Three words:

AMERICAN NINJA WARRIOR.

First, I did not pick this show. Scotty picked it. When you share a house with a 3-year old boy (...and a 39-year old boy...), guys doing cool stunts trump rose ceremonies any day. And yes, while we have another TV, it's deliciously cozy to curl up on the couch with a freshly bathed toddler, well past his bedtime, that likes to snuggle into your armpit.

If you haven't seen the show, it's like perfect summer TV. Competitors attempt to complete a crazy-hard obstactle course, with challenges like "the salmon ladder" and "the spider wall." Unlike "Wipeout," ANW is for true athletes; most are free runners, acrobat, stunt men/women, or rock climbers. Some quit their jobs to train full-time for one shot at the course. Occasionally it pays off - or, like last night, the best competitor from last year fell during his run and didn't qualify for the finals, prompting Brian and I to mutter, "...sometimes a journey of a thousand miles ends very, very badly." (please see yesterday's entry for reference).

Anyways, regardless of the show's content, the best part is Scotty's reaction. He loves it. "Did you see the man on the skateboard fall down the ramp into the water? He fell on his booty!" He'll gleefully exclaim while jumping off the couch.

I think he just likes to say "booty."

Just like popsicles and sleeping in, ANW will likely be shelved when the school year starts.  But for now, I'm going to enjoy late summer nights with my nice-smelling little Bear. 

If you've noticed one thing about this blog, it's that during stressful times, I tend to get silly.

(Except about newborn jaundice. I just don't find anything funny about hyperbilirubin).

That aside, be forewarned: this blog is about to get hilarious.

Because I signed up for the Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon yesterday. Yup, the full marathon, not the half. All 26.2 scenic miles that takes a glorious route down the Strip at night (cool), through Fremont and downtown (kinda cool), under the 95 (huh?) and then onto MLK and Carey (wha??). But let's be honest here - whether running through an urban jungle or an actual jungle, the fact remains I committed to run twenty-six point two miles. In one day. Hell, in one evening.

Now that's perseverance.

This idea had been brewing for quite some time. I have three good halfs under my belt (and one coming up). Running a full marathon is definitely on the bucket list. A milestone birthday is coming up ("Closer to 40 than 30!" Brian likes to chirp gleefully at me) and I just ran a 5K (a day) a month ago. My legs are in good shape, my endurance is okay, and I seem to be in the right frame of mind. The Phoenix full in January 2014 sounded like the perfect race for me.

Until Reiner, the trainer at Boot Camp, told me in no uncertain terms, "Keem," (his accent is so great) "I have run 38 marathons in my life -" (thirty-eight marathons?!) " - and the worst, by far, are the races in January."

Huh. There goes that plan.

His rational was pretty sound; with amount you are running, it's nearly impossible to run consistently with all of the activities of the holidays. The schedule is just too cramped, too packed, and the stress level is too high. Food, obviously, is an issue. (You can't train on leg of lamb, Bourdeaux, and cresent cookies?)

So I scrapped Phoenix and set my sights on November. Two options: Santa Barbara on November 9 or Vegas (hometown! Woot!) on November 17. Santa Barbara meant running in the morning, through groves of lemon trees, down to the ocean among several thousand runners. Vegas was a Sunday night run, through some questionable Vegas landmarks, no lemon trees, with 50,000 of my closest running friends. If you know me, you know 1.) I hate crowds, 2.) I love lemon trees and the ocean and 3.) running in the morning is my favorite thing to do (aside from drinking coffee and going to boot camp).

So how did Vegas win? Mainly because I wanted Brian and Scotty to be there. With Brian's trial schedule in the fall, there's a 100% he'll be able to attend the race, versus only a better than average chance he could go to Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara, though only five hours away, seemed like too much of a headache. I'm slightly afraid of getting sick again (like in 2011) and would rather drive 10 minutes to sleep in my own bed than be a state away. Plus, I want Scotty to me get my medal...and to know Mom is kind of a bad ass. And then to likely watch Mom vomit on her shoes.

So, Vegas it is. Yaaaay.

I'm nervous, I'm excited. I can't believe it's only 14 weeks (111 days) away. For the girl who took 22 months to plan her wedding and lamented over the fact the human gestation period is nine short months (who can prepare for a baby in that tiny bit of time?!), 14 weeks seems like nothing more than a blip on the radar. But maybe I won't have time to over-think matters? Maybe the pain will be temporary?

But whatever you do, please do not congratulate me on anything just yet. All I've simply managed to do is click "CONFIRM" on the race's registration page. Let's save the toasting for late in the evening on November 17. Which, I'm sure, will make for a great story.

...and I like to make drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings.

It started last week with a rather primitive looking barricuda.

He then turned to the easel to create a jellyfish...

And this is how we spent Saturday night. Watching him draw angler fish, electric eels, barricuda, and of course, jelly fish, at his desk.

Unbeknownst to us, the money spent at the Monterey Bay Aquarium was more of an investment and something just triggeredin his little brain. 

For a child who refused to pick up his pencil most of last year, I see this as a very good sign. Pre-K is 34 days away (and Mommy is freaking out) so any extra effort on his part is greatly encouraged. I just hope his school is okay with aquatic life.

There you go. The Royal Baby is birth-weight-twins with the Bear.

Congrats Will and Kate! While I would have put money on a girl, there is nothing quite like a little boy. A little prince, indeed. Enjoy!

(and I hope you enjoy my complete lack of computer skills. I took a picture of a picture and then proceeded to edit the photo using actual paper. Yup, that's how we roll.) 

Kim was nice enough to give me another opportunity to join the blogging world so I could tell everyone about the first part the family trip (the part that really only involved me…), which was my drive up to Monterey and my round of golf at Pebble Beach. 

Before I get into that, I feel like I need to elaborate a little on a couple of the blog entries from the prior days.  First, while Kim was completing her 30th day of running 5K by crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, Scotty decided that we needed to celebrate Kim’s accomplishment by eating doughnuts.  Unfortunately, he forgot to mention that he was going to eat BOTH doughnuts while Dada watched.

Following on that theme, on our second day in Monterey, Scotty and I decided to go back to the aquarium while Mom went to the spa.  On our way there, Scotty noticed that there was a shop specializing in cinnamon rolls, so we stopped for a quick breakfast.  Once again, while I was filling my coffee, Scott took advantage and confiscated the entire roll for himself. 

Once we got to the aquarium, Scotty, now a veteran of the oceans, decided to regale the patrons with his knowledge of otters and jellyfish.  He actually stood by the windows and explained to the unsuspecting tourists that, a) sea nettles were bad because they sting people, b) moon jellies are nice, but only when they are little, c) he’s a little older now and can chew gum (really had nothing to do with anything related to sea life, but he told everyone anyway), d) baby Luna (the otter) found her mommy and then went back in the ocean and had her whole family and now he’s going to be a sea otter doctor, and e) he ate Dada’s cinnamon roll.  Despite being packed for the 4th of July, most of the people Scotty imparted his knowledge upon seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say (other than the gum and cinnamon roll stories).  We also got to see the sea horses and sea dragons on our second trip, and Scotty decided that both animals were nice. 

The morning concluded with us in the gift store purchasing: 1) a stuffed sea otter, 2) a sea otter Christmas decoration for the tree (to go along with the jellyfish ornament we purchased the day before), 3) a rubber puffer fish (complete with the spikes), and 4) a book about the aquarium with Luna on the cover.  Shortly thereafter, we went outside and found Kim, who was picked us up and got to know our new friends (the otters were a big hit).  So, that kind of fills in the blanks for a couple of the parts of the vacation that Kim was not around for.  Now, on to Pebble.

The funny part of my playing Pebble is that, for all of my hoping and planning, there was a good chance that it wasn’t going to happen.  I had to call at 7:00 a.m. on the Friday before to see if they could slot me in.  So, I woke up and called the course at about 7:05.  They had already filled up all of their “open” spots (i.e. spots not reserved for people who do what they want you to do and stay 2-3 nights at the Lodge) except 2.  But, they were able to slot me in at 1:30 on June 29, so I packed up the car and left.  600 miles doesn’t seem like that far, but that’s essentially like driving from Vegas to San Diego and back in one shot.  Plus, there’s no good way to get to northern California from Vegas.  Lots of 2-lane highways and zig-zagging.  Fortunately, the route goes through Bakersfield, and there is a Chick-fil-a in Bakersfield (now is also a good time to remind readers the Chick-fil-a completely cured whatever was bothering Scotty on the drive from Solvang to LA…just saying), so the drive was not that bad.                 

I got to Monterey late in the evening, found a relatively cheap place to stay (relative to anything else in Monterey), and then located where I needed to go the next day.  I could tell that the area was going to be incredible as soon as I got there, but it was late so I did not linger and went to the hotel and got a decent nights’ sleep.  The next morning, I got up early because I really wanted to get there early and explore the area.  Great call on my part.  I was able to drive around and see a lot of the area, parked the car in time for an early lunch on the balcony overlooking the 18th hole, and sat down for a sandwich and a great view of the 18th green.

From there, I hit the pro shop (was I really going to go to Pebble Beach and not get a shirt… and a hat… and a towel… and a shirt for Scotty…), hit the driving range (which was a little underwhelming given the rest of the course), and got ready to play. I met my 3 playing partners, a father, his son and his son-in-law, all very nice, and got ready to play.  The weather was absolutely perfect.  77 degrees, sunny, very little wind.  About as good as it gets up there.  I pulled out my driver and was ready for #1.

I got lucky right off the bat.  I hit my first tee shot off a tree and it dropped right into a clearing with a straight shot into the green.  I hit the green, made par, and went to #2.  A couple of perfect shots on #2, and I was just off the fringe for an eagle 3. Missed that, but made birdie and was under par after 2 holes.  Woo-hoo!  I’ve got his course pegged.  OK, maybe not.  The rest of the front 9 kind of owned me, but I was still having a great time.  But, the highlight by far was on #5, where Chris, the son-in-law in the group, hit an 8-iron from 135 yards directly into the hole.  I’ve seen a couple of holes-in-one before, but this was different.  The caddies pulled the flag, we all signed a certificate on the next hole, got a photo taken, they took his ball and after the round, he got a framed flag with his ball, a picture of us, a picture of the hole, the scorecard and the certificate.  Probably the coolest thing I’ve ever been a part of on the golf course.  Had I not been so excited about the photo, etc., I probably would have listened to the caddie tell me not to hit driver on #8 because I’ll hit it over the cliff into the water.  Yep, that hurt.  But, I made the turn in 46 which wasn’t terrible but was a little disappointing after par-birdie to start. 

    I got rolling again on the back side.  I hit some really great shots, and other than a complete mental-meltdown on #15 (“Don’t hit it in the front bunker.  Don’t hit it in the front bunker.”   And…I hit it in the front bunker and made 8), I had a good 9 going.  But, 15 hurt, and then I made bogey on 16 and 17 (after I attempted the “Watson chip,” because, that’s what you have to do on #17 at Pebble).  I stood on the 18th tee knowing I was 17 over for the round.  I really wanted to break 90, but 18 is tough.  Long par 5, and the view is, well, distracting.

So, I hit my driver, and it was the best drive of the day, just left of the trees in the fairway.  But, I was still a long way from home, so I hit another wood and caught that perfectly as well.  Now, I’ve got 85 yards to the pin and a sand-wedge in my hand.  Normally, not a hard shot, but this is 18 at Pebble.  The whole balcony (where I had eaten a few hours earlier) was watching, as were some random guests at the Lodge.  Plus, everyone else in my group was either, a) in the ocean, b) behind trees or in the thick rough, or c) stuck in one of the bunkers.  Nobody else in the group did better than 8.  But, I had enough to worry about, so I took a nice ¾ swing and absolutely hit it perfectly to about 9 feet. 

As I walked up to the green, one of the patrons was nice enough to tell me that nobody had made birdie for several groups (probably going on 2 hours), an so everyone was going to watch my putt.  Great.  Thanks.  So, everyone in my group finished and everyone stopped to watch my putt.  I knew how the putt would break because, a) the caddie gave me a good line, and b) I’ve played a lot of Tiger Woods Golf on the Playstation.  So, I stood over the putt, looked one last time, and hit it absolutely like I wanted to.  It rolled down the slope toward the hole, and I knew it had a lot of speed.  Unfortunately, a little too much, because it hit the hole and lipped out to the right.  It seemed like a hundred people on the balcony all took a deep breath at once, and then exhaled when the ball didn’t drop.  I tapped in for par, tipped my hat to all of the nice people who had stopped what they were doing for a moment to watch my putt, and then walked off with my 89.  After the round, I had dinner and cocktails with my new friends, and the next day, I picked up Kim and Scotty and we began our adventure in California.                

I’ve played better rounds of golf, but I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a round more than I enjoyed this one.  The birdie on #2 was fun, the hole-in-one by my playing partner on #5 was incredible, and round as a whole was almost surreal.  Every hole is like a postcard, and while I’ve played harder courses, I’ve never played a course that made me really think about every shot.  I can honestly say I enjoyed every one of the 89 strokes I played that day (except for maybe the 3 shots it took me to get out of the bunker on 15… that’s why I told myself not to hit it there!), and as a whole, the day was perfect.  I don’t use that word a lot, but it really fits here.  I had great expectations for the round and it turned out to be even better than I expected. 

                Anyway, sorry for the long blog.  I hope you enjoyed it and got a little taste of my day at Pebble (along with my solo adventures with Scotty in SF and Monterey).  See everyone next time!

At the start of summer, the trainers at boot camp introduced a new idea: up your fitness routine or diet by adding one new thing into your life for 30 days in a row. It didn't have to be hard, as the idea was to be consistent. You just needed to add something positive. Taking something away (like alcohol, sugar or bread) wasn't an option.

(whew)

It was fun hearing what other people chose; some decided to drink 100oz of water a day for 30 days. Others wrote a food diary and sent it to the trainer for review. A few people picked jumping rope (600-1000 jumps per day), while others did strength exercises like 100 push-ups, 100-situps, or a 100 bridges.

I had no idea what to pick, so I left it up to Kerry and Reinier. Knowing I was going to miss three full weeks of camp due to vacation had me seriously concerned about my progress over the last few months. I would hate to backtrack and lose some of the strength and endurance I had worked so hard for. I also wanted to pick something big but also something that I could easily do in all three states I would soon be visiting. Kerry suggested the 5K-a-day, and it seemed like the perfect fit.

So on June 2, 2013, armed with my arm band, hydration belt, and outdated playlist, I began this strange little odyssey. It started at 4:45am because Vegas summer was upon us and it was 90 degrees by 7 o'clock. I love to run, but running under the blazing sun in three-digit heat? No thanks. 

This early morning wake-up lasted for two weeks. My first challenge was resisting the urge to smash my alarm clock into a million tiny pieces every morning. Instead, barely conscious, I donned my running gear and headed to the park. As long as I started running by 5:30, I would make it to the 6am class on time. A few times I was late. A few times I considered running straight to my car and driving home and skipping boot camp. But each time, I thought, it's only for 30 days. Anyone can do anything for 30 days, right?

I missed an early morning run one day and had to do penance on the dreadmill. So, so boring. One morning, I fell while running. That shook me up. Here's a question: if a runner falls in the morning while no one is around, do they still make a sound? The answer is yes, and it sounds a little something like, "Ooooow! Crap! [Bleep!] I just fell. That hurt. Oh, there is no one here to talk to about this. [Bleeping bleep] what was I thinking? What's my pace? Oh, I'm doing good! Okay, I'm not bleeding. [Bleep!] Keep running!"

And in case you are curious, I tripped over a curb. I can't even claim it's a good, exciting injury. It was just me being half-asleep and clumsy.

I'm pretty sure I perfected the ability to sleep and run at the same time. Most mornings, by the time I got to boot camp, I had no memory of the run itself. I had to look at my Map-my-run app to make sure I really did it, and wasn't just dreaming it. Also, my legs adjusted after about three days of soreness. By the end of the 30 days, they felt strong, lean, and capable.

My first real transition happened when we flew to Indiana. I went from running in the early morning hours on smooth, softly-lined asphalt pavement to this:

Couple things:

1.) Vegas streets are very wide. Indiana streets are not. If a car comes, you need to jump in the underbrush. This is not fun.

2.) Those cold Indiana winters create lots of uneven pavement. Potholes, cracks, divots, etc. It's a minefield out there and I was determined to not sprain an ankle. Most days, it looked like I was Prancersizing, not running, due to my zig-zag route.

3.) I'm convinced my mom lives in one of the only hilly parts of Indiana. The whole state is flat as a pancake except the 7-mile radius around her house.

4.) My greatest threats while running: dogs, running around, not in, road kill, and not becoming road kill myself. Crazy UPS driver, I'm looking at you.

The upside of running in Indiana was that I didn't have to wake before the sunrise. The downside was the humidity. For the first three days, my poor little desert lungs felt like someone was pressing a wet washcloth over them. The constant rain didn't help, but at least it cooled things down.

Randomly, I entered a 5K that was being held at the Lake County Fairgrounds. It seemed like an easy way to get my mileage in and it's always more fun to run with other people. So early one Sunday, after pinning my number on and waving to my mom and Scotty, who cheered from the sidelines, I took off through the tree-lined trails. The little voice that chirped in my ear was telling me amazing things; my pace was incredibly fast (for me) and I wasn't feeling the least bit tired. My legs felt great. I stayed behind a woman who seemed like she knew what she was doing and just tried to keep up. In the last .5 miles, I kicked into high gear and really pushed myself over the finish line. I'm not sure who was more excited - my mom or myself - when I saw I had completed the course with an 8:18min/mile. Overall time: just over 27 minutes, making it my fastest 5K ever.

And the best part - I grinned like a fool when they called my name during the awards ceremony . Third place in my age group. My mom cheered and hollered like I had just won an Olympic medal. Aw yeah. Better watch out for those chubby stay-at-home-moms; we may seem like a benign bunch, but we are fleet of feet.

Before I knew it, it was time to head west. The crumbling roads were quickly replaced with...

Joy can be the only word used to describe running in San Fran. The whole place was just littered with happy runners, great trails, gorgeous piers, and oh yeah, that big bridge in the background. It was on a ferry ride around the Bay that I had the idea of running across the Golden Gate Bridge for my last and final run; with the next day being July 2, I was one day away from completing my challenge. I love a big finale.

Brian and Scotty dropped me off at the visitors' center and I bade them a nervous good-bye. This was safe, right? I am not a fan of heights, bridges, earthquakes, or really anything that is potentially unsafe. Choppy water, shark-infested waters, and sharp rocks are also on that list. Hell, I just don't want to get mowed down by a distracted motorist.

But the run was downright magical. Yes, I had to sidestep a few overzealous bikers, but considering the length of the bridge is exactly 1.7 miles, running there and back was a perfect ending. With my music blasting, I tried to soak up every last detail of the experience.  

My pace wasn't as fast as my Indiana 5K but the run was just perfect. And the best part was as I was coming off the bridge, glowing, high on endorphins and happiness, I ran directly into a cinnamon-sugared covered Bear who was running towards me. He and Brian had donuts in the visitors' center while I ran.

I took the obligatory boot camp photo and send it to Kerry immediately. My grin is so cheesy and my cheeks actually hurt from smiling. I was just so darn happy. This experience is definitely on my top-ten "Best Moments of My Life (So Far) List."

I don't know how they do it, but Kerry and Reinier just know how to pick the ideal challenge. My daily runs gave me a chance to reflect, meditate, exercise, and organize my life, which is just about the best way to spend every morning. I also got a chance to think a lot about my dad, since he was the reason I started running in the first place. With June an emotional minefield of anniversary dates (his passing, his birthday, and Father's Day), I think the running helped me cope and stay present-focused. Who knows? Maybe I'll do this every June.

Before I end this, I do want to issue one small warning: if you think running a 5K-a-day will make you skinny, it will not. Eating a clean diet makes you skinny. Kale and chicken and egg whites make you skinny. Running a 5K is great exercise and a lot of fun, but I managed to pack on a whooping 9 pounds over the course of my 3-week vacation. Mind you, I ran every day except two. (Six of the pounds came off easily, I'm still dealing with the other three). I resisted my mother's homemade cherry cobbler for about two days before giving in, and then discovered it was nothing but a gateway dessert for more delicious concoctions, such as pecan oatmeal cookies, s'mores, and a wicked little cookie simply called "the blondie." I have yet to meet a baked good I didn't like, particularly one that comes out of my mom's kitchen. But it was worth it.

                                                    ***************

I started my next 30-day challenge on July 11; 1,000 jump ropes, 100 sit-ups per day. This is actually easier than it sounds if you break up the exercises into sets of 250 and 25. It can also be done anytime of day (not 5:30am!), indoors or outdoors, and only takes about 15 minutes. I'm a big dork and like to time how quickly I can jump 250x. So far, my best time is 1:51mi. I hope I can beat that over the next few weeks.  If you think doing a 30-day challenge would be fun, let me know about it! We can cheer each other on.   

The Bear is at this amazing age where he is just soaking up information like a sponge. Every day, he says something or asks a question (or many, many questions) that just astound Brian and I. We want to capitalize on this very impressionable window before it closes, which is why on our way to Monterey from San Francisco, we decided to stop at Stanford University.

You know, just to look around.

Because I have a feeling the next 15 years are going to fly by.

As Brian stated on Facebook, Scott is applying for "early, early admission."

While Brian is still pushing for Duke, I wouldn't mind visiting Palo Alto frequently. (Eighteen-year old Future Scott just rolled his eyes and smacked himself on the forehead). Just down the road holds my future occupation: otter-brusher at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

See, this place is fantastic. It's tucked into the far corner on Cannery Row and is gigantic. While the otters are the main attraction, there's tons of other things to look at, too. They make the exhibits so fun and fresh, it's a joy to learn about our neighbors under the sea. For example, did you know kelp forests are incredibly important to the survival of sea otters? I did not, and now I can't help but look at kelp and think of cute little otters. Also, otters groom themselves for three to five hours a day; this helps their fur stay clean so it will keep them warm in the cold Bay waters. When an otter is in captivity, scientists actually have to comb the otters for hours to ensure a healthy coat. Hence my next career, as I whispered to Brian during the film. Therapist, schmerapist.

Scott was not too enthralled with the otter story. It followed Luna, a baby sea otter, before, during, and after her stay at the Aquarium. She was discovered on the beach after a big storm, having been separated from her mother. They took her in, brushed her (naturally), fed her, and brought in a surrogate otter to teach her how to hunt and open clams. Eventually, Luna was released back into the wild successfully. There was a lot of "awe-ing" during all of the otter footage, because let's face it - these little guys are just so darn cute. I was melting into a puddle of Kim.

Scott was having none of it. He sat quietly throughout the presentation, and once the lights came on, he immediately looked at me with giant, watery eyes. Big tears threatened to roll down his cheeks. "What's wrong?" I cried, reaching over to drag him into the safety of my lap. "What happened?"

He choked a little. "Did...did...did Luna -" big shaking breath - "find her...mommy?" And then he collapsed on my shoulder, sobbing.

Insert giant wail here.

Okay then. This is one of those moments in parenting when you are faced with a tough choice. How do I handle this? Did I just traumatize my child with the story of Luna the Sea Otter? What do I do now?

So I took the very big step and decided to lie point-blank to my child.

"Yes, Scotty. Luna found her mommy. They are very happy now."

It placated him for about three seconds. And then Brian and I faced a barrage of questions for the next hour. Where are they now? Was it a mean storm? Why did the storm do that? Was Luna sad? Did Luna miss her mommy? Did Luna's mommy miss her? Despite our (I hope) calming answers, he kept asking the same questions over and over again...

Before OtterGate '13, we were having a great time. Scott was consumed with jellyfish; what they eat, how they swim, if they sting. We went through the jellyfish exhibit twice and he still wanted more jellies. 

The map of the aquarium stated that private tours of the jellyfish were available, so we headed down to the information desk. With Scotty clutching his new purple jelly (a morning purchase at their gift shop), we were told that children must be at least eight years old to do the tour.

Scotty was crushed. Not Luna-Without-Her-Mom crushed, but pretty disappointed.

But - helpful Monterey Bay Aquarium volunteer to the rescue. She simply spoke quietly into her ear piece for a few minutes, and next thing we know, a woman carrying a tube of tiny jellies met us at the desk. She escorted us to the second floor for our own private jelly tour, free of charge. Is this customer service or what?

This lovely woman certainly earned her paycheck that day. She endured almost forty-five minutes of questioning from our little guy.

Brian and I also learned a great deal as well, though I was mostly focused on ensuring Scotty did not take a tiny moon jelly with him. I had to pry his little hand open, lest be in for a rude surprise in a few hours.

We sat in on the jellyfish presentation (appropriately called "No Heart, No Brain, No Problem!") and while it was a little clinical for my taste, it was a nice change of pace from the Luna-Lost-Mommy Saga of earlier. I think the presenter mistook the audience for a group of professors, not the mess of hot, tired parents happy to sit down for twenty-minutes with their squirmy, hot toddlers. He actually chastised one couple who was having a particularly tough time reigning in their two-year old daughter with a terse "The doors are open in the back. Please control your child."

Yikes. My hand was ready to grab Scotty's and drag him out of there if necessary.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Scotty listened almost too well. When the presenter asked if anyone in the audience had been stung by a jelly fish, Scotty's hand shot up. When I pulled it back down, he looked me and rolled his eyes. "Last week, Mom," he said in a voice far more mature than his age. Huh?

After learning how jelly fish eat (harpooning fish with poison in their tentacles), how they reproduce (surprisingly, not with expensive dinners and broken promises), and how they live, Scott still had more questions for the nice man after the lecture. Like a stodgy 45-year old intent on getting answers, he marched down to the podium immediately after the lecture and begin his litany of concerns.

I had a hard time keeping a straight face when this man began replaying various slides from the presentation.

Between sea horses and sea nettles, kelp forests and penguins, I think Scotty had a pretty fantastic day. Brian and I determined the best way to handle the Luna situation was systematic desensitization; since he had so many questions about it, why not let him see the film again? The story had a happy ending (though we tweaked it a bit. Sorry, eighteen-year old Scotty if you are reading this) and repeated exposure to the stimulus might help alleviate his fears. And so, Brian and Scott revisited the aquarium the next day while Mommy got a much-needed pedicure.

What was Scott's take on the story of Luna after his second viewing?

He told us he wants to be a sea otter doctor, since the man that saved Luna was a "good and nice man."

Does Stanford have that major? And more importantly, can Mom come and brush the otters?

The Great Family Road Trip of 2013 started officially on June 30 when Brian picked us up from the airport. Scott announced to anyone nearby that he was a "big boy," as I  had given him a piece of gum on the plane to help with ear congestion while I surveyed the airport's menu choices. I wasn't hungry - I was just shocked to see "grain and salad bars" (i.e. quinoa, barley, millet) offered next to plentiful piles of organic arugula. We'd just arrived from Midway, home of the deep-dish Chicago pizza and a McDonald's on every corner. This was airport food?

Imagine my surprise the next morning when I set off for my morning run, completely unsure where to go. I looked around for a bit, and then simply decided to follow the herd of fit, silent runners, brightly clad in their gear going by me. We ran out on a pier, up Fort Mason, through a park, all with the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

San Francisco, I love thee.

My enjoyment aside, we did the usual stuff over the next few days; walked Fisherman's Wharf, took a cable car, went to Union Square. I think it was a cable car - Scotty kept asking me the whole time if we were on a cable car or a trolley. I'm still not sure which is which.

However, he did get to pull the brake and ring the bell. He loved it.

The only snafu came around lunchtime. Based on Uncle Jay's suggestion, we hit Boudin's for their legendary seafood chowder and homemade bread bowls. Scotty ordered his in turtle form.

Brian and I loved the chowder - until I realized that chowder doesn't love me. Delicious and milk-based, my little dairy-intolerant system threw a fit. Despite the fact we had our ferry tickets in hand, it caused me to literally - literally, people, literally - miss the boat ride around the Bay. I literally missed the boat.

Damn chowder.

Thankfully, we were able to catch another one, and it was on the ferry I had the inspired idea to run across the Golden Gate Bridge. July 2 was Day 30 of my "5K-a-day-Challenge" and why not end it with a bang?

(more on that tomorrow)

After my run, we had to pack up and head out.

I'm pretty sure I left my heart in San Francisco.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday found us in glorious Monterey.

Our hotel, the Monterey Plaza Hotel and Spa, was phenomenal. It looked out directly on the water, and one night at dinner, we actually saw wild sea otters playing and swimming in the kelp forests. Ah-mazing.

There were some late night shenanigans, however.

Thankfully, Scott pulled it together long enough to hit the Monterey Bay Aquarium, just down the street from where we were staying. I cannot say enough good things about this place; there were so many helpful, friendly staff on hand that clearly wanted to be useful and answer any and all questions. They even provided free binoculars so guests could observe the wild seals.

(more about the Aquarium later this week)

From there, we hit the 17-mile drive, which Brian proceeded to inform me about every aspect of golfing known to man. He also took many pictures of the golf course, none that I will post here. I'm not trying to be mean, but I am just not a golfer. I like golf, it's pretty, I like grass...but that's about it. It would be like me trying to tell him about...I don't know...running shoes or something. His eyes would glaze over.

Mine kind of did. But at least I had pretty scenery to appreciate.

Every photo suddenly became a potential candidate for the 2013 Christmas card. I'm sad to announce, none made the cut.

We popped into Pebble Beach so Brian could regale us with more golf adventure from the previous week. (more about that on Friday). Scotty rewarded him by screaming (loudly) on the balcony over the 18th green, just as some golfers were making their final putts. I thought Brian's head was going to pop off.

Needless to say, we left quickly.

On Thursday, we started the long drive on the Pacific Coast Highway to Solvang, CA. A quick stop in Big Sur provided amazing views and the best baked goods we've ever had. Seriously - the cookies were so good, Brian and I actually went back and ordered more. A blond brownie, a cookies-and-cream sugar cookie, a macadamia nut creation, and a chocolate chunk confection of such beauty, we were rendered speechless. The coffee was amazing, too. And because it's California, they have non-dairy milks like soy and almond readily available, too.

::sigh::

California is my culinary soul mate (minus the chowder).

Scott's only car meltdown of the entire trip happened right outside of San Simean, by the elephant seals. I'm not sure what was going on with him, but he had slept the entire drive down the coast and woke up in a funk. It probably didn't help that he woke up just as we were looking at these giant seals. They are weird, loud, and kind of scary. Scotty howled loud enough to get some of the seals' attention. Worried that they might haul him off and claim him as their own, we left quickly.

During the next two hours, I was forced to entertain the child with talking sea otters, frogs, and dragons in an effort to slow the tears. The poor little guy just didn't want to be in his car seat any longer, and the only thing that made him happy was a very robust production from the front seat of "Masterpiece Froggy Theater," starring a very silly, slightly slap-happy, and still high-on-the-sugar-cookies Mom. I'm just glad Brian didn't drive off the road.

Solvang or bust, baby.

The perfect stop on our second-to-last-leg of our tour. This sleepy little mountain town is tucked into hills of Santa Barbara. There's literally nothing to do after 6pm, so we filled our days with biking, eating Danish pastries, and drinking large steins of beer. There are worse ways to kill a Friday.

Brian and I even got to do a wine tasting at our favorite winery outside of Los Olivos, Blackjack. The child stayed strangely quiet in the corner while we sipped. He certainly was getting the hang of this vacation thing.

On the way to LA from Solvang, we planned to spend the day on the water in Santa Barbara. Timing-wise, it worked out perfectly because Scotty could just sleep off his busy morning in the car and arrive at Team Abrahms' house refreshed and ready to go for an evening of fun.

Ah, the best laid plans.

Just as we were coming out of the mountains (and I'll admit, my apple turnover and coffee were not sitting well in my tummy either), Scotty announces he has to go potty. No problem; Brian pulls off the interstate and starts down a side road. No sooner did the words come out of him mouth than everything come out of his mouth - the cupcake I had foolishly allowed him to have for breakfast, some hot, stinky, partially digested apple juice...some remnants I cannot identify. It was disgusting. And all over the poor boy. Brian, who had yet to be present for a car-puking, looked stunned. I have several of these incidents under my belt and immediately grabbed the beach bucket on the seat next to him and instructed the boy to puke in the bucket. He chose to slap my hand away and throw up on my arm. Fail, fail, fail. Epic, stinky, fail.

Considering we had no rags with us, just dirty clothes, we toweled the kid off with a shirt he wore three days ago. When we asked some nice people at a women's gym to use their sink to rinse out the bucket, they kindly informed me to use the hose on the side of the building. And so, instead of enjoying a cool ocean breeze while sipping an Arnold Palmer, I found myself traipsing through the underbrush in some anonymous strip mall on the outskirts of town, rinsing vomit out of my clothing.

Vacation low-point.

We also completely forgot about Scott's need to use the potty in the chaos of CarPukeGate 2013. It hit me right as we merged back onto the highway.  Oh no - are we going to have to deal with bodily fluids from both ends?? The smell in this car is going to be unimaginable. Scared, I asked him if he still needed to go.

And in the immortal words of our three-year old - and I quote - "No, Mom. That thing that was in my butt? Well, I threw it up."

Vacation high-point.

Despite the car reeking of vomit, I hanging on by a thread, and Scotty still a nasty shade of green, what does our intrepid driver/husband/father decide the family needs?

Chik-fil-A. It was Saturday, after all.

Somehow, the magical properties of that chicken healed Scotty's tummy within the hour. He chowed on his nugs and apple juice with such vigor, I couldn't help but shake my finger at Brian. I was imagining what the nuggets would look like when they reappeared in this world.

Thankfully, they, along with the rest of our lunch, stayed put. And by the time we reached LA, Scotty was back to his old self. We were also able to pull out the entire car seat and wash it thoroughly, so we didn't have to breath in the fumes for our final drive home on Sunday.

I'd like to point out - you know you have a good friend when they willingly plunged their hand into a bucket of hot, soapy water that's holding your child's pukey clothes. Tiffany did just that for me, along with a skilled and thorough dis-assembly of the car seat. She moved quickly, like a bomb technician with an IED. Impressive and helpful.

By Sunday, it was clear it was time to head home. Our Santa Monica leg of the adventure - complete with biking to dinner, running into John Salley at dinner, and going to place that only serves portions of 475 calories or less (Oh California! I love you so much!), was winding down. Over brunch, we discussed the next great vacation - the first ever joint-family vacation between Team Abrahms and Team Boschee, commencing August '13 in San Diego. Babies, beach balls, and bulldogs. Oh wait, I think Teddy has to stay home. Twenty-four days and counting!

Scotty and Brian passed the time in the car by talking like the Swedish chef. I played Words with Friends and drained my phone battery. We slowly moved from cool breezes to hot winds and before we knew it, we were in Vegas.

With that, our road trip was over. It was a fantastic family time with lots of laughs, a few tears, and tons of memories. But it was good to be home, too.

My, my. These last six weeks have gone fast.

In my head, I've been blogging the whole time. On paper (computer?), it just hasn't translated yet. So big apologies for going dark for a whopping month and a half.

We've been busy, that's for sure. After adjusting to the end of the school year and having the Bear home with me (read: tiny adjustment), Scotty and I set sail our big Indiana adventure. But instead of flying home after two weeks, we flew to San Francisco instead and met Brian. He had driven up the Friday before. Over the course of the next week, we traveled from San Fran (which is my new favorite city, FYI) down the coast of California for our first ever family road trip. By Saturday, we found ourselves in LA and hanging out with Team Abrahms. The whole experience was scenic, silly, full of good food (and great wine!) and just a touch of vomit. I invented "Masterpiece Froggy Theater" in order to entertain the child and Brian and Scotty conversed like the Swedish Chef for a full hour to pass the time.

That's what happens when you travel with the young'uns. You do what you gotta to do.

In order to do the trip justice, I didn't want to rush a blog post. It took me a full week to recover, since the Bear does not enjoy walking up hills, walking with his backpack, and walking in general. We failed to bring a stroller with us (the kid is almost 4!) so I carried him. All of him. All 40 pounds of him from the twisty street in San Francisco, through the hills of Santa Barbara. My feet have yet to heal.

So, if you are still reading the blog and hanging with me, I appreciate it. There's a whole week of blogging ahead, and it breaks down as follows:

Tuesday: The Great Family Road Trip

Wednesday: The Monterey Bay Aquarium. So great, it deserves a post all     of its own.

Thursday: My "Run a 5K-a-day" Challenge, which culminated with a 5K    
    over the Golden Gate Bridge. Fan-freakin'-tastic, let me tell you.

Friday: Guest blogger! Brian shares what it was like to check an item off
    his bucket list by playing at Pebble Beach. 

So, there you have it. Tune in on whatever day sounds interesting, or check in all week. Thanks for staying with me through my brief summer hiatus, but I'm back and ready to write!