What is the sound of one hand clapping...?

This passes for sparkling dinner conversation at my house:



I love that everyone is so easily entertained. (Myself, included.)

Which way to the Douche-bag exhibit...?

We went to the Orange County Fair on Sunday night. We go at least once a year because they have a great, relatively inexpensive, concert series.

This year we saw Blondie and Pat Benatar.

The price of the concert ticket includes admission to the Fair, so we always go a little early to people watch and eat fried junk food.


We went with good friends and had a nice double date (no kids allowed!)

Now, I did a post on last year's trip to the Fair, and I got comments about the lack of pictures. This year, I took pictures.

When going to the Fair, you should take into account the amount of walking that will be done. From the car out in the far parking lot (because that is always how it goes) to the hiking back and forth all over the fairgrounds, to the standing in lines... comfortable footwear should be the order of the day.


Many, many people didn't get the memo.

 

It will most likely be hot as well, so you may want to consider only wearing one leg-warmer and making sure that your black trench coat only has 3/4 sleeves. Because really? When it is 85 degrees, you are just plain foolish if you wear both leg-warmers and long sleeves.

Because it will be sunny and quite warm, you should apply sunscreen,

 

and wear a hat.

Uncomfortable footwear, paired with an outfit that is uncomfortable for the people around you, sets you up to be the subject of catty-conversations all around the Fair.

 

If you really want to make people uncomfortable, stick your head inside the order window and wag your ass back and forth, making sure to jiggle your white, waffle-patterned thighs at those in line behind you.

Toss back another beer or two and tell yourself, "Damn! I'm lookin' fiiiiiiine."

 

While surreptitiously trying to get a shot of this Studio 54 refugee from the front, when what to our wondering eyes should appear.....?

Yep. Santa Claus.

Driving a Rascal.... Drinking a beer... and eating nachos.

We did learn a few things at the Fair this year....

If you realize someone else has on your outfit, simply don a pair of sunglasses and a wide belt. Put someone in between you and your twin, and no one will notice the little fashion gaffe.

 

If you do your best to win the biggest stuffed animal, you will surely regret it.

 

There are some sad, sad horticulturists out there.


In addition to people mocking watching, we have a few other traditions associated with the Fair.

No trip would be complete without cramming into a photo booth. It cannot be a color photo booth, it must be black and white. (The nostalgic voice in my head says it must be.)

The third picture down?

The face I'm making?

That is what happens when someone says "How many pictures is it taking?" and when someone else (uh, me) starts to say "Four" right at the moment the photo is taken.

Cheese works so much better...

We make sure to eat a bunch of crap and take pictures of the worst food offenders. Although in this picture, I am offending the food.

You don't understand... were it not $6 for this treat, I would have given it a try.

But I spent all of my money on a $6 beer and an $8 corn dog.

Yes, it is a deep fried, cholesterol laden phallus on a stick. The name of the booth was Jumbo Something or Other. I am sure there are other names that would be better.... Size Does Matter? ... Compensating for Something? .... Is That A Corn-Dog In Your Pocket?

Self portrait with the the Cholesterol Pop. Handsome Hubby was kind enough to finish it off for me...

I had already had a beer, or I would have tried one of these. How cool is this VW with a wheat Mohawk and a keg in the the back? Who comes up with this stuff!?

As fun as all the people, the food, and the Fair may be, I am a huge Blondie fan and was so excited to see them. I have seen Pat Benatar many times, and I like her just fine, but I have never seen Blondie.

 

This is one of the bands that shaped my musical tastes and influenced the bands that my kids listen to today. Love!

 

Debbie Harry was HAWT in her heyday, as well as incredibly influential. She's looking a little rough around the edges.... a little "rode hard and put away wet".... but then you stop and think: This woman was around during the beginnings of CBGB's.
She is an icon.
She is 64 years old.
She's still hot.

I was thrilled beyond belief that they played Atomic, my very favorite Blondie song.


They also played Picture This, one of my favorite tracks from the Parallel Lines album.

As much as I am snarky about a lot of the "Fair People" I realized that during this concert, I became one of "those" people that you watch at the fair. Or at least I was one of "those" people to the little turd who sat in front of me at the concert.

I did not get a photo of him, so please work with me and use your imagination:

Please picture a 15 year old walking, talking rectum.
Please picture him wearing a stupid trucker hat (turned around backwards), and those tight, skinny jeans, that are belted just below his scrawny ass.
He has attempted to dress like a streetwise little thug, but that is really hard to do when your entire outfit was once on a mannequin at Abercrombie and Fitch. (South Orange County does not have a large population of authentic Gangstas... Wanna-Be, Poser Douche-bags? Those they've got.)
He has a big earring in each of his ears and is playing with his iPhone, obviously bored out of his mind in the presence of influential music legends.

From the moment Blondie came out on stage, I was on my feet. In fact, my calves hurt the next day from the bouncing I was doing. (You can't dance at your seat, all you can do is wiggle. And boy, did I wiggle!) This kid thought I was the funniest thing ever. He was totally making fun of me. I could tell his (impotent, ineffectual, lame ass) parents were a bit embarrassed by his antics, but I didn't care. I was having too much fun.

I recognized this teenaged douche bag for what he was and just ignored him.
He's making fun of my enthusiasm? Whatever.
He's clapping and yelling in an exaggerated imitation of me? No big deal.

Here's the thing. When Blondie was on stage, I was one of 30 people on their feet in our section... Once Pat Benatar came out, there were only about 20 people not on their feet... in the entire audience. Little Butt-Head was one of them. This little jerk mocked the whole audience.

The light from his iPhone was distracting. He pulled up a little graphic of a hand-gun on it, and kept pretending he was shooting himself in the head (because his horrible parents dragged him to this lame concert, no doubt). I was ready to smack him silly.

Honestly, if you had an unappreciative little Damian of a child, would you #1) pay good money for him to attend a concert he didn't deserve or appreciate; and #2) let him act like that in public?

My kids would never act like that, and if they did, I would not take them out in public. They certainly would not be the proud owners of an iPhone with that behavior.

One of the things that stopped me from giving this kid a shove is that our friend is a police officer, and as much as he likes me, he'd probably have to arrest me for assault. (Deserved or not.)

 

Not the best seats in the world, but good enough for me!

It was a fun night. I saw funny things, (some of which, I ate), I heard great music, spent time with my favorite guy and two of our best friends... and while I sat behind Satan's Imp, I was reminded how blessed I am by my own, well behaved, loving and polite children.

Life is good.

40 is the new 30. Seriously!

My friend Shawn over at Seriously! is turning 39 in a few weeks. In honor of her "last" birthday, she wants to do a swap. (I've participated in 2 other swaps and they were really fun! )

Shawn wants to be 39 and holding, because she is afraid she'll be a wrinkly, early-bird-special-eating, stretch-pants-wearing, leave-the-house-in-curlers, drive-10-miles-under-the-speed-limit, cranky, flatulent old woman once she turns 40.

As one who has just turned 42, I can honestly tell Shawn that I would never eat an Early Bird Special, because it would interfere with cocktail hour. I only drive 10 miles an hour under the speed limit if someone is tailgating and I am screwing with them. If I have become flatulent, I haven't noticed (and no one has told me!) and my eyesight is going, so I don't really see my wrinkles.

So, I am totally in for Shawn's Birthday Swap. And next year, if she does it for the 1st Anniversary of her 39th Birthday, I'll do it again!

Click on this wild lady's picture to go over there and sign up.

I am awesome.

If Handsome Hubby's job is to make the money, and my job is to stretch it as far as possible, then I am Employee of the Week!

I just got back from Kohl's. Today is the last day of their "Spend $50 and get $10 back in Kohl's Cash" promo. I got $60 in Kohl's Cash.

Check out the register tape. Yes, I spent $347, but I saved $907.

Their clearance stuff is amazing!
I got 2 shirts and a belt for Grant;
3 pairs of shorts, 5 pairs of underwear and 7 shirts for Mitch;
5 pairs of shorts, a belt and 5 shirts for Conner;
2 pairs of shorts, a pair of jeans and 9 shirts for Devin;
2 shirts for Handsome Hubby;
a shirt for my FIL for Christmas ('cuz I'm organized that way...);
2 pairs of earrings, 4 necklaces, and a sweater for me ('cuz I deserve it after all my careful shopping);
and a thermometer for our patio.
And was invited to come back next week and pick out $60 worth of free merchandise with my Kohl's Cash.

Oh, and my back to school shopping is done.

I told ya... I'm awesome.

(Now I'm going to clean out closets and do the Hand-Me-Down/Sell-On-Ebay/Donate-To-Charity ritual.)

Camping Is Good (Part 6) ...How We get Ready To Do It All Over Again.

Camping Is Good (Part 1)
Camping Is Good (Part 2)
Camping Is Good (Part 3)
Camping Is Good (Part 4)
Camping Is Good (Part 5)

We love our time camping, and the night before we leave, I am always a bit sad.
Because we have such a long drive ahead of us, we are usually up by 6:30 and try to be pulling out to hit the road by 8:30 or 9:00. Handsome Hubby always says we're leaving at 8:00 but we rarely, if ever, do.

On our last night, we eat up leftovers for dinner. (Leftover steak + leftover chicken = Fajitas!)

Cocktail Hour isn't just sitting around relaxing... it's also taking down the shade tarps and the EZ-Ups. (Although we still do manage to sit around and relax in between little tasks....)
It's doing some preliminary staging so that we can pack up in the morning. I always feel as though our last night in camp just isn't quite as fun because of it, even though it's necessary.

In the morning, we roll the kids out of their sleeping bags and give them a quick bowl of cereal. Tents come down, clothing (dirty and clean alike) gets shoved into duffel bags and big black trash bags even. Food comes out of the bear box and thrown into Rubbermaid bins. The goal is to get the gear packed up and loaded in the trailer. It doesn't have to be perfect or organized, it just has to get into the trailer.

I am completely lame when it comes to rolling up sleeping bags and getting them back into their little nylon bags. My kids are lame at this too. As a result, we have adopted the Fold And Put Into A Bin philosophy when it comes to the sleeping bags. Faster, easier, and no swearing.

We definitely subscribe to the "Leave it better than you found it" philosophy.
Each kid is given a plastic grocery bag and they fan out, eyes peeled, looking for little bits of trash. It is an almost pristine campground, but there are still the occasional twist ties, bottle caps, or those stupid stickers that come on fruit that wind up on the ground. Many of these are from campers prior to us. They are small things, and are easily overlooked.

It is important to instill a sense of responsibility in the kids. Not just making sure we don't leave a mess... but doing the right thing, simply because it needs to be done. Even if you didn't make the mess, clean it up. (We do this at the beach too.)

I load up a new bag of "car snacks" and restock the little cooler we keep in the back of the Suburban. (Waters, sodas, apples, yogurts, etc. ) (Do make sure to have plastic spoons too!) We put on the cleanest and most comfortable clothes we have for the trip home.

Just as we have traditional stops along the trip up to Markleeville, we have traditional stops on the way down as well. We have tried several different lunch spots, but our new favorite is in Lee Vining, CA, a little town off of Highway 395 and the Tioga Pass (which leads to Yosemite).

Lee Vining is just North of June Lake and has a gas station where we really like to eat.
That's right.
A gas station.

Once upon a time there was a kid from San Diego who worked in a restaurant. He was a huge fan of snow skiing, so he moved to Mammoth Mountain and got a job at Whiskey Creek Restaurant. He was a brilliant cook and he eventually worked his way up to executive chef. After a while he teamed up with a gas station owner and the Whoa Nellie Deli came to be.

If you stop in this gas station for a snack, you won't be leaving with a bag of Doritios and a slushie... The menu has everything from gourmet deli sandwiches and burgers, to seared ahi, pistachio-crusted rack of lamb, steak Caesar salads and my favorite that I always end up getting: fish tacos, served with mango salsa, ginger coleslaw and Brazilian black beans. Oh! My! Yum!

You can snag a picnic table outside and there is a beautiful view of Mono Lake.

No dogs allowed though... Corsa gets tied up in the shade by the car. Poor puppy.
(Rebel...)


In the store, we made sure to pick up some postcards to send to my friend Becca at The Texas Darlings. Her kids are trying to collect postcards from every state in the country this summer.

Also? We never pass up the opportunity to have Grant take a picture with a moose.

Once on the road again, the focus always shifts to "making good time." This is not the focus on our way up, but somehow it always becomes the focus on the way home. This year seemed to take longer than normal because I needed to keep stopping every hour to stretch my legs because I had screwed up my back on the camping trip.
I. Am. Old.
With no DVD player (we have one, we just don't hook it up) the boys do a great job of entertaining themselves. Devin created an extra "camper" with a roll of paper towels. Mad Libs are favorites too. (Although all adjectives are poopy or snotty and all nouns are toilets or space ships....)
By the end of the trip, everyone is exhausted.

This year, we got home around 7:30 pm, having left that morning around 9:30. Not bad, all in all.
We bring in the coolers and put that food away, I start a load of laundry. I look through the pile of mail, check the answering machine and check my email.
Oooh! A long, luxurious shower!
The real clean up can start in the morning.

Now because we threw everything into boxes, sort of willy-nilly when packing up, the time to properly clean and organize is at home. I run all of my cookware and dishes through the dishwasher. I wash the dishtowels and pot holders. I make sure my supplies are topped off for next year.

I consult the pad of paper on which I jotted notes while camping. For example, this year I brought up 3 rolls of paper towels and it was not enough. We had to go into town and buy more. Next year I will bring 5.

As I pack up my "kitchen bin", I make a Word Document list of what has gone in there. I lose track of written lists, but I always know where my computer is. I can easily pull this list up next year and see what is in the box.

I have a lot of cooking gadgets and utensils, so in this case, it is helpful to just snap a picture of what is in this box and insert it into my document.

The end result looks like this:


Remember the camp kitchen I showed you from post #2?

Those green canvas bags are perfect for storing paper products, plastic baggies, silverware, etc. There is a list for these as well and then they are ready to go for next year too.

I launder bedding and towels and wrap them up in bags and label them. I won't have to scramble for anything next year. We'll just get it out of our storage shed and load it into our trailer.
As long as this stuff is organized, it is easy. I folded bedding and tied it up in a recycled Target bag. Then I wrote on it with a Sharpie. I'm sure there are camping closets or something, but they aren't necessary.

I also have a packing list for food staples, etc that will be ready to go for me for next year. I always update them after each trip, while it is all fresh in my mind.

Here is all the gear, (in our ugly side yard) waiting for HH to load it into storage.
If you told me we were going camping tomorrow, I would need to make a quick run to the grocery store and pack a bag of clothes, but otherwise, we're ready to go.

I'm sad when our Markleeville trip is over each year, but I console myself that it will be time to go again in just 11 and a half short months!
Grant was sad to leave too. (Wiping tears away with dirty hands = muddy face.)



I hope those of you who love to camp get to go again very soon. Those of you who don't... I hope you give it a try again someday. There just isn't anything quite like it!

Camping Is Good (Part 5) ...Why We Do It.

Camping Is Good (Part 1)
Camping Is Good (Part 2)
Camping Is Good (Part 3)
Camping Is Good (Part 4)

"Once you do something twice, it's tradition."

~ Family Motto

My Uncle Chris took a summer job with the California State Forestry Service when he was in college. He lived in Southern California at the time, but for whatever reason, he was assigned to an area way up North... almost up to Lake Tahoe. The little town was called Markleeville, and Grover Hot Springs had then only very recently become a state park.

He loved it there. He also loved my Aunt Mary Kay, and family lore claims he proposed to her up there. (Many years later, their daughter was proposed to up there by her husband, up near The Creek.)

They began camping there annually. My parents joined them in 1969 (my first year to camp there as well... I was 2.) At times there were two families that camped, other years the group swelled to 5 or 6 families.

Many of our current camping traditions are pages taken from the book of "Well, that's just how we've always done it." In Part 1 of these camping posts I mentioned places we stop on the drive up to camp. In Part 3, I mentioned The Menu and the importance of Cocktail Hour. These things I just do as I was taught.

Traditions change and morph because they have to. If there isn't some room for adaptation, your tradition will go the way of the Do-Do.

One of our traditions held dear is a trip to the Hot Springs, yet it is also a tradition that has changed over the years.

When I was younger, everyone went to the Hot Springs for a soak after dinner. I don't remember my Dad at the Hot Springs. It is only because I have this photo that I know he was even in there. This photo is probably from 1976 or so. I know this because I remember the bathing suits my sister and I are wearing... my Mom sewed an American flag patch on the front, in honor of the bicentennial. (She also cut a hole in the center of our beach towels and made us wear them like lame terry-cloth ponchos... which I've bitched about before.)

When I was a tween and a teenager, the Dads didn't go after dinner anymore, but we kids did. I developed a love for Tom Petty while making the 20 minute walk to the Hot Springs in a group, borrowing my older cousin's walkman. I cannot hear "Magnolia" (off of the You're Gonna Get It album) without thinking of the walk back from the Hot Springs. I could see my feet in the glow of my flashlight and the piano in that song provided a perfect pace for me; my feet keeping perfect time with the piano chords.

Fast forward 25 years. We don't go to the Hot Springs after dinner. It seems that after dinner is taken up with tag in the meadow, s'mores and roasted marshmallows or sitting around playing games. Now the kids all go during the day.

The relaxing feel of night-time has been swapped for breath-taking views.
This should help to give you a sense of scale. Can you see the little brown structure at the bottom of the photo? That is the hot springs and pool facility. The view of the surrounding mountains is to die for.
The hot pool itself is very austere. Not much has changed in 3 decades. The only difference that I can really notice is I now have to pay $5, when it used to be free. As a kid I alternated between the Hot Springs and the cold pool.

This year, as an old lady, I stayed in the Hot springs after my olive oil massage. (Part 4)
Grant, getting ready to go to the Hot Springs, discovered his rash guard was inside-out. Oh, to be 5 years old, with no qualms about standing naked and yelling, "Hey! A little help here....?"

My parents have this photo hanging on the wall in their kitchen. I am the dork on the left who has her hood tied so tightly around her face that it is a wonder her skin isn't blue. I am guessing that my mom is probably about 34 in this photo, and I think she is beautiful.

She brought this up with her this year, and my mom and I drove the through the campground inspecting all of the sites, looking for the rocks where this picture was taken. We took an almost forensic approach, yet couldn't find them. The rangers tried to help us, but told us that sometimes they actually move the smaller rocks around.

I loved this time with my mom. She is just flat out fun to be around, and camping trips with her are always interesting.

I remember that when I was a teenage girl, she was a constant source of embarrassment. As a teenage girl, when I went camping, I was really hunting.... for cute teenage boys. (Heck. Any teenage boys... you're in the mountains and the nearest town has a population of 157.... the pickings are slim.)

One year, my cousin and I actually found a few cute teenage boys and we were hanging out back at our campsite. My cousin and I, and these two cute boys were sitting at the picnic table, when my Mom (who is a nurse) loudly inquires, "Does anyone have diarrhea? Because I have medicine for it." My cousin's mom, my Aunt Pat, states (just as loudly) "Oh! I wish!" My mom (now sounding like a paid advertiser) "Oh!? Constipated?! Take this medicine with water and it will loosen things right up..."

You know, those holes that open up in the ground and swallow you up are never around when you need them....

Time with family is tradition.

The kids love when one of the camping days falls on a Sunday. My mom (aka Gramma O) only eats sugar on Sunday. Monday through Saturday, if it has sugar, it does not pass her lips. However, 11:59 p.m. on Saturday night, she is watching the seconds hand count down until midnight. Literally, it is nothing but sugar on Sundays. I have seen her bite off the ends of a red vine and make it a straw to drink her beer out of. She can eat a 3 pound bag of peanut M&Ms in the course of a Sunday.
>Gramma's appetizer of choice on Sunday? Jelly beans and beer. All of the fun things Gramma does with the kids are even more fun if they're done on a Sunday.

She can always be counted on to bring a craft for the kids....
This year it was painting birdhouses. Last year was stringing bead necklaces.

She is a Scrabble nut. (I'm sure she knows the secret handshake and has Scrabble Fan Club membership jacket.) She is always up for a game with the kids and is especially patient and helpful with the younger ones.
She was like that when I was a kid, and I love watching her do the same things with my children.

Our camping is family time, free from distractions and with no schedule.
All ages roast marshmallows.




I love that my parents gave me this great foundation for tradition. (I meant to grab Handsome Hubby and recreate this pose in The Meadow. We'll do it next year.)

I love that they've passed on the torch of the planning to me, but still come up and participate in everything.
I love that my kids get this quality time with their grandparents, even though they see each other a lot back at home.
I love that we are providing a foundation for this tradition for our kids, and my hope is that they bring their families up here someday.

I love that our tradition is adaptable and that there is always room for old friends to become new campers.


I love that we have a vacation where quality family time is so perfectly meshed with fun activities.


When I lay in the hammock and count my blessings, this experience, this place and the people around me make me feel very blessed, indeed.
As Uncle Chris used to write on The Menu (along with "If you drink it, bring it" )... "Lord willing, we'll all be back next year".

(A very cool camping blog called picturecamping.com saw these posts and featured them. If I have achieved my goal and piqued your interest in camping, go check it out.)