.  Bill and Melinda Gates stayed in the same suite on their honeymoon.

French Policeman are Awesome

And not just because they are all about 12, yell at pickpocketers when they arrest them, and drive really fast through red lights when it is totally not necessary. (I know it's not necessary because my dad was State Police for 25 years and I never got to ride in his car with the siren blaring.)  Our detective was a hipster - a skinny jean, scruffy beard, tee-shirt, head-phone wearing hipster. My dad has never worn skinny jeans. Scruffy beard - yes (maybe not scruffy). Tee-shirt - yes. Head-phones - I'm not sure but he probably owns enough technology toys to fill half a Radio Shack - I'm going with yes. Sorry dad, but I'm calling it for the French. The skinny jeans alone tip it over to them.  Sad Face.

Anyway, they sent my husband an email on Friday morning to come pick up some of the euros the pickpockets had stolen.  The wife had turned herself in and said she was really sorry.  We got 120 euros back and four dollars.  (Technically, the four dollars weren't ours but obviously came from some American they'd stolen from and there was no way to know who they belonged to so I kept my mouth shut and pocketed them.)

So, down 60 euros but up four bucks - point to the pickpockets
Two nights in jail vs. 60 euros minus 4 bucks - point to us + police
Surrounded by French citizens and old women making unknown hand gestures - point to us
Great story vs. minimum two nights in jail- point to us

We Win.

The Full On Parisian Experience

We rounded out our French experience today. Yesterday we visited the Musee d'Orsay, Tuilleries, Arc de Triomphe and the Place de la Concord. Today we visited a police station and were treated to a chauffeured ride in the back seat of a siren blaring police car. Elizabeth loved it because we went through red lights at a really high rate of speed! We got pick-pocketed today. I'll write up the whole story tomorrow but I'll admit to a certain sense of satisfaction that the man who stole my husband's wallet is spending at least tonight in jail.

Eiffel Tower

We saw the Eiffel Tower today, yeah that was pretty much all we did if you exclude waiting in lines. We got off our flight, grabbed our luggage (I didn't want to check it because the only other time I've ever been in Paris 16 years ago the baggage handlers were on strike)and waited for a taxi. We made it over to the Eiffel Tower in time to join the crazy long line for going up the stairs which was shorter than the extra crazy long line for the elevator. I tried to talk my kids out of waiting but Brianne and Elizabeth were insistent. So, we also waited in medium crazy line to take the elevator to the top (I was relieved that we walked up the second level too rather than waiting for the stairs) and I waited in three long lines to use the bathroom. Brianne decided to show me that not bringing Will was the right choice as we waited in line to go down the elevator from the top by pinching me and saying, No Eiffel Tower," and "bed, sit please." Eiffel Tower sum up. It's a one time-er. The climb isn't that bad even for a fat old woman. If the line is long the first level is as far as you need to go.

Packing

A conversation with Elizabeth while packing.

I said to Elizabeth, "In Europe they dress up more." 

Elizabeth asked, "Should I bring my sombrero?"

Giggling.

"What do you mean dress up?"

 "They wear nicer clothes."

"Please don't tell me I have to wear a dress everyday."

Summer Plans

Subtitle: Thankfully David doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

We, my husband and I, are taking the three children who don't pinch and scream when forced to wait in lines, fly on a airplane, go to museums and walk long distances to France and Spain in a couple of weeks. And my nephew David is flying here to stay with William while we are gone. David, who wants to be a pediatrician (you are welcome future patients and moms!) is going to check out Will's school while he is here and will learn that Will is a rock star in the severely autistic world and will definitely treat patients with special needs and their families with even more compassion and understanding than he would have. (He is already pretty great - as I doubt many 23 year-olds want to spend their summer vacation and birthday babysitting. And switch around summer plans so they can.)

Coming Home

We are flying home today. But I thought I would give you a fishing update. Dada dada .... Half day of fishing 16 Mahi Mahi caught.

Costa Rica

My husband and I flew to Costa Rica for a work thing. I am his plus one. Basically that means that right now while he is at a work meeting I am sitting by the pool under an umbrella and if I want a drink ... There is a waiter three feet away. Because it is a work thing I am ordering room service every morning. Because I love room service and I never get it. In my next life I want to have room service every other morning. (I just tried to post the picture of my breakfast but it didn't work ... Probably because I am technically challenged.) Tomorrow we are going deep sea fishing and Friday we are going on a zip line canopy tour. This trip is of course, all due to my sister-in-law Dawn who flew out to take care of my kids. Everyone was delighted about that (except one of my kids who would have been able to be their dad's plus one).

Taking some personal days (Let’s just pretend I posted this in March when I actually wrote it)

One of the hardest things about being a stay at home mother besides the dismal pay and the things you have to clean up is the lack of sick and personal days.  Well, I stuck it to THE MAN*  last week!  I took some personal days in spite of him.  The lack of complaining from THE MAN and the suggestion of leaving for two extra days could have made my act of “sticking it to THE MAN” less satisfying but somehow it wasn’t.  (Ha! Take that THE MAN!  I still win!)

I went to visit my family in Utah sans kids.  Heaven, I tell you.  Although strangely enough I missed THE MAN and texted him so perhaps I am a glutton for punishment.

It was a very different vacation than I am used to for example:  1.  I was not pinched once while on an airplane.  2.  No one asked me to repeat their words back to them over and over again.  3.  I didn’t write one social story the whole time I was gone.  4.  I didn’t take anyone else to the bathroom … ever.

And I did adult things.  I went out to eat with my siblings and their spouses and we went to a play.

(*THE MAN in this case being my husband.)

Columbus Day

To celebrate Columbus Day I took my kids to Six Flags because nothing says, “Woot, woot Columbus!” to me as much as going to an amusement park.  Yeah, we’re patriotic like that.

It went much better than last time … mostly because I let Will sit for multiple periods of time and bought him French fries when he asked.  We went on Bizzaro together.  I was surprised since the last time we went to Six Flags Will spent most of the day saying, “No purple roller coaster!” anytime I asked if he wanted to go on a ride.