Eccentric Planet

And on to Portland

2011-08-21T16:30:00.000-06:00

We arrived back in Seattle, came off the ferry, and headed to the train station for our trip to Portland to see my old poet friends, Jerry and Mary. The four-hours-or-so train ride through Washington and Oregon was fun. We especially enjoyed the viewing car with window-facing seats.

Jerry picked us up at the train station and we got lunch from a nearby deli, then went back to the house and visited with Jerry's neighbor in her beautiful yard. Later, we walked through the gorgeous rose gardens, where a band was playing, then had a lovely dinner downtown and the requisite (requisite!) visit to the mighty Powell's bookstore.

You should see the poetry section in this place!

Public art?

The next morning, we took a walk with Jerry and Mary through a park near their house, then Jerry took us back downtown to catch our train. On the way, we couldn't resist a stop at the legendary Voodoo Doughnuts.

After our sugar fix and a futile search for a pipe shop, we boarded the train again and headed back to Seattle. I brought along more doughnuts for the ride, just in case. MINE.

After one last night in Seattle, we headed home. Farewell, Pacific Northwest! I hope we'll be back.

Port Townsend

2009-08-07T11:32:00.033-06:00

Port Townsend-bound

Today, walked back over to the market and had pastries and coffee for breakfast, in preparation for our ferry trip over to Port Townsend. I had been looking forward to getting back down to the market area and trying more of the food, and then we walked around a bit enjoying the atmosphere while waiting for our ferry.

Port Townsend is the home of my friend, book producer, and sometimes-agent Lee Ann Chearney lives and works and runs Amaranth Illuminare. I've been working with Lee Ann for many years but rarely get to see her, especially since she left New York, so I am looking forward to visiting her in her new house with her new dog and her new husband (not all that new, but new to me). But first, we had to get there.

Ben always thinks we should be pointing at something.

Once in Port Townsend, we visited Lee Ann's beautiful home, her beautiful yellow Lab, Fortune, and walked around the quaint downtown. We had dinner, and the next day, we visited the Port Townsend Farmer's Market. Then we had breakfast at Sweet Laurette's and afterwards, wandered around town, perusing bookstores and walking down to the water. In the late afternoon, we took the ferry back to Seattle. Lovely day.

This is a very politically correct sort of place.

Mmmmm...

Nerd Day: Valve and Microsoft

2009-08-05T09:59:00.070-06:00

When he cuts his hair and grows a goatee, Ben actually looks a lot like Gordon Freeman.

Do you play Half Life? Portal? Left 4 Dead? Do you sometimes find yourself wondering what Bill Gates was like in high school? Really? Then you might just enjoy these pictures. Others may feel free to skip on to the next day, but Ben sure enjoyed Nerd Day, even though I've never once seen him with a pocket protector.

TRush and Tonjon

At least I'm game enough to wear a Portal Tshirt, even if I've never played the game.

Valve was actually a really cool place. What, you haven't seen enough? O.K., fine.

After we spent the morning at Valve and had lunch there, we hopped on a city bus and made our way over to the Microsoft campus--and it is a campus. Huge. This was a more conventional corporate working environment than Valve, of course, but Ben enjoyed it nevertheless--although I think his heart will always be with those Valve guys.

I didn't realize Ben was so historically influential...

Gift shop smack

After a long day of geekiness, we decided we needed a different kind of culture (or maybe I decided...) so we took the bus back to Seattle and spent the evening at the art museum.

We weren't allowed to take photographs past the lobby, but we loved this cool car exhibit. After going through the museum, we wandered through town for awhile in the dark, looking into interesting shop windows, then ended up at a dark Brazilian-style steak house. Unfortunately, we forgot to take a picture of the name of the place, and it was too dark inside to get good pictures of the food, but it was delicious.

Sea breeze

Wat?

And none too soon!

Tempting nap spot...

Want that chair. Why can't I have it?

Finally, exhausted after another huge day, we headed back to the Red Lion hotel and donned our fancy complimentary bathrobes. Since we'd been nerdy all day, we figured we might as well keep it up.

Tomorrow, it's off to Port Townsend.

Seattle Day 1 - We Savor Seattle

2009-08-04T16:25:00.172-06:00

In August, the kids headed to Camp Wapsie, so Ben and I took the opportunity to go somewhere he loves and I've always wanted to see: Seattle. My friend/book producer/sometimes-agent Lee Ann lives outside the city in Port Townsend, so we arranged to see the city, visit her, and then take the handy train straight down to Portland to visit my poet/professor friends, Jerry and Mary. As we boarded the plane, we were so excited to be heading west for a change. We always seem to go east. We were also eager to be heading north in August, to cool off a bit.

We arrived, settled into our hotel, and walked around a bit to get the lay of the land. I was excited to come upon Dahlia Lounge, a restaurant owned by the famous (in my world) Tom Douglas, but we were too late for dinner so we had a drink, then turned in to prepare for our first full day--I had a big one planned.

In the morning, we headed out for a full day of food tours. First up in the morning: The Pike Place Market Tour, through Savor Seattle. We saw this cool street cart on the way, and met our group at Starbucks (because we're in Seattle). Our friendly tour guide then took us kitty corner from the Starbucks over to the market.

Hooray Seattle, here we come! Does Ben look sufficiently "Western"?

It's not that we *needed* candy for the plane. It's that we *wanted* candy for the plane.

All aboard and ready. I didn't expect the flight to be so long! I guess Seattle's actually really far away from the Midwest compared to, say, New York.


Cool street cart

Ben ordering at Starbucks while we wait to meet our tour.

Mmm, coffee...Ben got the girly drink. I got the latte with soy milk. (Is that also a girly drink?)

And there it is!

Our Savor Seattle tour guide

The market has history

When people start talking about food, I become enraptured. (Dork!)

This is where they throw the fish.

Buskers

Clear rolling papers? Weird.

Full and happy after a morning of food and history, we had a short while before our next tour--the Chocolate and Coffee tour, also through Savor Seattle. We went to our next meeting spot in a hotel, and got a sneak preview of the coffee drink we would receive at the beginning of our tour.

Beginning our tour--with audio

Ben does NOT want to go up there.

We saw these things all over the city. We refrained from boarding any.

Getting closer...oh c'mon Ben, it's the Space Needle! You can't go to Seattle without going up there.

Our lovely and talented Chocolate and Coffee tour guide.

He did it! (But he didn't like it.)

Still not liking it...

Back on the ground, tour over, we wandered around taking funky pics

Why is there a fire hydrant that says IOWA in Seattle?

Ben in front of the famous gum wall--smoking his very first pipe! Yes, this is where it all began.


Heading back after a long and filling day.

Can you believe we were hungry after that? As we wandered back, we were actually a bit woozy after tiny bits of so many different foods, so we had a beer sampler at The Pike Brewing Company, then wandered around the city until we came back to the Dahlia Lounge we'd seen the night before. But across the street was another Tom Douglas spot I'd heard great things about: Lola. We had stopped in for a beautiful dinner, during which we saw--what do you know!--Tom Douglas himself! (That's him, right?) On our way back to the hotel, we took some pictures of the lovely fish lamps at Dahlia, and hope to eat there on another trip.

I'd say we made the most of this day. Tomorrow, it's Ben's turn--we'll head out to Microsoft and Valve, for Computer Geek Day!

Chicago 3 Times in 2009: #2 Theater Friends in Cool Plays

2009-03-27T15:04:00.002-06:00

In March, we headed back to Chicago because both Jane and Karen were doing some serious theater. Jane was in New Anatomies, the story of Isabelle Eberhardt, at 20% Theater and Karen was in The Quiet Man Tales at The Chicago Theater. We really enjoyed both, and so good to see my theater girls! I always miss them. (And theater.)

Before-show nosh

We sure have a lot of pictures of me drinking...

In the audience with Jamie and Cheryl, waiting for Jane's show to start

Out with Karen after her show

The morning after the last show, we checked out of our usual hotel, the Congress Plaza Hotel on Michigan Avenue, just after a crisp snowfall. On the way home, we stopped at the Chicago Diner, a vegetarian restaurant I have always wanted to visit. So delicious...

Snowy Michigan Avenue

The Congress Hotel has had a picket line out front for years now. Are we bad for crossing it? Is this why the beautiful rooms are so reasonably prized?

Ben waiting for the valet to bring the car.

I'm finally going to get to eat here!

Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about...

Chicago 3 Times in 2009: #1 Chicago Auto Show

2009-02-11T12:16:00.001-06:00

It's high time to catch up on two years of trips. To begin, let's go back, back, all the way back to 2009, the year we went to Chicago three times. The first was for the Chicago Auto Show, which happened to coincide with Restaurant Week. This was the year we went to Chicago instead of to New York for the dog show. (Don't worry, we hit that in 2010 and 2011. Stay tuned.)

Here are the cars we saw. Ben can tell you a lot more about them than I can, but I thought many of them looked pretty cool.


Chicago Auto Show 2009

I'm only agreeing to go to the Auto Show if I get breakfast in a bar first.

That weekend, we also ate at Tizi Melloul (now closed, sadly) and Nick's Fishmarket, for Restaurant Week. We loved the fun atmosphere of Tizi Melloul and the multi-course Middle Eastern meal. And cool red bathrooms. We were less impressed with Nick's Fishmarket, although the chopped salad and desserts were delicious.

Tizi Melloul--so exotic!

Awesome bathrooms

Really?

Nick's Fishmarket

Dinner: Meh...

Trying to get a GPS signal--darned tall buildings!

Mannequins in Chicago have nipples.

SERIOUSLY, we need a signal, we have no idea where we are going!

Let's just go. We'll find our way.

Snow sculptures on Michigan Avenue

One of my favorite breakfast places, right on Michigan Avenue a few blocks from the Congress Hotel

And it's always great to see Jane and Cheryl when we visit Chicago! Until next time...

Oaxaca Farewell

2009-01-03T14:17:00.000-06:00

On New Year's Day, we did all our last minute shopping, wandering, each of us saying our own private kinds of farewell to Mexico. Ben and Amy spotted a New Year's Day bus parade, which the rest of us missed. We wandered with a little melancholy. We went out for one last dinner.

On our last day, January 2, 2009, we left Oaxaca. When we woke up that morning, the Martins were already gone. We loaded up with our loot (which ended up not being all that much), caught a taxi to the airport, and headed for home.

Or, that was our intention. But our flight from Oaxaca was late, which meant we missed our flight in Mexico City. After much anguish about what to do and no help from Northwest Airlines, we found out from a helpful good Samaritan that Mexicana airlines would take the blame. After lots of waiting and a few hours in their office straightening everything out, they paid for us to stay at their airport hotel. They also paid for three meals.

This was all, actually, quite nice. The kids got to relax in a posh room. Ben and I got to have a drink at the hotel bar and spend some time alone. They even knew how to make real martinis! We took fun pictures in the arty lobby and enjoyed the last of the warm air. A quick call to my parents (courtesy of the airlines) confirmed that our pet sitter could stay another night, so we had no worries, and still a day to spare before school starts. Nice.

We headed out the next morning, got coffee at the airport, and plundered the duty-free shop for tequila, vodka, and cigarettes (maybe these will be Ben's last cigarettes!). We are heading home to our frugality month with the Martins--every January, we have a contest to see who can spend the least. It starts as soon as we get home. So, at least we'll have the means to have a drink when we are roughing it without our usual too-expensive food!

Finally, we arrived back home--or, to O'Hare in Chicago. We sailed through customs and finally stepped outside into the fresh cold air of the United States. The world looked gray. We all knew we were just one day from school and work. And yet, when we did finally arrive home after our drive from Chicago, the dogs were so happy to see us, and the birds, too. The house was warm and familiar, and everyone was very, very happy to be home.

But I'd go back tomorrow.

Oaxaca New Year

2008-12-31T13:26:00.000-06:00

I was feeling much better the next day, which was New Year's Eve, when we went to see El Tule, one of Latin America's largest trees. We took a short second-class bus ride to Santa Maria del Tule, where this tree lives. The town is built around the tree, and they charge just a few pesos to go inside the gate and get a closer look. You can't climb it, of course, much to the boys' disappointment. It really was amazing to see this monster tree. Pictures can't capture its magnitude or sagaciousness. Even the kids were temporarily in awe.

After a quick lunch (I was still too queasy to eat, but the rest had more Tlayudas), we headed back for New Year's Eve on the zocalo. As we expected, it was fun, festive, and crazy, with fireworks going off everywhere, long into the night.

I think this was the 6th New Year's Eve in a row that I kissed Ben at the stroke of midnight. That's a pretty good record, I'd say. My best yet, at least. I don't have a picture of that, though. You'll just have to imagine.

Back to Oaxaca City, Day...um...who knows anymore?

2008-12-29T20:36:00.003-06:00

We're back in Oaxaca City, and it's good to be back. The city feels familiar now, almost homey, and because we are staying in a hotel right off the zocalo, we feel more comfortable letting the kids come and go as they please--and coming and going as we please, too.

We spent our last few days in Oaxaca doing last minute shopping, visiting some sites we hadn't seen yet, and trying new things we didn't try our first time here, like Tlayudas, the popular Oaxacan giant tortilla stuffed with vegetables, cheese, meat, or whatever you choose, cooked on an outdoor fire.

I was very excited about taking a cooking class at Casa de los Sabores, but unfortunately, I got very sick that day. I tried to do it, but I had to leave before the first hour was over, while everyone was still buying food at the market. So disappointing! The rest of our group had gone off to Mitla to see the ruins and the town there, and I spent the day lying in bed, groaning and watching American movies on the television dubbed into Spanish. Apparently they had their best meal ever, saw really cool ruins, and Angus met some fellow teen skate punks, including a friendly American kid = living in Mexico with missionary parents. After the bus ride home, they checked on me, got me some 7-up, and went to the zocalo for dinner. Here's what I missed:

Puerto Escondido for a week--but who's counting?

2008-12-28T17:10:00.001-06:00

Ah, the beach. The beautiful, warm, sunny beach with its crystal water, rocky reefs, snorkeling, schools of blue tangs and butterfly fish, tanning, swimming, riding on boats...it was paradise.

After a hard 12 hour bus ride characterized by more narrow roads and hairpin turns, nausea, restlessness, and the occasional vomiting session, we arrived in Puerto Escondido. As soon as we stepped into the warm air and saw the sparkling Pacific ocean, the rigors and pains of the bus ride dissipated. We spent an idyllic week in this little town, including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, basking in the sun, shopping, swimming, eating, and basking some more. I'm not even going to keep track of the days because that would be a false sense of what it was like. The most we could muster was a vague awareness that hey, today is Christmas!

We stayed in a little gated community full of expatriates just above Playa Manzanillo (where we spent most days) and just down the road from Playa Carazalillo (where we spent Christmas day). We also spent a day at Playa Zicatela, with the huge surf-worthy waves, where the boys imperiled themselves.

We all had our days of nausea and food poisoning, sure. But that's not what I remember. I remember the gorgeous rooftop view, hammocks, balmy breezes, the sound of the palm trees, the beautiful pool, the flowers, the birds, the sun...o.k., leave me alone now, I need to sit here and remember how great it was. Just look at the pictures.

We weren't too happy to leave and get back on that bus...

Oaxaca Christmas at Mount Alban, Day 4

2008-12-21T15:24:00.009-06:00

This morning, it was time to change the scenery...time to visit the ruins. Going to Mexico means visiting ruins, right? Of course it does. But first, breakfast. We awoke to fresh pineapple and papaya fruit salad, granola, sweet bread, yogurt, butter--the usual. Our entree today consisted of beautiful tamales wrapped in squash blossoms and folded inside corn husks. Some had chicken inside. Others (including mine, thankfully) did not. We weren't sure why. Pilar came in with a Golden Retriever puppy, which added some liveliness to breakfast.

After breakfast and much-needed showers, we were off to the market to buy a picnic lunch, and then to catch a bus to Mount Alban, the most famous ruins in the region, ancient home to the Zapotec Indians.

The bus ride was short but harrowing, screaming around narrow hairpin turns. Amy couldn't help shreiking and we were all a little nerve-wracked, but we arrived safely at the top. We climbed a small hill and entered the grounds of Mount Alban. We explored the museum a bit, then walked out into the erstwhile city. One of the first things we saw was an impressive whirlwind in the dust. We watched, enraptured, then started to explore the city. This involved a lot of climbing.

Everyone was tired so at last we headed back on the bus. Back in Oaxaca City, we stopped into a chocolate shop for a few minutes, to watch them grind cacao, almonds, and cinnamon into a syrup that poured over sugar, then grind that mixture into powder. That night, we went out to an Italian restaurant for dinner. It was o.k., but the service wasn't very good and they made Ben's martini with black olive slices from the pizza. Weird. We were all a little tired and cranky and snappy, and afterwards, we waited while Nick had to stand on line at the all-night Farmacia for what seemed like hours, to get some dramamine. We were preparing for our bus ride to Puerto Escondido, and we had a feeling we would need it.

Oaxaca Christmas Festival of Lights, Day 3

2008-12-20T13:03:00.001-06:00

This morning, we awoke to a breakfast of papaya and kiwi, fresh orange-celery juice, and huevos rancheros with two sauces. We enjoyed a relaxing morning before heading out for another gorgeous, warm, sunny day.

Angus was itching to go skateboarding, so we took him to a nearby park, where, reportedly, skateboarders hang out. The kids ran around, climbed trees, and Angus spent a lot of time working on his mad skills. He even exchanged a few words with some local skateboarders.

Ben and the Martins eventually got tired of watching and went on to check out the Santo Domingo church--famous in Oaxaca for being profusely gilded.

Later, we all met in the market for shopping, and I bought myself and the boys some shoes. Exchanging money, wandering around town, then, it was back to the zocalo to explore and watch the people.

That evening in the zocalo, we found out, was the Festival of Lights, an exuberant Christmas festival with lots of people. Emmett got the first of many shoe shines, and all the boys had fun with sparklers. A strolling guitarist stopped at our table, and Emmett requested La Bamba, then jumped up to sing along.
In the middle of the zocalo was a walk-through nativity scene, with lights everywhere, and a parade of people in costume. We all enjoyed staying up late.

Oaxaca Christmas, Day 2

2008-12-19T16:26:00.010-06:00

This morning, we woke up in Mexico, in our comfortable beds in our beautiful rooms decorated with antique furniture and local artwork. We emerged from our rooms to find the table beautifully set and already filled with fresh pineapple and strawberries, homemade granola rich with millet, almonds, pepitas, and honey, fresh yogurt, hot coffee and hot chocolate, and fresh bread with butter. The girls who worked at the B&B were busy preparing something that smelled delicious. They poured us fresh juice and then brought us steaming plates of hot tortillas and cheese with tomatoes and guacamole.

After breakfast, we went out onto our flower-bedecked rooftop to feel the sun. Then we wandered around the town, getting our bearings. We walked through an old church near our B&B, then went shopping at the Mujeres Artesanias de las Regiones de Oaxaca, a collective of women artists from Oaxaca. Angus bought a hammock and Emmett bought a little wooden figurine of a skeleton--his "day of the dead guy." Amy and I bought clothes and when the men got bored, they left. We all met up later at the zocalo for a drink and to give the kids a chance to run around some more. Of course, Ben had to take one of his famous pictures of himself in the bathroom.

We also wandered around the local markets, Angus had some fun skateboarding along the streets, and Amy got one of the military guys to pose for a picture.

That night, we had dinner at La Olla, the restaurant owned by Pilar, who also runs the B&B where we are staying. After dinner, we went to the rooftop to enjoy the view, then strolled home through the city.

Christmas in Oaxaca, Mexico: Day 1

2008-12-18T15:32:00.002-06:00

It was a deep, dark December day in Iowa. Cold, grey, snowy...did I mention cold? And yet, in our household, spirits soared and everyone felt toasty-warm with the knowledge that we were about to head to Oaxaca, Mexico, for 2-1/2 glorious weeks of warmth, snorkeling, shopping, snoozing in hammocks, and more warmth.

But first, we had to get there. That involved a drive to Chicago, an overnight in a hotel, a flight to Detroit, a flight to Mexico City where we met the Martin family and Ben got temporarily stuck outside when they wouldn't let him in without his boarding pass and he couldn't get in to get his boarding pass (the hazards of going out for a smoke break), and finally, a flight to Oaxaca City. Somehow, it all managed to happen and there we were, the eight of us, stepping out of a little plane onto the tarmac in Mexico to palm trees, a warm breeze, a starry sky, and the giddy punchy feeling of travelling for too long and finally being somewhere very special.

We took a cab to our bed-and-breakfast, La Casa de los Sabores, a beautiful little building in the historic district with an open air center, a gorgeous kitchen, and a bedroom for each couple and each set of brothers. Before turning in, we walked to the town center--the zocola. We sat and sipped drinks and had dinner while the kids ran around and played. Vendors tried to sell us things, and we bought some of them. We relaxed and marvelled that we were actually here, and planned what we might do tomorrow.

Muncie, Indiana: Paradise?

2008-09-02T11:20:00.002-06:00

The other day, I asked the kids: "Of all the places we've ever been, where would you most like to go again? Tampa? Gulf Shores? New Orleans? Graceland?"

"Muncie, Indiana!" they both exclaimed in unison.

Huh.

Well, Ben is from Muncie, and his folks live there in a cool house on the river, and the kids really enjoy visiting. This past Labor Day, that's where we went for the long weekend. I guess it was a hit. So, there you have it. How can not regale you with the photo evidence?

Chicago, No Kids, Days 2 and 3

2008-07-22T19:51:00.010-06:00

Today, we wandered around the city and the parks some more, checking out the Grant Park Fountain and the Gehry bridge.

We were on our way to see art--specifically, the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art. We couldn't take any pictures of that (no cameras allowed), but Ben snapped a few of other interesting things.

On the way back, we were hungry and thirsty, so we stopped into a little bar we just happened to see, called the Rush Street Grill, for a snack (steak salad, one of Ben's favorites) and a couple of drinks. Then, we strolled back over the river and back to the hotel for a catnap.

Later, we took a cab to meet my friends, Jane, Jamie, and Cheryl. They live in Chicago but I hardly ever see them. Because that's how life goes when you have kids. And since on this trip, we have no kids...We had a great dinner at The Spot, which is part Cheryl's restaurant/bar, then Ben and I hung around until late-late, drinking and listening to the great music upstairs with Cheryl (Jane and Jamie, who were not kid-free this weekend, had to go home). Then, Cheryl took us over to the Green Mill to hear good jazz, but alas, the band was already done for the evening. She also took us to this other place...but I have to admit that I don't even remember where it was. It was really late. We'd had a lot of drinks. As the sun was coming up, we headed back to our hotel. So great to see you guys again!!

>On our final day in Chicago, we went to the Art Institute of Chicago, which was free that afternoon (since we didn't get home until the wee hours of the morning, we didn't get up until afternoon). We spent a long time looking at art, then had a fabulous tapas dinner at Mercat a la Planxa, right near our hotel.

After dinner, we wandered around the big fountain in the dark, watching the light show. We left the next morning for home, happily fulfilled and feeling like real-life adults after our kid-free trip. Hey, maybe we should do this more often.

Chicago, No Kids Allowed

2008-07-21T12:00:00.005-06:00

This July, when the kids went off to Camp Wapsie, Ben and I decided to take a trip, all by ourselves. (This picture, above, is us reflected in "The Bean.") But wait--a trip that had nothing to do with work or family? Are we completely insane? Yes, we are! We managed a whole weekend in Chicago. Without a computer. (O.K., I did have my Blackberry.)

We drove, borrowing my parents' Garmin. We timed it so the traffic wasn't so bad, and arrived at the Congress Hotel in the afternoon. This is right across from Grant Park and just a few blocks from Millenium park, so we stopped in the hotel bar for a drink (the bar was interesting, covered in copper), then wandered around the city for awhile. We always enjoy the spitting fountain in Millenium Park, the interesting scrunched-up Gehry architecture (we still aren't sure whether or not we like it), and of course, taking funky pictures of ourselves reflected in "The Bean."

Using the trusty Garmin in "pedestrian" mode, we wandered in the direction of dinner, at Rick Bayless's famous Frontera Grill. I have always wanted to go here. I'm a big fan. We had to wait, but the wait was worth it (made easier by amazing appetizers and pretty-good margaritas).

After dinner, guess who we saw??? Yes! (For you non-foodies, this is Rick Bayless, standing behind me. If the staff hadn't told us he was not working and trying to have a nice quiet dinner with his wife, I SO would have asked for his autograph!)

After leaving Frontera, full and satisfied, we meandered over to Andy's jazz club. We had a good time, even if we didn't care much for the band, which I thought was boring. (So I won't mention their names.)

The Big Easy for Families, or, Why Bourbon Street is Rated R, Even During the Day

2008-07-04T14:57:00.011-06:00

I have taken months to finally put up this post, just because of my super-busy book deadline schedule. However, better late than never. Before we take our next trip to Chicago, I need to finish filling you in on our Alabama spring break vacation.

On the way home from Gulf Shores, we took a slight detour through New Orleans. Ben and I had been there before Hurricane Katrina, but not since. Plus, we thought this would be a good experience for the kids. We drove through swamps and over the bayou. Coming into town, we saw a lot of destruction.

But by the time we got to the French Quarter, everything looked fine. We checked into our beautiful hotel, Le Pavilion--a splurge, but worth it.

Then we headed out to Mothers for lunch. I've since learned you are supposed to go there for breakfast, not lunch. Oh well, we wanted to sample New Orleans cuisine so we tried a little of everything--crawfish etouffe, jambalaya, bread pudding, po' boys, etc.

The kids were game and sampled many things, although they weren't particularly crazy about any of them. I think the food was a bit bland, maybe for tourists? Not what I expected. But it was a fun experience nevertheless. Down-and-dirty.

Then, we decided to walk around the French Quarter and check out Bourbon Street. I figured this would be fine during the day, and the boys, being fairly worldly at ages 9 and 12, would be fine. They were fine, all right--especially when the bikini-clad strippers came out on one of the balconies over a strip club and threw beads to them. Oh yeah, they treasure those beads. I also had forgotten how blatantly pornographic some of the signs are outside the strip clubs, not to mention the racy merchandise in all the stores. Until the stripper incident, the boys were actually pretty bored, but that perked them up. Then we found a voodoo store, and they thought that was pretty cool, too. Emmett bought a power charm. Angus bought a voodoo doll. Emmett already had a voodoo doll from the hotel gift bag, so they spent some time practicing trying to voodoo each other ("Now close your eyes and tell me where you feel a pain...").

After a long day of walking around, we went back to the hotel and swam on the rooftop pool, which was very very nice. Ben and I ordered Hurricanes and I spent some time in the jacuzzi. When an employee came up to ask if we were throwing water off the side of the roof onto the now-angry guests, I said "Of course not!" Then Angus sheepishly admitted that he had thrown a cup of water at Emmett, Emmett had ducked, and it had indeed gone overboard. How embarrassing--fortunately the hotel employee didn't chastise us but instead admitted that she had grandsons. (But she did tell them not to do it anymore.)

Ben and I spent the evening in the hotel bar while the boys watched TV in the room (no evening Bourbon Street for us on this trip).

The next morning, Ben and Emmett stepped outside and then called the room because thousands of people were running by the front of the hotel. It was some kind of marathon, but in New Orleans, that means many of the runners were carrying kegs of beer on their backs, or pulling beer in a wagon behind them. Emmett ran along for awhile, came back, ran along again, came back. After that, we had a very nice breakfast included in our hotel package.

The package also included free tickets to the aquarium, so the next morning, we packed up, visited the aquarium, then headed north. We stayed in a hotel that night just outside St. Louis, then met Nick and Amy at Amy's parents' house in St. Louis to spend Easter there. We ate and chatted. About mid-afternoon, we switched passengers around a bit to mix things up. I drove Amy and Angus home, while Nick drove Ben, Emmett, Riley, and Lucas home.

And that was the end of our eventful and, in retrospect, wildly varied spring break. I think we should do it again next year.

Alabama Appetites

2008-04-25T08:33:00.005-06:00

Royal Reds, the king of shrimp. We had them for dinner one evening, and as is usual when our family travels, we eat out a lot. Here are some of the highlights of our food-related adventures in Alabama.

One evening, we went for seafood at Geno's Fresh Catch Grill, where we had oysters and fresh local crab.

Afterwards, Emmett got dessert at the ice cream place a few doors down (everybody else was full).

On a sunny afternoon, we had lunch at Flora-bama, a bar and road house on the beach, just over the Florida border. Emmett tried and conquered his very first oyster! I didn't see it but other bar patrons confirmed, so I was forced to believe. We ran out onto the beach after lunch and touched the Gulf on the Florida side, just to say we had done it.

One day, Ben and I went to Blalock's Seafood and Gourmet Market and bought Royal Red shrimp (a variety of deep-water shrimp that almost tastes like lobster), plus smaller shrimp for the kids. They liked the Royal Reds better! We had a deliciously decadent dinner in the condo, feasting on crustaceans.

One night, we went across the street for Mexican food and we all practiced our various languages. I tried Spanish, Emmett spoke French, Jack spoke Japanese, and the waiter informed us (because we asked) that currently, there are approximately ten pesos in one dollar. We wanted to go to Fort Morgan, but Ann and Jack weren't feeling well and the kids were having so much fun at the beach that we never got there. Next time.

And of course, we can't forget our breakfast at the Waffle House.

On the last night, we cleaned up all our mess. We leave a day before Ann and Jack so we can get to New Orleans. We haven't been there since Hurricane Katrina and we want to see how they are doing--and contribute our tourism dollars. I didn't quite finish Travels with Charley so I'll have to finish it when I get home--I need to return it to the lending library. Friday morning, we said farewell to Orange Beach and to Ann and Jack, and headed due west for the Big Easy.

Good-bye Orange Beach! And thanks, Ann!

Taking Our Relationship with the Sun to the Next Level

2008-04-03T15:26:00.012-06:00

This morning, the kids and I woke up early and went down to the beach right away. I brought my laptop down and sat on the cushioned loungers with the sun shades to work on this blog, while the kids played in the surf. It was extremely windy and the red flags in front of the condo were flying, signaling hazardous surf in the form of rip tides and undertows. With the promise to be sensible (or “sensibly unsensible,” as they put it), the boys went in anyway. The water is so cold, I don’t see how they can do it, but I guess it’s because they’re kids. The surf was wild, with waves far bigger than the kids. You wouldn’t know it was the Gulf—at least not the placid summer Gulf I’m used to seeing. Although thinking back to childhood, I do remember a more vigorous springtime Gulf.

After awhile, we moved to the pool, then back upstairs for breakfast. And so went the week--lots of beach.

One day, we went back for plastic shovels, so the boys could dig a giant hole. (And as an air guitar prop, apparently.)

Digging is serious business, as you can see:

The rest of the week, it was pretty much all about the beach.

Remembering the Sun

2008-04-03T15:22:00.007-06:00

On our first full day in Orange Beach, Alabama, we had one mission, and one mission only: to thaw our poor Iowa bones on the beach.

I got up with the kids at about 7:30 and cooked breakfast burritos with bacon, egg, and cheese. Emmett was in the pool by 8:30 a.m., and on the beach by 9:30. We sat out on the balcony with Ann and Jack (Ben's parents) and enjoyed the beautiful morning while we drank our coffee.

But Angus needed supplies, so we headed over to Gulf Shores, to find a souvenir shop I’d seen on the Internet with a large shark built into the structure. The door was his mouth. Angus needed a swimsuit because he’d outgrown his old one. He also needed a skim board, sunglasses, and flip-flops. Emmett needed a body board and goggles, Ben needed a hat, etc. (I use the term “needed” loosely.)

But bathing suits were incredibly expensive at Souvenir City. Ben did find a $5.00 hat on clearance—a black cowboy-style hat that suits him—and Angus found some reasonably priced sunglasses (which he hasn’t worn since) and some cheap flip-flops from a huge selection. We bought Emmett a body board and tried another chain, Alvin’s Island, which did have swimsuits at a cheap price that Angus liked just fine. The really good skim boards with a foam core were around $100 so we searched and searched for a wooden one that wasn’t warped—and actually found one for $7.99.

Yet, I mourn the demise of the small independently owned souvenir shop on the beach. I didn't see even one.

I dropped everyone off at the condo after shopping because I still had to go to the grocery store to get food for dinner. I went to Winn-Dixie and got fresh snapper (they didn’t have fresh shrimp, I’ll go to a shrimp store later in the week for that) and some smoked pork and shrimp Cajun sausage for the boys. I got a bunch of avocados, limes, milk, juice, turbinado sugar for Ben’s coffee, juice, soda, beer, etc. You know, the bare essentials. I was hoping to get ingredients for margaritas but the liquor stores are closed on Sundays.

Back at the condo, I hit the beach. Everybody else was already out there. The boys body-boarded, skim-boarded, swam, and went back and forth between the beach and the pool, with occasional breaks inside for food or rest.

Ben and I walked down to a pier, probably about a half mile away, taking pictures (including a picture of Ben under the pier, just to prove he really walked all the way there with me) and enjoying the beautiful cool sunny weather. On the way back, we passed groups of tan, muscular boys in baggy swimsuits trying to pick up groups of tan, leggy girls in bikinis. Obviously, it's spring break. The boys so excited and hopeful, the girls so beautiful and blase'. We also walked past a sand sculptor who had made a sea turtle and a cool painted hammerhead shark. He was spraying the sand with paint and a group of kids watched in fascination.

Here's Ben, setting a bad example for the youngsters on the beach.

I felt so relieved (there is no other word) to be back in the sea air with the sound of waves, the sun. I could feel all my stress melting away in the sun and with every breath of the salty air. I think I should live on the beach. Ah well, maybe someday…and doesn't everyone say that when they go on vacation? A group of spring-break boys on the beach decided to dig a giant moat around a big mountain (in front of a group of spring break girls, of course). They worked in earnest for hours. When someone asked them what they were doing, they said, "Something memorable!"

The red flag signals the dangerous surf, but that didn't keep the kids from skim boarding and playing the waves all afternoon.

After awhile, I went in to start dinner. I made a big salad, guacamole with corn chips, and put out salsa Ann had bought. I baked the fish (covered in butter, lime juice, garlic, and Carribean seasoning salt) and the sausage in the oven. We all sat down together with Ann and Jack for a laid-back dinner…and forgot to take a single picture of the food! (I hate it when that happens.) When we realized we were missing the sunset, Ben raced downstairs to catch the end of it.

Not long afterwards, exhausted from a full day outside, everyone fell asleep early.

It was a good day.

Goin' to Graceland...

2008-03-19T08:56:00.013-06:00

When a person dabbles in the professional music scene, and another person, to whom the first person is amorously connected, used to own a club and be a sound man, and when a person’s two children show distinct musical talent at, say, the drums and the guitar, then a person, if happening to pass through Memphis, really ought to go to Graceland. Don’t you agree?

So, when we awoke at about 8:30, having slept later than usual because of our late-night hailstorm adventure, we got up, had some free Ramada Limited breakfast
(hardboiled eggs, biscuits with sausage gravy, cheese Danish, peanut butter English muffin, banana, coffee, milk, juice—I’m including everyone here, not just me), and piled into the car to begin our Elvis odyssey.

I guess it wasn’t really an Odyssey. Graceland is expensive—significantly higher than the hotel brochure said it would be ($27.00 per adult, $16 per child), and that was for the bare-bones tour without the car museum and Lisa Marie’s plane. You buy your ticket and then you have to wait for about 40 minutes. At least, that’s how long we had to wait. They told us it would be 40 minutes before they called our group. Of course, that gave us plenty of time to browse the many Elvis shops and restaurants, all hoping to get us to spend our hard-earned cash on Elvis paraphernalia. Angus did buy something to drink, and I had some coffee, but otherwise we were remarkably restrained. It was interesting enough to walk around and look at everything—the sequined suit replicas, the 1950s-style diner, the restaurant with the table built into a car…all kitschy of course, but fun, too, and Elvis music playing all the while.

When they did call our group, we got in line and they handed us little radios to hang around our necks, with headphones, for the audio tour. Mine was in Spanish but an efficient employee quickly switched it back to English. We all pushed buttons, even though we weren’t really supposed to yet. Then we had to endure the whole “we have to take your picture but you don’t have to buy it” routine that has become a staple in amusement parks (“Here’s you screaming your lungs out on the roller coaster, two 5x7s and a key chain fob for just $29.99!”). But the woman lining us up and the photographer were good-humored folks, joking with us and obviously enjoying their jobs. And that’s always a pleasure to see, in my opinion: happy people.

At last it was our turn to board the small bus that would take us across the street to The Mansion. We were surprised at how small, even modest, the mansion was. It wasn’t a pretentious display of wealth, like you might expect. I didn’t know much about Elvis before (admittedly) but he was a kind, generous, giving person and the tour gave me a new appreciation for who he was and what he accomplished, always with gratitude and yes, grace.

We were instructed to begin our audio tour and walked through the mansion, as the tour kindly suggested, in order and with an ongoing narrative, including lots of sound bites from Priscilla and Lisa Marie. It was actually very interesting.

We started in the living room, with the 15 foot white sofa.

We peeked into Elvis’s parent’s room. As you probably know, Elvis was born in a tiny house into a very poor life, and he wanted more than anything to be sure his parents, who had given him such a solid upbringing, would be comfortable.

The dining room was beautiful in a 1960s sort of way, with lots of blue and silver.

The mod 1970s style kitchen was, according to Lisa Marie, the hub of the house, with people coming and going and eating at all hours and always somewhere there to cook.

Downstairs, Elvis had a pool room covered in fabric with a pleated fabric ceiling, and a jungle room with amazing furniture featuring thick arms and backs of carved wood. A rounded chair was Lisa Marie’s favorite, and Elvis recorded a few songs down here.

Outside was a carport where Elvis kept his cars and go-karts, as well as a big pasture for horses. They still keep horses there. Lisa Marie said Elvis and his friends liked to jump into the go-karts or onto the horses and ride all around the yard, and sometimes out into the road, and they never got stopped by the police. Lisa Marie’s swing set still stands outside, too.

Later, Elvis built an outbuilding with an indoor racquetball court, the office where a small staff managed his affairs, a small brick shooting range, and a mod seating area where Elvis played the piano and hung out with friends the day he died.

The racquetball court, with its high ceiling, now houses floor-to-ceiling gold records and other memorabilia, plus a television with a video showing Elvis singing “How Great Thou Art” in a stadium. Another building, the Trophy Building, has all his awards, commendations, more gold and platinum records, and memorabilia from his movie career and subsequent return to rock’n’roll. Also his and Priscilla’s wedding outfits, and Lisa Maria’s toy box, a white quilted toy box with circus animals that is the exact same toy box my sisters and I had growing up in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s! I thought that was pretty cool.

Finally, the tour brought us to the Meditation Garden, where Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother are buried, along with the tiny grave of Elvis’s twin brother, who died at birth. Filled with flowers and mementos sent by fans from all over the world (including the strange framed photo of...some guy?), the garden has a fountain, flowers, and an eternal flame at the head of Elvis’s grave. Priscilla said that when she heard Elvis had died, her first thought was, “But how can the world possibly go on without Elvis Presley in it?”

Kitschy? Expensive? Sure, but I felt like it was worth the trip, and the long delay before hitting the road. I guess I would have to say that I now consider myself an Elvis fan. The kids never seemed bored, either, so I’m glad they got to see it. I hope they have a new appreciate for The King, too. Thank you. Thank you very much.

We got back on the road by 1:00 p.m. With such a late start, we decided we’d better move along quickly and not spend too much time at any more stops. We had a quick drive-through lunch at Popeye’s Chicken and Biscuits because, in the face of pleas for Wendy’s or Burger King, I decided we had to go somewhere that we couldn’t go in Iowa. Popeye’s is a southern institution, so that seemed appropriate. We had chicken po’boys—strips of fried chicken on hoagie buns with spicy coating and coleslaw. I had red beans and rice as a side. It was remarkably satisfying.

We drove and drove and quickly as we could, stopping occasionally for the usual reasons: gas, bathroom breaks. The interstate in Memphis looks to me like the street in front of someone’s house—small and unintimidating. I had envisioned Memphis is bigger. When we crossed into Mississippi, first we saw lots of swampland and the boys looked for alligators. Then the landscape changed—wide open fields and beautiful stands of pine with the sun shining into the middle, lighting up the forests from within. Angus kept remarking, “I like it here!” So did I. The day, sunny and clear, was perfect for driving and the views were understated but serene and beautiful. During one of our stops for gas, we got out of the car and it was…warm! I mean, really warm. Warm like the south, like summer. I couldn’t help throwing my arms out to worship the sun.

Jackson wasn’t very big but Mobile’s sparkling skyline just after sunset was impressive. So was the dramatically dipping underground tunnel we drove through on our way through town.

Then we had to find the beach. We didn’t have very specific instructions so after following where I thought we were supposed to go, and after lots of arguing with Ben about where we were supposed to go, and several calls to Ann, we finally found the condo: Emerald key, in Orange Beach. The boys leapt out of the car and Angus immediately began skateboarding around the parking lot. The boys grabbed a dolly and we brought all our suitcases upstairs, then went down to the beach to see the Gulf of Mexico in the dark. The waves, surprisingly large for the Gulf, crashed on the shore and the boys ran wildly around the beach and in and out of the surf, giddy to be out of the car and able to run free like that.
We’re here!

Spring Break Begins

2008-03-15T00:13:00.015-06:00

We start every vacation with a trip to the World's Largest Truckstop in Walcott,Iowa. And that applies to this trip, too, because it's...Spring Break!

And Emmett has influenza. This is not an ideal beginning to our spring break vacation to Orange Beach, Alabama. We got the influenza diagnosis the day before, via a nasal swab test. With our fingers crossed that we don’t all catch it, and the doctor’s approval that he could ride in the car as long as he got lots of rest and fluids, we piled into the car on Friday and pulled out of the driveway around 11:00 a.m. Our goal tonight: Memphis. But first, Walcott, Iowa, where the World's Largest Truckstop lives.

We know this place well, although we usually just eat and shop a little (Emmett got his coonskin cap here). For truckers, it has not only showers, TV lounges, restaurants, truck washes, and lots of retail, but a movie theater, a barber, and a dentist.

We got some lunch—the kids had Wendy’s and we settled for Taco Bell since there wasn’t time to eat in the “real” restaurant—and then continued on our way, sailing uneventfully over the Mississippi River and into Illinois. I had considered various routes, including the Great River Road, but finally decided the Interstates would be faster. In retrospect, I’m not sure they were.

By the time we reached the Spoon River Rest Stop in Illinois, we were ready to stop again so we wandered around the wooden bridges and I took the camera up a flight of steps built into a hill and found this wooden watchtower. I didn’t climb it but plan to climb it someday. Angus would have climbed it if he’d been there, but he was busy skateboarding along the sidewalks.

Ben gave Emmett another dose of children’s Motrin and we continued on towards St. Louis, but I somehow got off on the wrong road and we ended looping around and going through the city twice. But that was serendipitous because the second time through, we stopped across from the arch, crossed the street, and the kids ran around the grassy lawn and stared at the arch from beneath. It’s dizzying and spectacular up close—or from afar, for that matter, especially at sunset, the sun glinting on the metal.

On the way back across the road to our car, the kids and I leaned over the overpass to watch the cars on Interstate 55 whizzing by beneath us. Angus and Emmett made the universal trucker sign for “honk your horn” to several semis passing below, and two of them obliged with a satisfying beeeeeep as they roared under our feet. Angus said, “I love it when they do that!”

On the way up the hill, we passed a fire hydrant—bright red with a yellow painted cap. We looked at Emmett—dressed head to toe in a bright red sweatsuit. With his blonde hair, he looked just like the fire hydrant.
We drove a little farther and stopped at Bill Gianino’s for dinner. This little Italian spot in a strip mall south of the city met our need for local St. Louis-style Italian food. We started with some mediocre white bread, much improved with a drizzle of olive oil which stays on the table, and beverages (Sprite for kids, beer for us—when I asked if they had any microbrews, the waitress looked at me like, “Um, do you know where you are?” Right, it’s Anheuser-Busch country. I forgot. We ordered Heinekens.) We tried an appetizer of toasted ravioli, a St. Louis specialty we’d never had before. It’s basically deep-fat-fried ravioli filled with meat paste. Mild but satisfying, dipped in marinara. Everyone liked it except Emmett, who only tried it on the promise of dessert.

The chopped salads were huge and rich with cheese and oil. They were good but too big. Ben ordered veal piccata--lemony and rich. Angus ordered another appetizer portion of toasted ravioli, Emmett ordered a pepperoni pizza, and I ordered the special, seafood ravioli. I was a little disappointed that the seafood wasn't in the ravioli but in the sauce. The ravioli tasted kind of processed, but the sauce had creme, tomato, and a lot of chunky crab and gulf shrimp. I hardly had room for any of it, but the sauce was filled with cream and lots of chunky crab and shrimp. Emmett’s pizza was the classic St. Louis-style thin crust and he liked it but it looked pretty greasy. Ben’s side of penne with garlic cream sauce was under seasoned. I didn’t taste any garlic or salt.

We took pictures of all the food, but it wasn't photogenic food, so I'll spare you.

By this time, we realized we were way behind schedule, and way too full for dessert, so Emmett grudgingly accepted a rain check (he had been trying to decide between fried ice cream and triple chocolate cake, but even he had to admit he was really very full). All the stopping and misdirection had taken its toll, and our route was turning out to be a lot longer than I thought. Maybe we should have taken the highways after all, although we were never stuck in traffic on the interstate so I’m still not sure why it took so long.

We stopped twice more—once at a rest stop and once to fill up with more gas and coffee. Shortly after we entered Arkansas, we noticed grass...green grass!. It was starting to feel like spring.

We finally arrived in West Memphis, Arkansas, at around midnight. Exhausted, we checked into our two rooms, the kids kitty-corner from us, but as we were all unwinding, it started to rain, and then suddenly, big chunks of hail began pounding the parking lot and the cars. This was some big hail. It surprised us all. The kids, giddy with energy after a long day of sitting but also too tired to be awake, started laughing and shrieking and running in and out of the hail.

When the hail stopped and the kids didn’t, a woman opened her door and yelled, “Tell them to SHUT UP!” Like magic, the kids disappeared into their rooms, then called my phone. “Was she talking to us?” That’s all it took to settle them down. Before long, we all fell asleep, glad to know we were at least a little over half way there.

Tomorrow, we can’t possibly hit the road until we’ve had a look at Graceland.

Art, Rain, Jon Stewart, and the Hudson Cafeteria

2008-02-27T10:01:00.025-06:00

Us, out on the town, not thinking about dogs at all.

How did we get there?

Exhausted from three intense days of activity, we were finally able to sleep in. By 11:00 a.m., however, I started to panic--we were wasting the day! I got up and fussed around, whining about how Ben should get up right away. At last, he did. How could he sleep with my nagging?

We perused a few city magazines and decided to head back to Chelsea. I wanted to see art, but rather than pay a lot of money and feel compelled to see every corner of MOMA or the Met, Ben suggested the galleries. Free art. Exactly what we needed.

In one of the city guides, we found a list of a handful of "don't miss" galleries, so off we went, after a long deliberation in the doorway of the hotel about whether or not we should wear our coats. Ben's cigarette break earlier in the morning confirmed an unusually warm day outside--and rain. Did we want to lug around heavy hot coats that would soon get soaking wet? We decided we did not.

But as we came out onto the sidewalk, the rain was coming down hard. How would we wander romantically around Chelsea in this deluge? We turned around and went back to the Milford gift shop. We bought two tacky pink rain ponchos and a meager umbrella. And then we headed back out again, fearlessly, into the rain. We didn't look fashionable. And we matched! It was romantic in its own silly way. Because after all, it was the day before Valentine's Day!

We walked under a scaffold to the corner, then only had to cross one street, leaping over the puddles, to get to the subway. We travelled as close as we could to our target, then walked about six blocks to the area of concentrated galleries. I admit to getting the most benefit from the umbrella.

Wet and cold, our fingers stiffening, we walked quickly, and finally found the Paula Cooper Gallery--or, as we were soon to learn, one of the Paula Cooper galleries. I had read about an exhibition of the work of political artist Hans Haacke, but instead, we discovered an exhibition called Wood. We particularly liked this wooden block by Jackie Winsor called Fifty Fifty (1975), "a 40-inch cubic structure made of more than 1,500 wooden strips regularly spaced and nailed crosswise to each other in successive layers. The piece contains as much negative space (created by the space between each strip) as wood." (According to the Gallery's website.)

But the exhibit we sought was just across the street, so after examining the small spaces (and an interesting stairwell), we crossed the street to the other Paula Cooper gallery (we would pass a third on the way back to the hotel). This was the one we wanted. We enjoyed this couch with its amusing political embroidered pillow:

Then we walked into the space with Haacke's sculpture, Wide White Flow (recreated from his 1967 sculpture). This amazing yet simple construction--an experiment with matter and energy--is a giant white silk sheet (water-stained due to a leak in the roof that dripped down from the vaulted ceiling and bare rafters), anchored in four corners of the room, the sheet covered three fans on the far end of the room that send streams of air beneath the silk, causing it to undulate like ocean waves. Mesmerized, we stood and stared for many minutes, then took pictures and this video. (Press play, below, to see it.)

By the time we our had finished our enraptured "Wide White Flow" gazing, the rain had let up--Haacke was right, everything is always changing, nothing is static. So we wandered around Chelsea, past other galleries. We stopped here and there, peering in windows and admiring interesting exteriors. We went inside the Chelsea Art Gallery but didn't pay the admission. Instead, we warmed up and browsed the gift shop, then realized it was time to get over to The Daily Show. We had scored tickets a few months ago, and the instructions said to arrive at 3:30. And it was already 3:30! But we knew the doors didn't open until 5:15, so we figured we had plenty of time.

But by the time we arrived, at about 3:45, the line to get into the studio stretched around three blocks! We took our place at the end, sodden and only a little discouraged. After all, we had tickets. Surely we would make it inside. As Ben held our places, I walked back around to the front of the line where I had seen a deli. I got some cash and bought two cups of coffee to warm us up. Then I bought a pretzel and a hot dog at a vendor, smartly parked near the middle of the line. Ben and I stood there for an hour, slowly sipping and chewing and ruminating on whether we would really get to see Jon Stewart in person.

Then Ben noticed a couple of people handing out cards to everyone in line. When they got to me, they handed me a white card with a #1 on it. Ben got a #2. Numbers one and two? That sounded promising. Until a young man called out, "Who has the white card with the number one?" I raised my hand. He came over and to us, looking apologetic. "You're the first stand-by," he said. Everyone behind us groaned. "However many of our VIPs don't show up, that's how many stand-bys we'll let in," he continued. He looked at me. "When the line starts moving, you stop at the door. Don't come in until we tell you." I sighed. All right. What could we do? We should have arrived earlier.

But this story has a happy ending. Thirty long, cold minutes later, after some enthusiastic fluffing by a gregarious guy who stood outside getting us excited about the show and encouraging us to think of good questions for Jon, the line did start moving, and I did stop dutifully in front of the door. And we did get in. So did a handful of people behind us. They guided us through the studio, having explained that we were not allowed to take any pictures or ask Jon for an autograph.

They guided us to back-row, back-corner seats, but in the small studio, every seat was a good one. There it was, the Daily Show set we know so well, right there in front of us. Loud alternative rock music played as everyone filed in. Then a young girl told everyone they had exactly five minutes to use the bathroom. They would not be allowed to get up during the show, and if they didn't make it back within five minutes, they would not be allowed back into the studio. At least 40 people stood up--strangely, they were mostly men--and filed out, then back in.

Next, a comedian came out to warm up the crowd. He did his routine, bantering with the audience, and even made a crack about Iowa, and how Barack Obama must be doing very well if he won in Iowa. Ben woo-hooed and he asked us if we were from Iowa. Of course, we yelled "Yes!" He asked what color we were. "Um...white?" "See?" he laughed. "Everybody in Iowa is white." We didn't bother to disagree with him, even though we are from diverse and multi-cultural Iowa City.

Finally, Jon came out and people asked him a few questions. Does he have a celebrity crush? (He does think Stephen Colbert is pretty cute.) Who does he think will win Best Picture at the Academy Awards? (He pretended not to know he was hosting, then admitted he would pick No Country for Old Men. Turns out, he was right!) Then, the show started, and they announced that this was the very first show with the writers, newly back from the strike. The show, that had been going by the moniker A Daily Show, would now return to its original name, The Daily Show. Then, to make matters more exciting, they began with a bit about the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, and Uno winning! ("A decisive victory in the War on Terrier.") Jon delivered the line sardonically, then made a crack about how the writers had this much time off, and this is what he gets?

We yelled as loud as we could, hoping our voices would be audible on TV, and had a great time. At the end, they linked via video with Stephen Colbert, and Jon and Stephen joked around for a few minutes, talking to the audience about what they had for lunch. Then they filmed their usual segment. At the end, we watched them film the intro for their weekly international segment, that plays worldwide. Then we filed out. We walked past the stage, Ben was looking at Jon's desk, and the girl who had directed people to their seats handed a stack of blue papers to Ben. "Do you want these?" It was Jon Stewart's script! If you watch the show, you've seen him scribble all over the papers in front of him on the desk. That's what she handed us--complete with his doodles. Swirls and lines and random scribbles from Jon Stewart's pen.

A girl behind us asked, "Hey! How did you get that? Can I see? I always wanted to know what he was writing."

"She just gave it to us," I said. "She must have thought Ben was cute." We examined the papers together.

"I always suspected he wasn't really writing anything," she said.

Although they had told us early on in the experience that we weren't allowed to take any pictures or ask Jon for an autograph, a few people took some quick cell phone shots in the lobby while exiting. I snapped this one, on my phone, of a life-sized poster of Jon Stewart. It was as close to the real thing as I was going to get.

We left the studio, cursing ourselves that we hadn't worn our coats. Our clothes still damp, we shivered in the chilly night air, but walked briskly and bravely towards our next destination, the fashionable bar we've visited many times before, and its accompanying restaurant, where we've never yet eaten because we always arrive too late: Philippe Starck's fabulous Hudson Hotel and Hudson Cafeteria.

We always know we've arrived at the Hudson Hotel by the preternatural yellow glow. Walk inside and you are confronted with more of this strange glow, and an inviting (or not) glowing escalator.

We ascended, and headed straight to the restaurant, ordered drinks (Stoli Martini, Manhattan), then looked over the menu I've admired for five years now...without ever getting to order anything! We enjoyed our drinks and the beautiful, warm, dark atmosphere for nearly an hour before ordering. This wasn't due to indecision. I've known for five years what I would order. We wanted to savor an experience we knew would be expensive--and it was, after all, our early Valentine's Day.

At last, I ordered the Butternut Squash soup with wild mushrooms, the flatbread with tomato jam and tapanade, and the Macaroni and Cheese (the restaurant is known for its haute comfort food), and Ben ordered the skirt steak. The food was good, if not quite as over-the-top-good as I expected. The one exception: the flat bread tasted old and storebought and the spreads were nothing special, but the waiter removed it from our bill. The soup was probably the best part.

After dinner, we visited the interesting restrooms, then wandered out into the small narrow lobby. In the lobby at the Hudson Hotel, vines and trees grow everywhere and a magnificent chandelier sports holograms of lightbulbs. The bar itself glows like some kind of alien fairyland, with a lit-up floor and pulsing psychedelia, but somehow organic and woodsy at the same time. Ben especially likes the long log with chairbacks inserted into the wood.

But the cocktail waitress told Ben he couldn't leave his camera bag on the floor, and we didn't want to check it with coat check, so we went to The Library, the other, warmer, cozier bar. We hung out, chatted with other patrons, and finally decided we didn't need to buy any more $18 drinks.

We meandered home but couldn't resist stopping in to Thalia, one of our favorite bars. We've eaten here before--great oysters--but didn't need to eat this time, so we ordered drinks and enjoyed the atmosphere and our last night in Manhattan.

Ben likes to disappear into stairwells and bathrooms to take pictures, often of himself. It's weird and annoying because I sit there by myself for extended periods and odd people inevitably try to talk to me. But sometimes he gets some cool shots. Like in the bathroom at Thalia:

Finally, we headed back to the Milford, on foot. The rain had stopped but it was cold. I had shed my pink poncho but Ben kept his on..."to break the wind." It fluttered behind him like a billowy dress. Back at the hotel, we took a quick one-hour nap. Then we got up, packed, and hailed a taxi at 3:30 a.m., to catch our flight at 6:00 a.m. I was a little concerned--I thought we should have left earlier--but I needn't have worried. I had no idea we had just entered the cab from hell! This cab driver sped through New York City at a harrowing pace. Now, we've been in plenty of taxis. Fast taxis. But this was a taxi in a whole other class of taxis. This was a turbo-taxi. We sat in terrified silence, clinging to our arm-rests in the back seat. As we went practically airbourne over the bridge, Ben murmured, "Tell me when I should scream so I don't die a silent death."

Click on this photo if you want to get an idea of what our cab ride was like:

And yet, somehow, we lived. "That was very...um...fast," I said to the driver, who ignored me (but took the tip). The upside of that death-defying pace was plenty of time to mosey on through security, where we knew Ben would have to endure more high-end security treatment due to his expired I.D. On the plane at last (that jet airliner seemed rather pokey in comparison to the cab ride), we finally slept, all the way to Detroit, and all the way to Moline. We didn't even take any pictures.

Arriving, bleary-eyed, at around 9:00 a.m. in Moline, we found our car and drove home. And that, as they say, was that.