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Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

Captain’s Log, Day 1 Day .5:

We were supposed to be approaching Easton, Pa. — my father’s homeland — in his RV by now. Yes, an RV. Specifically, an RV filled with my dad, his wife, their four dogs, two birds and cat, plus Eddie, the boys and me.

Pause for Xanax break.

Yet I am writing this at my father’s kitchen table.

Why?

Because my father insists I told him we would leave on July 18 instead of what I actually told him, which was July 14. I even confirmed this via text.

The evidence

He did confirm with the doctor that he could go, and we’ve been talking or texting every other day for weeks.

Those of you who work a regular M-F job know that it would be crazy talk to decide to go on a week-long vacation on a Thursday. You leave on a Saturday so that you only have to take one week of vacation off but you can have more time because of the bookending weekends. Right?

Anyway, my dad got it in his head that we were leaving Thursday, July 18. We were about to leave our house Saturday, July 13, as planned to go to his house but there was a huge storm. I texted him to tell him we’d leave once the storm abated a little. He immediately called me.

Dad: “What are you talking about? Why are you coming up now?”
Me (incredulous): “Because we are leaving to go to Pennsylvania tomorrow.”
Dad (also incredulous): “We aren’t leaving until next week.”
Me: “Um … no, that’s not the plan.”
(Argument ensues.)

No big deal right? He and Kat throw some things in the RV and get ready to go as planned. They are retired, so no worries.

Yeah, well. The RV is in the shop getting a workover and new tires. It won’t be ready until sometime today. Maybe. And in the meantime, we have to look at this:

The eyes, the eyes!

Surely you must remember my stepmother’s particular interest.

If you are a praying person, please do so for me now. If you are not, then simply wish me well.

Updates to come, of course.
Beth

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Dear Procrastinators Anonymous:

My name is Beth and I am a procrastinator. Not all the time, but about certain things. Lately, anyway.

Forgive me, PA, for I have sinned. Repeatedly.

Here’s a rundown of my misdeeds:

1. Dawdled on an article for the local newspaper. I did all the interviews and the research, but couldn’t nail my butt to the chair to write the story.
Outcome: Success. It took 20 minutes. Why did I wait so long?

2. Avoided calling Delta to change flights from summer break to winter because I knew it was going to be a hassle and, possibly, an expensive exchange.
Outcome: Flights changed and I earned a credit because I threatened to cry and/or vomit from the stress and the expense. I was on the phone for more than an hour, though.

3. Dragged my feet on making reservations for a place to stay for the trip above because I’m terrified of getting caught by another rental scam.
Outcome: Made reservations. Still terrified. At least I paid with a credit card this time.

3. Put off reading feedback from certain people in a certain forum because I know one person (or maybe more) hates my guts.
Outcome: Haters gonna hate. Suffice it to say I’ve learned that holding people accountable is not the way to win Miss Congeniality.

4. Dallied in cooking the bacalao Eddie brought home.
Outcome: Have you had bacalao? It’s stinky and time-consuming. You have to soak that stuff before you can cook it. It’s not worth it. I threw it away today. (Don’t tell my mother-in-law. That’d be yet another black mark against me.)

5. Stalled on writing posts for this blog. I’ve had a few ideas, but no strong motivation. And I’m mortified that I’ve slipped to such infrequent updates.
Outcome: Well, you’re reading something, right?

You know what I need? Deadlines. If I don’t have a deadline, it doesn’t get done.

My deadline for this post was yesterday. Oh well.

See you soon,
Beth

Procrastination

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Dear Friends in South Carolina:

I need you to explain something to me. How is it possible that Mark Sanford is a viable candidate for the 1st Congressional District seat vacated by Rep. Tim Scott? I realize that this district skews Republican. I get it. But even Republicans can’t possibly want to vote for THIS Republican.

Let’s recap his behavior as S.C. governor in June 2009:

Sanford and his lady love

Sanford and his lady love

His wife, Jenny, divorced him. Smart lady.

Even people in his own party called him out.

Irrational behavior. Lies, lies, lies. (Sen. Jake Knotts)

Yet S.C. voters haven’t kicked him to the curb. In fact, polls indicate that he and his Democratic rival, Elizabeth Colbert Busch, are neck and neck.

Elizabeth Colbert Busch

Yes, she’s a Democrat asking for a traditionally Republican seat. Yes, she’s the sister of Stephen Colbert, which works against her in some circles. But COME ON!

You’re going to believe THIS guy when he starts talking about ethics and values?

I believe in second chances, but this is ridiculous.

So I ask you, my friends: How is Sanford a viable candidate? Please tell me the polls just made the race look close. Please tell me he won’t win the special election today. Please.

Hello?

Sigh.
Beth

*UPDATE: He freakin’ won!

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Leaf blower jerk

Dear Jackass with a Leaf Blower:

I’m sure you thought you were being efficient by clearing the way for Easter sunrise service attendees.

Sunrise means dawn, though. And the beach is a popular vacation spot. People on vacation like to sleep. Often, they choose the beach so that they can be lulled by the gentle sound of the ocean.
Leaf blowers are not a gentle sound. At 5:19 a.m., they are not a welcome addition to a beach vacation.

What were you blowing, anyway? Tybee isn’t exactly New England in the fall, sporting a lush carpet of leaves.

Were you blowing sand? Why? People coming to a sunrise service at the pier have to accept a little sand. It is the beach, for crying out loud.

If I see you again, I’m going to use your leaf blower for another purpose. (Let me give you a hint: Your next colonoscopy will be easy breezy.)

I want you and your obnoxious friends — you know, the car alarm, barking dog and loud, drunk girl — to get off the island.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Beth
Tybee

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Brownstone Boston

Dear Sean, patron of the Boston bar Brownstone:

I admire your confidence as a single man out on the town. However, I’d like to give you a couple of tips:

1. It is almost always a waste of time to approach two women who are clearly engaged in a serious discussion.

Julia and I hadn’t seen each other in a year. We had to catch up. We saw you staring at us across the counter two feet away, but we did not make eye contact with you for a reason.

2. You are asking for trouble if you try to insert yourself anyway.

I admit that it was an ingenious move to leave your drink on the other side of the counter, then reach through us to retrieve it. Yes, we had to pay attention to you. It was not the kind of attention you wanted, though.

3. Don’t put your coat on top of the coat on the chair of one of the women you want to pick up.

Julia didn’t know you. She didn’t want your nasty coat on top of hers.

4. Come up with better compliments than “I like your glasses” and “I like your curls.”

That’s it? That’s all you had?

5. Dipping is gross.

And if you ARE going to dip, don’t take the wad out of your mouth and stuff it in your pocket when one of the women makes fun of you for dipping. That’s even more disgusting.

6. If women tell you they are gay, that is a clear sign they are not into you.

They may be gay, or they may be heterosexual women claiming to be gay to get you to leave. Either way, they are clearly not an option for you.

Brownstone Boston

See that counter between the pillars? That’s the scene of the crime.

The moment you went to get another drink, we seized our opportunity to escape. I hope you appreciate these tips (and the fact that I brought you your coat before we left).

Better luck next time!
Beth

P.S. If you bear a strong resemblance to Joran van der Sloot, so much the worse for you.

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Dear Dr. G:

Hello, and I hope you are doing well since I last saw you at AEJMC. I’ve been thinking about you lately for a strange reason.

You once called me a dilettante, which made me mad at the time. It wasn’t really accurate for the situation (as I recall, you were upset with me because you wanted me to focus solely on my doctoral work, but I wanted to keep my full-time job, you know, so I could eat and have shelter).

La dilettante

I know your heart was in the right place, and that you were, in your own way, showing confidence in my ability to do scholarly research full time.

Though it may seem like I am a dabbler, it’s not that at all. It’s the opposite, actually. I throw myself into something fully, learn as much as I can, then I move on to something else. More short attention span than dilettante.

sorry-attention-span-length-apology-ecard-someecards

That’s why I have five degrees (yes, five). It is also why my résumé looks like the life of eight different people.

If I could, I’d have more jobs (in addition to the one I have now, which I love). Some of these jobs include:

  • Flight attendant (A waitress in the sky? Yes!)
  • Travel writer
  • Tour guide for some exotic location
  • Cruise ship social director or bartender  (like Julie or Isaac from The Love Boat)
  • Personal chef (Wait … I think I already am.)
  • Character actress (like Rebel Wilson)
  • Personal assistant to someone nearly crazy (Think of the stories I could tell!)
  • NBC page (that’s one of those unfulfilled college ideas)
  • Beta tester for games
  • Game show host
  • Full-time employee at my university’s study-abroad campus in France (!)
  • Owner of a craft brewery
  • PR executive for Disney
  • Train conductor
  • State senator

Maybe Santa can bring me new names for my contact list to help me accomplish my goals.

So yes, I am interested in many things. Dilettante? No. Focused? Yes, for periods of time. Game show host? I can only hope. Thanks for helping me in one of my pursuits.

Anyway, happy holidays, and I look forward to seeing you in Washington, D.C.

Sincerely,
Beth, Aspirational Polymath

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Dear Founding Fathers,

I know you won’t read this because, you know, you are dead and all, but I felt compelled to write.

And say, “Thanks.”

I don’t usually think about the Constitution, the Revolutionary War, and all that freedom jazz on a daily basis. Then I travel. And feel really freakin’ fortunate.

I’ve been roaming around the desert in 90-degree heat with everyone telling me how nice and cool it is now. Abu Dhabi is apparently Satan’s sweaty butt crack in the summer.

Maybe it is the heat that causes the crazy. Or maybe it is the money. New money. Oil money. “Look at me!” money. Shiny things sparkle. The abaya-clad ladies like crows flock to snatch them up, take them back to their concrete nests.

I want to say so much, but I have to tread carefully. There is a new law that says people can’t criticize the government. I think back to the recent U.S. election, a war fought on Facebook, and I have to laugh a little.

I see strange things — strange because of my American eyes. If I were Emirati, though, I would shrug and say, “No problem, no problem.” National Day approaches. It’s like the U.S. Fourth of July. National pride is especially strong right now, as the country celebrates 41 years. In 41 years, this gleaming city has sprung from sand — sand heated and pressed into windows and doors and walls.

Everywhere is something new. Here a new Guggenheim. There an extension of the Louvre. What’s this? A new maritime museum, also by 2030. Or so they say.

And everything has to be bigger, better, first. Tallest building? Check (Burj Khalifa in Dubai, tallest in all three areas of measurement). World’s biggest shopping mall? Check (Dubai Mall). World’s furthest-leaning man-made tower? Check (Capital Gate in Abu Dhabi).

But wait, there’s more.

The Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque (largest mosque in the U.A.E.) alone features the biggest dome in the world, houses the world’s largest hand-knotted carpet, and the biggest chandelier inside a mosque.

Largest mosque in the U.A.E.

World’s largest hand-knotted carpet

 

Biggest chandelier inside a mosque

Ferrari World (world’s largest indoor theme park) features the world’s fastest roller coaster, the Formula Rossa (150 mph). Oh, and the largest logo (on the roof).

The Emirates Palace Hotel (second most expensive hotel ever built [uh oh, what happened there?]) houses the world’s first gold vending machine.

You get the picture.

It smacks of desperation. A new country trying to make a big name for itself. Like the last child who is always the loudest, craving all eyes, all attention, all the love.

Meanwhile, logic has gone on holiday. For example, Al Raha Mall is right across the highway (six lanes) from the place where I am staying. Look at how close it is!

But it takes 15-20 minutes, five miles and four U-turns to get there. There is a flyover exit to get to the building next door, but it is not possible to use the same exit to get to the mall.

Emiratis will hire people to build sturdy concrete walls surrounding construction sites (it’s mandatory to hide them), and then tear down one part of the wall when they decide where the driveway or road needs to go.

The U.A.E. is full of great ideas — flashy, PR opportunities. But built on a foundation of shifting sand. It makes me proud of a similar entrepreneurial spirit — America’s foundation — but the difference is follow-through. And a full plan to start. Here, “no problem, no problem” often is a big problem.

It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.

And I feel so fortunate to live in a place where I can talk some smack.

So thanks.

Stars and stripes forevah,
Beth

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Dear Readers,

On this day of thanksgiving, I want to share with you the (admittedly random) things for which I am thankful, beyond the usual gratefulness for family, friends and health. I am thankful for (in no particular order):

  1. A husband who isn’t a lazy, fat slob (even if he has gone too far the other way and joined the Crossfit Cult)
  2. Artistic children
  3. The Avengers (specifically Thor and Iron Man)
  4. The ability to visit friends in far-flung places such as Abu Dhabi
  5. A job that I love
  6. Funny and talented colleagues
  7. The words “qi,” “za” and “jo” that are so handy in Words With Friends
  8. Apple (in our house: iPhone 5, iPhone 4S, MacBook Air, two iPads, two MacBook Pros and stock in Apple for obvious reasons)
  9. Bacon
  10. Stan Lee
  11. Adobo seasoning
  12. Full-coverage underwear
  13. Crocs (I know they are butt-ugly, but they are so useful)
  14. This
  15. Honey Boo Boo
  16. Puréed pumpkin in the freezer awaiting pie-making at Christmas
  17. Stephen King and his gloriously messed-up imagination
  18. Parker’s growlers
  19. Facebook and Twitter
  20. The word “moist” (A polarizing word, “moist,” but perfectly descriptive)

Here is what I could do without:

  1. The word “penetration” used in sports
  2. Any recent Patricia Cornwell books
  3. Poetry (Sorry.)
  4. Thongs
  5. Green peppers
  6. Mosquitoes, flies, sand gnats, telemarketers, talk show hosts and other pesky creatures
  7. The 24-hour news cycle that causes the focus to be on the salacious rather than the serious
  8. Men who don’t trim their ear and nose hair
  9. Pinterest, Instagram and Tumblr
  10. Any of the “real housewives”
  11. Burlap
  12. Strip malls
  13. Steven Seagal
  14. Fad diets such as Paleo, Zone, Atkins, etc. (just eat more fruits and vegetables, fewer sugary things, and exercise more, people!)
  15. Boys’ pants with unreinforced knees
  16. Knickknacks
  17. Chicago Manual of Style
  18. Anthony Bourdain
  19. Golf
  20. “Talking points” instead of just talking

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Beth

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Vegas, baby

Dear Vegas,

To borrow the words Adam Levine used to describe Nicholas David on “The Voice,” you are so strange and beautiful.

I visited you in April and had a wonderful, over-the-top time. I think, though, that once a year (or even once every year) is my limit.

I visited you last weekend to represent my university at a conference, and you were just overwhelming.

What looked pretty from my hotel room at night was just too much sensory overload — by day and by night. Too much to take in. Everywhere I looked, I saw something out of the ordinary. But that’s how you are. Only in Vegas would you see:

The Grinch hanging out with Alan from “The Hangover.”

Spider-Man watching a breakdancer.

A man wearing a half shirt sleeping at the bus stop.

A window display proudly featuring animal carcasses.

One thing that you can find in any city though, is a crowd of people losing their minds over free stuff at a convention. At the one I attended at the MGM Grand, the swag-happy brought suitcases — suitcases! — to carry their loot.

 

(The tall woman in red is serving as the relayer, passing the boxes of free books to a herd of her compatriots.)It was a feeding frenzy. No exaggeration. And then there was a line at the business center of those same people shipping the swag home at exorbitant rates.

Just too much. I couldn’t take it. I was in bed by 9:30 each night. I’m sorry I wasn’t mentally prepared and able to take advantage of your varied nightlife: shows, showgirls, strippers, etc. Not that I wasn’t invited to partake … repeatedly.

Thanks anyway.

(And I’m also thankful that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I rather like my regular, quiet life.)

See you in a couple of years when I can build up my tolerance for your neon jungle.
Beth

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Desperate but not serious

Dear Adam,

Let me just say right off the bat that I love you. So much. You are perpetually on the top of my “Get Out of Marriage Free” list.

And that’s why I want you to call my husband.

It’s an odd request, I know, but he is part of the Crossfit Cult. He can help you.

Why?

Because this is how you looked the last time in concert:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is how you looked Saturday night at the concert in New York City:

That cummerbund is hiding something I never thought you would have.

I’m not trying to be unkind. This is your first U.S. tour in 17 years. I know you took time off to deal with some personal issues.

I just don’t think you were (or are) taking very good care of yourself. You shouldn’t be winded by the second song. Your leaps and high kicks have become an Ed Grimley-style side twist. Your voice sounded like Marge Simpson’s sisters at certain points. I mean, the audience had to help out with “Beat my Guest,” for crying out loud.

This is not to say it wasn’t a fantastic show. It was. Absolutely. It was just hard to reconcile the Adam I remember with the current you. Granted, you could accuse me of carrying around a little more me also. Touché.

But you are in your late 50s now, and I want you to be healthy so you can do what you love: Create music and perform for fans. (And I still want to meet you.)

So, do us all a favor and call Eddie. He can help you try another flavor, so to speak. Be the dandy highwayman you once were.

And remember, as Whitney said, “I will always love you.”

Vive le Rock,
One of your most devoted Antpeople

 

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