not that you asked...

Perspective

These are our good friends, Brian and Katie.



Brian and Katie are good people. They’ve been married for two years; they hold jobs as public school teachers; they have the most enormous Golden Retriever you’ve ever seen. They’re just Regular People.

Regular people who wear the same outfits every New Year’s Eve, it appears. (I know, I find them irresistibly charming and adorable, too.)

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 2006


NEW YEAR'S EVE, 2007


Brian and Katie have also been blessed with a charming and adorable daughter. She’s about to turn 16 months old and her name is Emily. And two weeks ago, while on vacation in another state, Brian and Katie found out that Emily had a cancerous tumor the size of a baseball growing at the base of her brain. A tumor that looked so menacing on the radiology report that when Emily’s doctor first saw it, he retreated into a back room and wept for the little girl he wasn’t certain he could help.

The situation deteriorated rapidly, and on Easter Sunday afternoon, it was determined that Emily’s tumor was bleeding into her brain and would most certainly pose a threat to her life if not treated immediately. Unfortunately, Emily had been violently ill the previous week, unable to keep food or milk down, and doctors decided to push the surgery to Monday morning to allow her an extra night to get some much needed rest and intravenous nourishment.

And then the doctors told Brian and Katie the unthinkable: that they should call their families and let them know that Emily might be too weak to survive the 12-hour surgery. If they wanted an opportunity to say goodbye, they needed to be in Savannah to see her before she was wheeled into the operating room the next morning.

Then, the miracle: Emily made it through the surgery without requiring additional medical intervention (she didn’t even require a blood transfusion) and is resting comfortably. Doctors were able to remove between 50 to 70 percent of the tumor. At the time I am writing this, pathology reports on the tumor still haven’t come back, but the oncologist who was in on the surgery is pretty confident that it will be one of three very aggressive forms of cancer. Emily might avoid more surgery, but she will most definitely face some intensive chemotherapy treatments, especially since her latest MRI shows that the cancer has spread to her spine.



Brian and Katie have decided that the best care for Emily is in Savannah, even though they call the suburbs of DC their home. Making that decision for them was not without its challenges. Brian had to take an unpaid leave of absence from his teaching job (Katie has been a stay-at-home mom to Emily since last summer). And they are looking at spending an unspecified amount of time – weeks, maybe months - in a strange city far away from friends and family and the comforts of home. But they are happy to do it if it gives Emily a better chance at being healthy and cancer-free.

The thing is, they can’t do it without going into a huge amount of debt. They’ve got a mortgage here in Virginia; they've got car payments. They’ve also had to secure an apartment in Savannah where they can live while Emily goes through chemo, and that apartment will have to be professionally cleaned and sterilized before Emily can live there. They have to buy a special hospital crib for her to sleep in. And in between all of that, they've got to eat and pay for utilities, gas, toiletries. And they’ve got no reliable income to speak of to do it all.

 

There’s going to be a donate button on this website for as long as Emily is in treatment. Please let me be clear: I am not asking you to donate if you don’t feel led to do so. But every little bit does something, every dollar gives this family an opportunity to stay together and support each other, alone in a strange city while they go through hell on earth fighting their daughter's cancer.

Those of you who read this website on a regular basis, you know I’ve never asked for anything like this before. But there is this part of me that wonders if maybe this little self-centered website is part of God’s plan for Emily; maybe He has given me the opportunity to correspond and communicate with so many people out there so that we can be part of something miraculous for this amazing little family that needs to be cared for. I can't just sit here and do nothing.

Emily needs your prayers and good wishes, too. If you would like to leave a message for her and her family, please do so in the comments section. They really need the encouragement and prayer support, even from complete and total strangers.

Thank you, everyone. Your kindness and generosity is appreciated beyond words. I will have more updates on Emily's status as we find out more.

* * * Update, 4-2-08 * * *
Emily is doing well, but has been leaking some spinal fluid from the location where her drain was located after her last surgery. She may need to have the drain replaced, and she may require a more permanent solution like a shunt. Doctors are still evaluating the situation and should know more soon, but until then, her chemo will have to be pushed back for a week or so. However, in the great news category, another brain scan done Monday morning showed that the tumor is no longer growing.

* * * Update, 4-10-08 * * *
For the latest news on Emily, please go here.

Also, for all who have asked: If you are uncomfortable  donating through Paypal or do not want to create a Paypal account, the Mandell family has set up a trust fund for Emily through Bank of America. This means that you can walk into any Bank of America location and make an anonymous donation into the account for Emily Mandell. Please don't hesitate to email with any questions or concerns! THANK YOU ALL!

Five Questions That I Really Need Answered

QUESTION ONE
Does anyone have any experience setting up a PayPal account for donations? The details I’m looking for here are on setup and fees. I can kind of figure it out when I am on the PayPal website, but I’m not sure how much I would owe PayPal for donations made by others from credit and debit cards. I realize there is an entire page dedicated to Fees, I JUST CAN’T READ IT. Not with all that mathy lingo they have on there. (Percentages? Transactions? USD? I am just not very good with a calculator, is all.) Also, just so you’re not suspicious, this question has absolutely nothing to do with the website you’re currently reading.

QUESTION TWO
Where is the best place for me to locate some free cardboard boxes? Will grocery stores give them to me if I ask? Please tell me there is a way to avoid BUYING BOXES, because I just can’t justify paying for something when I can probably find it somewhere else disguised as TRASH. These don’t have to be enormous refrigerator boxes; I’m packing up books and other things that we’ll be putting into storage. EVEN THOUGH I AM NOT PREGNANT.

QUESTION THREE
Was it poor form for me to let my dog out while the FiOS installationy people were on lunch break and allow him to kind of… well, pee directly into the mass-grave-sized hole they’d just finished digging? Oh, and then on top of the mound of dirt FROM the hole? Initially I felt bad about this but then I realized that they were all wearing gloves, so maybe this is the kind of thing they anticipate on the job site? Or maybe I am just the world’s biggest jerk.

QUESTION FOUR
Do you think it would be weird if I stopped into a self-storage facility and asked to tour some of the spaces? Dave insists that you don’t “shop” for a storage unit, you just GET ONE. But I’m really bad at visualizing how big 5x5 or 5x10 really is, which is why when I moved myself back here from Atlanta, I completely overestimated how much stuff I had and rented a moving truck that was so big that we had to LAY ALL MY STUFF DOWN so it wouldn’t slide everywhere during the trip. EVERYTHING. Like, my bookcases and my headboard and my FRAMED ART. Because I could have moved a four-bedroom house with that truck, and all I had was one sad little bedroom set and a kitchen table. I’m pretty sure I’ll do the same thing with a storage unit, which I think is what the self-storage people want you to do anyway. Except that this time, I refuse.

QUESTION FIVE
Is it really worse to eat the chocolate bunny in just one sitting? Because, really, then the chocolate bunny is gone and there’s no chance you’ll eat any more of it. Which can’t be all THAT MUCH different than stretching out the chocolate bunny for three or four days or even a week. Right? RIGHT? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who “accidentally” ate the whole thing already. Please.

BONUS QUESTION SIX
Did you want to see a picture of us at Easter? Well you have to. I was having a good hair day.

Hambone says...

"I did not like the bath."

 
Emily says, "How terribly fascinating. I, on the other hand, did not like that you released your anal glands all over my parents' couch, the passenger seat of the car and the upstairs hallway. I'm afraid I'm fresh out of sympathy."

Stephanie Something-or-other can BITE ME

Was anyone else watching the (completely lame) broadcast of the HGTV Dream Home winner last weekend? For those of you who have television viewing habits that don’t include All-HGTV-All-The-Time and didn’t see it, let me brief you on the situation: basically, they “surprised” the winner at her home, notifying her in person (a la Publishers Clearing House) that she was now the owner of a completely furnished $2.2 million dollar beach house in the Florida Keys.

Let me tell you, if someone tells me I’ve won TWENTY DOLLARS, I’m going to kiss them full on the mouth. Tell me I’ve won the HGTV Dream Home and all that gorgeous furniture and a brand-new car, even if it is American-made and against my husband’s Very Stringent Only Foreign Cars For Our Family Religion? I WILL BE RIPPING OFF MY CLOTHES AND RUNNING DOWN THE STREET SCREAMING. I will even light my HAIR on fire, if need be. Give me millions of dollars and I will let you know exactly how I feel about it.

You want to see someone who would REALLY ENJOY winning a prize like that? Next year, HGTV, PICK ME. Instead of the person who DID win, Stephanie Something-or-other, who stood stiffly in her living room, smiling and wiping a single, solitary tear from her eye. Eventually the host convinced her to introduce her husband and daughters to the camera (AND AMERICA, HELLO), but frankly, they didn’t seem to care much either.

I ASK YOU, where is the celebration? The excitement? The realization that YOU ARE A MILLIONAIRE? Stephanie looked more like she had just found out she was going to have to euthanize her cat and had to stay strong for the children. I was rather disappointed by this turn of events. I realize there are all different kinds of people in the world who are going to react to things in a million different ways, but I was kind of hoping someone would go all Extreme Home Makeover or something. Instead, I am angrier than usual that I am not sunning myself in front of a beach house in Florida that I OWN, even if I only own it for three days or something because I cannot afford the taxes to keep it.

Come to think of it, I can’t ever remember winning an actual contest or sweepstakes, unless you count third grade, which is when I won a poster contest. I drew a big lightbulb with a catchy slogan (I doubt it would be catchy nowadays, as it was about the library or something) and if my memory serves me correctly, I believe I won a purple Popple. A POPPLE. Surely you remember Popples? (Dude, were they really that ugly?)

I suppose if we’re getting technical (“we” meaning “me” as I am the sole author of this blog) I also was awarded a Senior Superlative my senior year of high school (can you guess which one?), and a scholarship from my church for being something along the lines of Most Excellent Senior, although I think the title was much more eloquent-sounding than that. Aaaaaaand… that’s the extent of my winnings, if you can even call them that.

Have you ever seen anything about those people who enter sweepstakes as a full-time job? Some of them actually make enough money to get by. I remember seeing something about it on a news program a few years ago, and laughing, maybe even laughing hard, but now I am kind of thinking, WHY ON EARTH NOT? I’ve got some spare time! I’ve got the ability to type my name into a few different fields and hit enter a couple of times a day! The first day of the rest of my sweepstakes-fueled life starts TODAY, PEOPLE!

Though I assure you, the winnings have got to be big before I will take my clothes off. I’m talking AT LEAST $250.

What about you? Have you ever won anything? Also, were you totally angry with Stephanie Something-or-other or was it JUST ME?

Satisfied and hunchy

Yesterday my complete Spring Wardrobe For The Upper Body arrived via UPS. I ended up ordering everything online last Thursday for a grand total of $82 (plus tax and shipping):



Everything’s all wrinkled because I tried all of it on about three seconds after the UPS guy wedged the package behind the screen door. And then I threw it all in a pile because it’s only 59 degrees and also very very windy and so I can’t wear any of it any time soon. (And I plan to order a few more of these online, the only place they're available, because the white one I ordered is SO CUTE and it appears they've added a multitude of colors that weren't available last week.)

I always thought I hated spending money on clothes. But while tearing crazily through my shipment of assorted cotton t-shirts I realized that statement isn’t true at all: It turns out that I don’t hate spending money on clothes that I am certain I will actually wear. I would say 60 percent of the merchandise I buy for myself over the course of a year ends up being returned because I never really loved it, so I talked myself out of it and felt guilty for spending money on something I suspected I wouldn’t wear on a regular basis. BUT GUESS WHAT I WILL HAPPILY WEAR ON A REGULAR BASIS?

T-shirts. Boring, comfortable, colorful t-shirts. Today there is no guilt, friends! I will be keeping every last Cambodian-made garment I ordered!

[Clothing Epiphany officially over; this blog will now return to it’s regularly scheduled programming which today will include some questions about your local fast-food franchise.]

So, I have to know: Are the people who work at your local Chick-fil-a falling ALL THE HECK over themselves trying to be The Nicest People Who Have Ever Served Fried Food Ever In The History of the WORLD?

For the most part, this is not necessarily a bad thing. I do not mind that someone is always there to refuse to let me push my own high chair to my table. I do not mind that someone has been hired to roam the dining room and refill people’s drinks so they don’t have to get up and do it themselves. I don’t mind that everything I do, from paying for a sandwich to requesting a toy for someone under the age of three, seems to be someone else’s genuine “pleasure.”

Sometimes, however, it’s rather unnecessary, like the cashier who agonizes nervously over exactly how much ice to put in your drink. (“Do you want a little ice? Or a lot of ice? Or, like, halfway full?”) I mean, on one hand, DUDE, just put ice in the cup, I’LL NEVER KNOW HOW MUCH BECAUSE I’LL NEVER CHECK, but on the other hand, awwwww! Here’s someone who cares DEEPLY about my ice to soda ratio and is doing his best to make all my fountain drink fantasies come to fruition.

We are usually at Chick-fil-a on Saturdays for lunch, since my grocery shopping day is Monday, which means we’ve been eating out of the same bag of deli lunch meat (though I’ve yet to get another featuring Jimmy Smits) for five straight days. And apparently so has every other family in our town, because the restaurant is always crowded, except that the fine people of Chick-fil-a put two and two together and now the place is absolutely busting at the seams on Saturday afternoon because the store manager hired a Balloon Lady to come in around 11:30 and make balloon animals/swords/flowers for the kids. FOR FREE. (Also: PURE GENIUS.)

This is in stark contrast to the one time in the last year that I’ve eaten at a McDonald’s, where, I kid you not, they only had two high chairs, and both were being used. So Asher ate his lunch while running laps around the table, waving a fistful of salty, greasy fries in each hand. Which is probably exactly the way he likes it, but me (and everyone eating within a 50-foot radius)… not so much.

What I wonder is, where exactly are they finding these employees? I suppose it’s possible they’ve just created an environment that people like to work in, because the only other option I can think of is that they force them all to be pleasant and wonderful by sequestering them during their off-hours in some crazy Chick-fil-a basement, where they force them to repeat “My pleasure!” while beating them with broomsticks.

Is it like this where you live? The niceness, the balloon lady, the fast-food restaurant as amusement park thing? Not the broomsticks, of course. The broomsticks thing, well, that’s just a hunch.

Other Things I Hate About Clothing and Shopping For It

Like I said before, I can’t shop with Asher. He tolerates the stroller for about .06 seconds or until the Goldfish run out, which is actually about the same amount of time. He whines and squirms and tries to squeeze himself out of the straps and I end up just running past racks of clothes, glancing at them and trying to make a mental note of what I might want to come back and try on when I’m alone. I might be able to sprint through two or three stores before we inevitably end up at the play area, which is JUST AS STRESSFUL, because HONEST TO GOD, why are parents letting their 12-year-olds run around in there? Take them home and let them rot their brains on video games already, before my toddler gets a concussion.

Stores just don’t make it easy for moms to shop: the aisles are narrow and the racks are bulging with merchandise, making it hard to maneuver even the smallest umbrella stroller through without catching the handles on clothing and the wheels on the metal supports. The dressing rooms are too small for both me and a stroller, especially if I’m flailing about trying to get a dress over my head, and I can’t take Asher OUT of the stroller and bring him in with me because most dressing room doors don’t go all the way to the floor, which is the perfect recipe for ESCAPE! MAKE HASTE TO THE TOY STORE THREE DOORS DOWN! Preferably while she’s got that dress all the way over her head and can’t see or stop you!

I also have a really hard time buying things when the weather doesn’t match what I’m buying. I hate that stores start putting out spring apparel as soon as Christmas is over. I feel pressured to buy it because if I wait until it goes on sale, my size might not be available, but I absolutely DETEST the idea of buying something that I can’t immediately wear. I don’t WANT to buy a tank top in January because it will be May before I can actually wear it without getting frostbitten armpits. I want to buy a sweater or a long-sleeved t-shirt or a cardigan but retail’s biggest joke is that there’s a blizzard raging outside and ALL WE HAVE ARE BIKINIS. Also no snow shovels, we sold out of those back in September. Sorry!

I think it’s even worse with kids’ clothes, especially for us first-time parents who have no earthly idea how fast or slow kids grow or any hand-me-downs from previous children lying around. All the spring and summer stuff is already out, and I couldn’t even begin to wager a guess at what size Asher will be when it comes time to wear it. It’s better this year than it was last year, since the only two sizes he could possibly wear this year are 18 months or 24 months. Last year at this time I was all: Six months? Nine months? Twelve to 18 months? I DON’T FRICKING KNOW, but if I wait too long, he’ll have to wear snowpants to the pool. Because that’s all I’ll be able to buy come July.

This year we never even bought snow boots (in hindsight it was a good thing, because it never snowed) but that was because I hesitated to buy them in August, not knowing what size Asher would be for the winter. August! Snow boots! INSANITY, I say. Why can't I buy snow boots WHEN I ACTUALLY NEED THEM?

Anything you want to add? Trust me, you’ll feel better if you do.

I just found out the sale is over on Thursday and the coupon is good for Friday. BOOOOOOO.

Despite my lofty aspirations for a closet filled with well-fitting, timeless, and versatile articles of clothing, I admit that come Friday, armed with a 15 percent off coupon and my mother to distract an increasingly rambunctious toddler, I will procure my entire spring and summer wardrobe at the Old Navy two-for-one sale. It will consist of t-shirts and tank tops in a size medium and it will cost me less than $65.

I love watching shows like What Not To Wear and I love reading fashion blogs and I even love shopping, but dude, the one thing you will never convince me of is that I need to wear a blazer and kitten heels to the grocery store to feel good about myself.

Eventually, later this spring, I will haul myself out to the outlet mall where I will enter the Gap and purchase two or three pairs of Favorite Fit khaki capris, which I will pair with my new assortment of colorful cotton staples for the remainder of the warm season. I have a couple of sundresses from Target and a denim skirt for semi-nicer occasions and I plan to invest in one nice pair of flat leather sandals for when flip flops won’t cut it.

As much as I would LOVE to be one of those women who can dress up and make it look effortless and comfortable, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN FOR ME. For starters, forget the fact that gas is $3.35 a gallon and bread has doubled in price in the last year (which: !!! and also: ANNOYING), did you know that a dress at Banana Republic or JCrew these days will run you upwards of $130? That’s more than a week’s worth of groceries, and YES, I know what a cranky old hag that makes me sound like, but these days my Scaled-Back, One-Steady-Reliable-Income Status just cannot justify these kinds of purchases.

Also not justified: the fact that I might feel a tad overdressed sliding down the slide at the park in my silk shift dress with delicate contrast stitching.

And here’s where you Fashionable People say something like, Emily! There are places where you can get attractive, fashionable clothing for much, MUCH less than $130 and Fashionable People, I know that, but you have to VISIT those places and TRY THINGS ON and I would rather poke myself in the eye with a plastic clothes hanger than take Asher to the mall ever again. I don’t have the time or patience to peruse aisle after aisle and store after store looking for something cute slash affordable slash my size while someone wails like a banshee from the stroller.

And anyway, if I finally found something, then I wouldn’t have anything to wear it WITH, and I’d have to start the whole process all over again. T-shirts and tank tops are SO EASY, and so cheap and maybe I don’t look like the most put together woman on the planet but I refuse to be ashamed! Also I still only own two bras that fit, but as it turns out, that is working out just fine for me.

I suppose I say all this because when I lost all that weight I thought I wanted to reinvent myself a little. I think part of me thought that a new body could inspire this new person, someone who wore jewelry and lip gloss and white t-shirts without even a hint of a yellowed armpit. Someone who bought cute flats to go with her tailored khakis and structured shirts and it turns out that I am just not that kind of person. I like to look nice, but I think for me, “nice” means “clean” more than anything else. I just don’t want to spend money on clothes that ultimately make me feel even a smidge uncomfortable or eat into our grocery budget. And when I say “uncomfortable,” I’m not saying they’re itchy or ill-fitting, I just mean they make me feel overdressed and self-conscious.

Anyway, I’m curious: Do you spend a lot of money on clothes?

(I forgot, as I was having this discussion with Dave the other night about How Much Clothes Cost These Days, I mentioned this article I read in Real Simple last month about people’s budgets. There was one girl who was profiled who allowed $700 a month for clothing purchases and I said to Dave, “Can you believe $700 for clothes every month?” And he said, “You’d spend that if you could,” and do you know what Internet? HE WAS RIGHT. But I’m pretty sure I’d spend it and then not wear anything except my trusty t-shirts.)

A whole week goes by, and all I've got is a malfunctioning Shop Vac story

Something you should probably ask your husband about is whether the Shop Vac’s filter has been replaced properly, even if you distinctly remember making seventeen separate trips to Sears in the last six months to do just that. Also, as a general rule, you should do this asking thing BEFORE you plug the Shop Vac in and start to use it. Because should the answer happen to be “no,” then you will have saved yourself a lot of things, among them time, frustration, boxes of Swiffer refills, and irreparable lung damage.

Because guess what happens when you use a Shop Vac without a filter to vacuum up all the debris in your fireplace? IT JUST SHOOTS OUT THE VENTS AND COATS YOUR HOUSE WITH AN INCH-THICK LAYER OF SOOT. Do not rely on the toddler to alert you of the situation because he will FAIL MISERABLY, even if the vents are blowing directly into his eyes. And the air will be so full of dust and particles that you will not be able to see three inches in front of your face, which means that when you run to open the door to ventilate your home and prevent you from dying of Terrible Sooty Lung Disease, you will knock the toddler standing four inches from your face flat onto the ground. THERE WILL BE CRYING. (Probably from both of you.)

Also you will not want to call your husband because you just KNOW he is going to tell you that the one and only thing the Shop Vac is not made to do is vacuum up fireplace soot, you dummy. (You are pretty sure he will probably be able to tell you what page of the instruction manual this information is located on.) But it is okay to call your husband! Because he is going to be nice about the whole situation, and he is going to tell you that if the filter is working properly it should not be doing that, and also that he is sorry that it happened to you.

He will not, however, drop whatever he is doing and come home to help you Swiffer up the mess while the toddler naps. You will be okay with this, because the mess reminds you that this whole situation is EMBARRASSING, and also because when he comes home from work later, he will be armed with a dozen pink miniature tulips. Trust me, you do NOT want to miss out on the flowers.

THE END.

Except that I wanted to show you the fireplace, because I got all excited to rip it apart and rebuild it after we made our pilgrimage to Lumber Liquidators on Sunday to pick out the new floors for our remodel. THE DREAM IS COMING TRUE, PEOPLE.

Here you go:



Keep in mind that this picture was taken AFTER I’d cleaned up the soot situation and torn down the old, awful, half-broken hanging screen that surrounded it. So it’s like two percent less ugly than it was before. And fifty percent cleaner. And I didn't even bother to fit the broken piece back in before I took it either.

The problem with the slate surround is that it’s too wide and too black and we have absolutely no idea how to clean it. And neither did anyone who lived here before us, because there are big drippy splotches all over it where various products were applied and left stains. Honestly, it’s just an eyesore, isn’t it? 1978 was an awful time to be a fireplace.

The plan going forward is to rip out the slate and replace it with some more modern tile (the resulting hearth will be approximately half the size of the current one, if that) and then to have my brother build a custom mantle surround that will go around the perimeter. Because if we can’t make this thing disappear altogether (ALTHOUGH I WOULD LIKE TO) at least we can make it look nice. Or, well, less atrocious.

And I know you aren’t going to believe me, but the hideous sofa covering is only in place when there is a risk of the dog tracking mud onto the couch. Which is kind of, like, all the time when your backyard is just a big wet expanse of earth without a blade of grass in sight.

THE END. AGAIN. (Also: THANKFULLY.)

Vacation all I ever wanted

Despite all my bold proclamations about Baby Number Two, I have to say that when I discovered early Saturday morning that I was emphatically un-pregnant, I was, uh, kind of… TOTALLY FINE WITH IT. Actually, Saturday morning I was decidedly Neutral about it. Not happy, necessarily, but definitely not disappointed, either. Today, however, I am kind of excited about it. I suppose some of you might presume that means that we’re not quite as ready as we thought we were, but I’ll have you know that if I had actually gotten pregnant last month, I would have been THRILLED about it. But since it turns out that I am not, and since we must make of that what we will, I’ll admit that I am kind of stoked about drinking beer and Diet Coke whenever I want to, and also about the fact that Dave and I will now have the opportunity to take a five-year anniversary trip in October.

I think there was a span of about five minutes between the moment I discovered that I was free to eat unpasteurized cheese and the moment I hopped on the computer and started immersing myself in travel research.

Dave and I used to travel a lot, back before the invention of our child. We usually decide on the location together (that means I hound him until he agrees that YES, OK, SANTA FE WILL BE DELIGHTFUL) and then I do all the planning and research and booking myself. Because I like to, and also because if I left those tasks to Dave, all we would know about Santa Fe when we got there was which bar has the best selection of draft beer. Which is important to know, yes, but so are things like WHERE WILL WE SLEEP?

P.S. When you leave it to me, we will sleep here:





I actually really like being in charge of preparations. I do admit that whenever we arrive at our destination, I tend to get really paranoid about whatever plans I’ve made because if they happen to totally suck, well, the burden sits directly atop my shoulders. But I haven’t screwed up yet, so there’s that.

I realize that this trip in October might be one of the only times we get away together while our kids are young and needy. Also, there is hardly a better excuse for a vacation than multiples-of-five anniversaries, and another one won’t come along for an entire five more years. Immediately we started thinking about revisiting Mexico, where we spent our two-week honeymoon. Dave is an avid diver and I am an avid tanner/fruity drink drinker/lobster eater/snorkeler and Mexico is cheap enough to let us enjoy everything we want without sending us to the poorhouse. We loved it the first time around, and though we’d do it differently this time, it would be awesome to go there.

(FYI: Some of you might remember that we had originally planned to go to Hawaii in September, but after the miscarriage we decided to spend most of Dave’s vacation time this year remodeling our kitchen. In other words, we’ll probably only be able to do four nights—five tops—somewhere, and that bumps Hawaii off the possibilities list altogether.)

Anyway, that got me thinking: does the adventurer in me want to squander this vacation somewhere I’ve ALREADY BEEN? Especially since our vacations for the next, what, one hundred years are going to have to be kid-friendly and/or involve Mickey Mouse?

Clearly there is PLENTY OF TIME TO DECIDE. But I like my options, and I like my research and I like to look forward to something, even if I have to look forward for seven entire months. So tell me: where would you spend a long weekend if you could? Bonus points if you include a link to an awesome hotel or activity that you could do while you were there, or a post you wrote about your trip. We’re limiting ourselves to North America so we don’t waste precious relaxation time on an airplane and we’re excluding Europe for that same reason and because current exchange rates mean we could afford like, one baguette to share between us for the entire trip.