CafeChatNoir

At first I felt mildly guilty for managing to parlay a trip to a bank into 3 nights in Sin City, but now, I’m feeling rather smart about the whole thing.  It’s always nice to have a little break from reality, and honestly, Vegas is the most unreal place I’ve ever been and perfect for a quick getaway. :-D

Bag is packed, traffic to the airport is clear, I’m on the list for an upgrade (I’ve flown United a *lot* in the past 9 months) and the only thing I can’t locate is a pair of non-scrip shades.  I have a sneaky feeling that I will be able to find a pair out there.

Penn & Teller*, wine tasting & art lecture, dinner at Picasso and poolside time with fruity drinks with umbrellas in them are *just* what the doctor ordered.

*Though I will admit some trepidation – my seat is excellent.  I am slightly concerned that my head might be cut off.

First, lest you think this is a “I hate TSA agents” rant – it is not.  Every TSA employee I encountered today was not only polite and professional, but genuinely cordial and friendly to the traveling public.  No TSA twits in my encounters today.

So, IAD to PHX today to go west and and prove some point about “Hey, I’m watching you!” to the care center looking after my grandmother’s health & well being.

I was hopping through security like a seasoned pro – no belt, no bra, no metal hair clips (braided my hair!) and glasses in bag.  I listened and double checked my pockets as the agent repeatedly told all to empty their pockets of ALL junk, including kleenexes.  (Head cold = pockets full of snotty kleenexes!)  I was totally ready for the metal detector as I waited to make sure my carryon bag & 2 bins went through the x-ray machine.*

Except there was no metal detector.  I got waved over to the backscanner machine.  Which actually didn’t bother me in the least other than it would be cutting into my brie & chablis time at the Red Carpet Club, but as long as it wouldn’t impact my making my flight, I really couldn’t give a damn.  (A better person would have raged against the machine.  I was more curious as to what the machine was in the first place.)

So, I go get backscattered (the thumbs on head thing is a touch odd) come out, tell the TSA lady (only 1/3 jokingly) that I feel tingly.  (I really did!)  She very kindly assures me it’s my imagination, I concur but allow how it’s all a bit weird.  We have a giggle and wait for the lady behind the curtain to deem me OK.  And wait…

I have no clue how long this backscatter review takes, but it seems to be uncomfortably long when you’re the one waiting for the results and I found myself in the midst of an awkward pause that would do Craig Ferguson proud.  Just as I asked if everything was OK, a squawk came over her radio and I swear, I saw her roll her eyes.  Which made me steel myself for the full pat-down.  But then she said, “Can you turn around so I can look at the back of your head and your hair?”

“OK, sure.”  Inside voice going, “Um, huh, what, well, OK?  WTF is in MY HAIR that I don’t know about??!?”  So, she smushed up the scrunchie on my ponytail/braid and said – and I shit you not – “She is seeing things that just aren’t there” as she also told me all was OK and fine and to have a nice flight.

Which tells me – scrunchies can apparently screw up backscanners.  I know every system for anything thing will have some measure of false positives.  But if a truly benign scrunchie causes issues?  That may indicate an acceptance of false positives that is a wee bit on the high side.

And here I thought going with the braid/scrunchie vs. twist w/metal hair clip was a better idea for going through security lines.  I suppose on the way home I’d be best served by just going full Cousin It with the hair everywhere.

But, they let me through and I am in PHX tonight and the TSA lady was super nice, reassuring, professional, polite and cordial – which is very nice when you’re just trying to get on a plane to see your grandmother and you’ve tried really hard NOT to be the idiot that wears a 2 pound watch through the metal detector.  Not even the slightest bit of weariness, bitchiness or any other -ness that might result in an exceptionally cranky person – especially one that has to deal with the traveling public on a daily basis.

So, well done to the TSA agents at Dulles International Airport for NOT making me feel like a criminal or terrorist.  You made it clear that my hair tie looked odd on the scan and you had to check that, but even then, sane heads prevailed and you decided a simple spot check of said hair tie would suffice.  No full body pat down even remotely warranted.

* I really don’t carry a bag & 2 bins worth of crap.  Laptop, 1 bin, shoes & purse, another bin.  Backpack that held 95% of that crap, on it’s own.  And every damn time I have one bag/bin left to go through when the conveyor belt STOPS.  And I won’t just leave my stuff until I see it actually moving to the machine.

And all that happy horseshit as my mother would say.  I’m trying to fight my way through this head-cold induced mental fog and look on the bright side for this trip to PHX.

– Unlike last August, this is a pre-planned trip, which is much better than the alternative.

– The weather will be sunny and in the 80s.

– It is a short trip with no holidays involved, which makes packing a matter of just tossing some wearable crap in a bag and that’s it.

– It is a short trip, period.  Less time for us to get on each others nerves.

– The hotel is wonderful and has an absolutely killer breakfast.

– There are several really good places to eat right next to the hotel.  (Kabuki and Yard House are on the must list.)

– If history is any indicator, the Detroit Red Wings will be staying at my hotel.

– No one expects me to sit around at the care center all day and watch my grandmother take naps.  (If she could juggle in her sleep or something, it might be different, but she can’t, so…)  This is a pleasant contrast to being expected to sit at her condo all day and watch her take naps.

– I will get the mail situation locked down once and for all via a UPS store, as USPS hasn’t exactly been up to the task with forwarding since everything went to hell in a handbasket.   (Mail to the care center is a no-go, and I still need her to have a local address, cause I am not going through the potential confusion of having tax documents print out thinking she lives in Virginia.)

If this weather holds, this will be the nicest weather we’ve had out here at Christmas in 4 years. It’s in the 60s and sunny and a far cry from the 30 degrees with 40 mile an hour winds that we left in DC yesterday. Flight was fine, but for a 5 hour flight it felt like it was about 12 hours. Hotel is great, and breakfast this morning hit the spot.

Popped over to the care center today to see Grandma – caught her after lunch and just before her afternoon snooze so we sat and chatted and watched some TV. Her room setup is perfect. The bed is on the one side, and then she’s got her two chairs and end table on one side, some of her pictures from home and such – it’s not “home” but it’s very cozy and nice and doesn’t feel like an institution. She’s kind of out in left field, and there is some occasional aphasia when she’s talking, but she sure as hell knew Donald was there when he said hello.

Overall she’s in good spirits, and frankly, the meds they’ve given her to keep her from being all wound up are working very well – she was in a perfectly pleasant mood. However, she did ask Donald, “I know I really shouldn’t be worrying about these things, but am I going to die here?” (I was out of the room and missed this gem.) Apparently it was said with about the level of curiosity and concern as if she’d asked, “Are we having pizza tonight?” Donald fielded it with something along the lines of “Since you don’t know when you’ll die, there’s no real way to know *where* you’ll die.” and she found that perfectly acceptable.

Went and got her Christmas goodies. (Yay for her finally just saying, “Oh, candy would be wonderful for Christmas!” and having people around who can read the labels and help her open them!) Hit the Dollar Tree for a gift bag and tissue paper – SO much better than the dollar stores back east. They have actual brand name items, rather than anti-freeze laden toothpaste called “Coldgate”. And a whole damn aisle of Willy Wonka candy. My brother & I may have gotten ourselves a few goodies. (As Donald said, “We’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in a diabetic coma before the week is up.”)

Thanks to the Arizona/Dallas game, the hotel restaurant will be open from 6AM to 10PM tomorrow – very nice considering that a) little if anything else will be open tomorrow, and Christmas Dinner at the care center is actually Christmas Lunch, and though I am sure it will be very good, I think we’ll probably be a touch hungry once the evening rolls around.

So, we’re off to a good start I think.

I’m sorry – I really am. If I could have prevented this, I would have. (And I tried.) But alas, I am going to be that jackass getting on the plane tomorrow night with a head cold.

I swear, if I was in a position to change the tickets and wait until I could breathe properly and hear out of both of my ears (my right ear is more than a tad muted at the moment) I would do it in a heartbeat.

However, it is Christmas, it’s my Grandmother, and they’re non-refundable tickets. Plus a cancellation fee for the hotel. So, I’m fairly well locked into the trip.

I have recently come to the conclusion that my body simply does not want me to fly anywhere. Christmas seems to be stress-related. Other times, such as Las Vegas, it seems to be “OMG, FUN!” wreaking the same level of havoc on my immune system. Regardless, I’m not sure I can remember a time when I traveled via flying metal tube that I didn’t feel like I was playing Go Fish with death during the process.

I will self-medicate as much as possible without putting myself in a coma, so you may not be able to immediately identify me on the plane as the idiot who traveled while feeling less than spectacular. However, if about 5 days from now you find yourself unable to breathe through your nose, or hear through one of your ears, and deciding every room you’re in is hot as hell – it’s probably my fault.

Seriously, I’m sorry, but I have to get on that damn plane.

Cool, but very weird. I told my brother it’s like a 6 year old went on an acid trip and made a city. (I’m still having problems wrapping my brain around the slot machines in the airport. Even if I did put in a dollar and get $1.50 back. Woot!)

And yes, I know, I should be out Vegasing and not sitting in my room, but I’m waiting for the engineer to come up and fix the safe before I finish getting cleaned up and head out for dinner. (Something got very lost in the translation when I called down to the front desk about the safe and they initially sent me up four feather pillows. I really don’t want to be the guest that needs special pillows.)

Got in last night, wandered around the hotel, goofed with the slots a bit and settled in at the bar. Made a new friend in Ivan the Terrible (who is actually Australian) and we talked and drank and played “spot the hooker” and made fun of a couple of tossers who were pissed that they weren’t getting free drinks while playing video poker. (I suspect that they were related to the idiot on my plane who wired 50K to Caesars and was annoyed that all they were doing was sending a car to the airport. Dude, you have to *play* the 50K, not just let it sit on deposit.) Today I chatted with the housekeeper for my room and discovered she has family in Woodbridge!

Time does not work here – and it’s not just the lack of clocks. Today, I got my tickets for the dinners and such, went by the business center to send something out, and got lunch. Somehow this took me 6 hours to accomplish. I cannot explain why. I have also repeatedly gotten lost in the hotel – this place is HUGE, and I know I have still not seen all of it. There are 18 places to eat just in this hotel. I did notice immediately that you can’t get anywhere without going through the casino – obviously intentional, and it works. If I am not stopping to play, I am stopping to watch other people play. (The hotel needs to be aware that I may break them – I am up $20. Yes, I am keeping track.)

The Bellagio is beautiful. They have this ceiling decoration that is all blown glass flowers – it is gorgeous. I’ll try to get a decent picture of it. (I keep forgetting to take pictures cause I’m just staring at everything like an idiot.) Went through their conservatory last night and the Orchid house – my grandmother would have flipped to see that.

I have also come to the conclusion that I don’t have enough cleavage or high heels for this town. :) I really would like to know the frequency of broken ankles around here.

Tonight, tomorrow and Sunday morning are all about the eating, so I may not see the outside of this place until Sunday afternoon.

I finally figured out why I was having so much trouble deciding on whether or not to go to Vegas.  When it comes to all things involving my grandmother, I feel like a total screw-up.  Now, being out of town the next time something went sideways, I’d feel like an even bigger screw-up.  No, I didn’t say it was rational.  But once I realized that was the problem, I decided to hell with it, if I’m gonna be a screw-up, might as well go all the way and be a screw-up in Sin City.  (I can envision the phone call now…  “Grandma fell again?  Sorry, just split Aces, I’ll have to get back to you in a bit.”)

So, event tickets, hotel & plane are booked.  Going down Thursday night and coming back Wednesday.  (I could have booked the red-eye back Tuesday night, but Wednesday would be shot anyway, so might as well spend another night in a cushy hotel room!)  The eating & drinking extravangaza runs from Friday night to Sunday afternoon.  Tuesday I have to deal with Wells Fargo, but in theory that shouldn’t take more than an hour.  So, I’ve got Friday, Sunday afternoon, all day Monday and most of the day Tuesday to bang about.  As it is, there seems to be more than enough in the Bellagio itself to keep me occupied for a good while – botanical gardens, art museum, window shopping and spa.  I also have heard Ceasar’s is great for window shopping for things you can’t possibly afford.

Now I need y’all to tell me everything I need to know about Vegas, cause I’m fairly certain everything I’ve seen on TV is patently false, other than it is in the desert and has a lot of neon lights.

So far all I know is to split Aces or 8s, and stick on 17.

I’m thinking there is likely a bit more I should be aware of.

And yet, my head cold rages on.

We made it.  Grandma is still grandma, if flakier and more frail.  Nothing unexpected – she’ll be 87 in a week and has never had a healthy habit in her life.  The fact that she is still alive is amazing, though I would have to say that one good fall with a broken bone, and she’d be toast.  In talking w/Sharyn it’s agreed all around that the “caregiving crew that can’t be called caregivers” needs to be expanded and we’ll be working on that.  The biggest problem is when she is alone, no one gets any peace.  Whenever something pops into her head, she goes to the phone – it’s a pure reflex at this point for her, not a conscious decision, which results in her making everyone else crazy.

This is probably also the last Christmas she’ll have any clue who we are.  Kinda sad, but again, hardly unexpected.  I’d say it could be her last Christmas here on earth, but we’ve been saying that for the last 10 years.

The calendar says it’s Christmas Eve, but you couldn’t prove it by me – the biggest downer of being here at Christmas is that it has never, ever felt anything like Christmas.  Everything that makes Christmas what it is to me is back home, not here.  So, that part fairly well sucks, but it is what it is.  (And though I have fears to the contrary, my grandmother will not live forever and I’ll have many years of finally doing Christmas my way.  Just not this year.)

On the upside, we have made a few brilliant decisions this trip.  The first being the hotel.  (Mad props to my brother for coming up with this idea in the first place.)  We’re at the Renaissance Grand over in Glendale, and it’s really nice.  It’s right next to the town center which has a bucketload of restaurants, the hockey arena and a movie theater – and people under the age of 60.  And given that it doesn’t seem that Phoenix is a big Christmas destination, we got a really good deal on the room to boot.

The second brilliant decision was in making the travel days separate from any interaction with my grandmother.  (This comes from my last trip out here.)  It may sound harsh, but I can deal with US Airways, or my grandmother, but not both in the same day.  Just isn’t going to work.

Last but not least – deciding to fly out of Dulles instead of National.  Amazing how when you decide you will take flights that are convienent for YOU and not anyone else, things are a lot easier.  I hadn’t flown out of Dulles in 10 years and I was blown away at how much better it is than National.  Between having many hours in the morning to get the pets to the kennel (*sob*) and not having to take a death cab to the metro and fight with that ridiculousness (and I’m not even sure our metro station was open) and deal with the service impaired folks at National – it was actually a stress free travel day.

I’m still kicking myself a bit for the length of this trip – we could probably leave day after tomorrow and it wouldn’t make a difference at all in my grandmother’s mind.  But her shrieks of “you won’t be here long enough to get everything done!” from years past kept ringing in my ears as I made the reservations…  Ah well, lessons learned.  (I think I’ll have it all figured out about a week after she dies.  If she ever dies.)

I was initially concerned about this snowstorm and it’s ripple effects on travel on Tuesday – US Airways routinely overbooks their flights in the first place and I can only assume multiple flight cancellations would result in even more overbookings as folks try to reschedule, etc, etc, etc.

And then I talked to my grandmother earlier this evening and realized, so what?  Now, lest you think I am making fun of my grandmother, I am not.  However, I am laughing at the situation, because if I can’t laugh about it, I’ll have to check myself into the insane asylum.

First, she’s not real keen on this visit to begin with.  (This after two years of her complaining that we didn’t visit for long enough or often enough.  This is my 5th trip there in 24 months.)   I know for a fact that she knows she’s getting worse and doesn’t want us to see it, because I want to take her home away from her and stuff her in a nursing home.  (Her words.  Thank you Sharyn for convincing her that was NOT the end game of the Power of Attorney.)  I also just don’t know how much visiting she’s up for – bless her, she is ancient and I know this year will be more tiring for her than others.  (We may find ourselves with more time to explore Phoenix than we expected.)  So, if our flight is canceled or we’re bumped and it takes another day off the trip, I think she’d be letting out a large sigh of relief.

While she isn’t living her life in 1958 or anything, time distortion is a real issue for her.  When every day is the same, and you don’t have anything going on that distinguishes weekdays from weekends and your brain is essentially turning to cement, the days do tend to run together.  That being said, we could probably be there for 3 days in the middle of February, tell her it’s Christmas and she’d think we’d been there a month, so once again, I’m not so worried if we are delayed getting out there.

So, bring on the snow.

And I have yet to see the sun.

Probably a good thing that I did not have any plans to go golfing this week.

In general, I don’t consider Sun City to be a particularly spectacular place, but it does have a couple things going for it.

– Slanted parking spots in most shopping centers.  Much easier to park.

– Toasted Corn Doritos.  (Can’t find these within 50 miles of the DC metro area.  And I’m not sharing.)

– You can buy liquor in the CVS store.  (It still seems weird to me, but I’ll take it.)

Up at the crack of dawn for 8 days of sleep deprivation, malnutrition and emotional waterboarding. Also knows as Christmas in Phoenix with my grandmother.

Oh the joy of travel.

I was convinced that we wouldn’t even survive the cab ride to the airport. Despite SatNav, our driver couldn’t find his way out of the neighborhood to get to the metro. Once we got him on the right route, he developed a lead food and penchant for random lane changing. If that didn’t kill us, I was quite certain we’d die of asphyxiation via cologne.

By some miracle we made ti the airport intact. Got checked in and nicked for $30 to check bags. Got frisked by security for not wearing a skin-tight shirt and then yelled at for attempting to fetch my carry on from the wrong side of the conveyor belt.

On to the gate we were are greeted with the announcement that the flight is oversold. Wonderful job of counting, US Airways!! They needed 4 people to volunteer for another flight. Oh how I wanted to jump up and scream, “Me! Me!!! OH PICK ME!!!!” However, knowing this would not go over well with my grandmother, I stayed silent.

Got on the plane with one infant, two crying toddlers and a barking dog.  (The infant, toddlers & dog are not mine.)  I comment to my seatmate that perhaps this is karma for not volunteering to take another flight.  We take off 30 minutes late because we are a “weight restricted” flight and they had to double check the weight of the plane.  Not even sure what makes a flight “weight restricted”, but it’s nice to know they want to make sure we have enough fuel.

I manage to somehow miss the first call for drinks – the cart was there one second and then 5 rows back – I only blinked.  Oh well – $7 for a Bloody Mary is highway robbery anyway.  I’ve already stolen a pillow that they’ll likely try and charge me $10 for anyway.

I doze back off and wake up again about 2/3 of the way through the flight to discover that my knee has seized up and it hurts like hell.  Two of the three kids are crying and the dog is barking again.  The flight attendants are taking drink orders again and suddenly $7 for a Bloody Mary doesn’t seem so bad.  I dull the knee pain a bit with some Mr & Mrs T’s and Finlandia.  The dog stops barking and the kids settle down and I doze off for the rest of the flight.

Off the plane, get the bags and gimp my way to tthe car rental counter.  Everyone is so cheery and I am decidedly not.  My knee hurts and it’s raining and I’m staring down the barrel of 8 days in God’s Waiting Room Sun City.  I try to be nice, but I don’t think I succeeded.

Finally get to the condo and discover that the compact car isn’t quite as compact as I thought and it barely fits in the garage.  My grandmother is still essentially living in a cold water flat as she refuses to leave the hot water heater on, because who needs hot water on demand anyway?  She also still insists that it only takes 20 minutes to get hot water, which is far short of how long it actually takes.

I pre-emptively vetoed going out for dinner.  My knee still hurts and I have no desire to go head to head with blue haired ladies in Lincoln Town Cars in the rain.  We order in pizza and wings.  I veto potential trips to the bank, as they do not need to occur.  I veto washing the dishes with cold water.  (The hot water heater is still in the ON position as I type.)  I suggest on 3 separate occasions that she should see a doctor and am soundly ignored.  Despite the desert supposedly having a great climate, I cannot breathe because I am allergic to something in this condo.  (I wonder if I should make an appointment now for the sinus infection I’ll have when I get home.)

Oh well.  At least we won’t have to go to the bank multiple times for no reason.

I’m in hate mode at the moment.

Still have to go to Staples, Petco, the cigar shop, and Kohl’s. ATM machine. Ticket and rental car printouts and directions from the airport to the house. Have to get the animals to the kennel. Packing. Figure out what laundry I missed.

This is why Valium should be available over the counter.

Finally got the photos done from Philly!

Reading Terminal Market

Independence Hall

Flower Show

Got back in this afternoon – tired as hell, but what a great little trip. I have SO many damn pictures to go through and right now I can barely see straight, so it will have to wait. This is the view from the top floor of the hotel where my room was:

It’s snowing in Philly today, and no one is freaked out about it. Cars are not spinning out, cab fares have not been doubled, school is in session and yes, it’s definitely different than DC.

Well, what I’ve seen of Philly so far is pretty cool. Granted, I may just be in the fun part of town, but it definitely has a different vibe from DC. (Yes, I have the laptop. Given that I filled 2 of my 3 memory cards on my camera today, bringing it along seems to have been a good idea.)

Amtrak was a great way to get up here – nice to sit and just watch the world go by out the window on the way instead of madly searching for the right exit.

First stop off the train was a shoe shine. My timberlands were looking a little on the sad side. $7 very well spent for some seriously shiny boots.

Dropped off the bags at the hotel and headed out.

First stop – Reading Terminal Market for a quick snack, since it’s right in between the hotel and the convention center. Oh. My. God. I’d been told this was a place I could get food, but I was NOT prepared for this. The place is huge, has EVERYTHING you could possibly want to eat. And not just prepared stuff, fresh meats, seafood, produce. Seriously, whatever you’re in the mood for, they have it. To the point where it is actually somewhat overwhelming. Me? Being the exotic one, I ended up with coffee & a croissant. Hey, it was still early. It’s highly likely I’ll be back over there for breakfast or lunch or something before I leave. Also, seeing the occasional sign in German in the place just warmed my heart.

Then off to the flower show. Wow. I always knew I was a suck gardener, but this really cemented it. I’ll be getting up the rest of the pics later this week – I really think that is the best way to explain the whole thing. You really don’t have to be a garden freak for this – it’s just tons and tons of really pretty flowers and plants and just a plain nice place to wander around. It’s mainly a competition – take your 4H botany competition at the county fair, put it on enough steriods to make the Balco case look like they were dealing tic-tacs, and you have the Philly Flower Show. Over 100 classes of entries, from regular flowers and plants (ie, small irises, hanging plants, etc.) to artistic entries. The artistic entries included miniature arrangements, jewelry made from plants & flowers, landscaping designs for things such as arbors/entryways/whole yards. The artistic entries had to stay in the theme of “Legends of Ireland” and there was just some really lovely work done by these folks. The local nurseries/landscapers/floral designers had exhibits as well, also keeping in the theme, even if there were a couple that were slightly more reminiscent of a Lucky Charms advert. Like I said, I think the pictures can do it more justice than I can.

The flower show also had some culinary demos as well. Caught two of those, and they were pretty good. I expected they’d somehow tie it back into the flower show with something along the lines of cooking w/edible flowers or something like that, but it was just “normal” stuff, but still cool.

First one was a chef from Acme Markets, which I gather is the local version of Wegman’s from the way they talked about it. I felt a little bad for him. First, the “host chef” who is introducing all the chefs doing demos this week made a really big deal abut how Acme donated the cookware and it was SO great even their chef was using it. I could see him cringe a tiny bit over this. It’s non-stick stuff, and I know how I feel about non-stick, and how a certain other chef I know feels about it, and from the look on this guys face it appeared he was trying hard to remind himself “they pay me to do this.” He also had to talk up the store through it, and you could just tell he’d really rather just be talking about the food. He did a pan seared ribeye and mashed sweet potatoes with a blood orange compound butter. He had this kickass ricer/masher he said he’d just gotten from Poland. I tried to get a closer look right after the demo, but the kids from the local culinary school that were recruited for help and cleanup were overly efficient and it had already been dumped in a bucket of suds in the back. Bummer. At one point he also said the words, “I know Rachel Ray says [do it this way], but you don’t want to do it that way – trust me on this.” I’m not sure he made it out alive after that.

Second one was the chefs from LaCroix – apparently a rather high end place here in town. Couldn’t help but notice they were sticking with their stainless steel cookware. They did a sautéed fish with an egg sauce with a pineapple garnish. I’ll have to look it up – it really looked great. The lady next to me was just horrified at the fact that they charge $52 for Sunday brunch. Hey, someone must be paying and frankly, it may very well be worth it. One of the chefs said they had something along the lines of 200 items or some equally insane number.

After going through all the exhibits and demos, it was snack time again. I swear, when I am on vacation I eat constantly. Popped into the Independence Brew Pub, right next to the hotel. Went in based on some good sounding things on the appetizer menu, only to find out half of them aren’t on the “bar menu”. (WTF, it’s all in the same room.) So I ended up with a chicken quesadilla that while it was edible, was truly nothing I’d want coming out of my kitchen. However, the Oatmeal Stout (brewed there) kicks ass.

So, if you ‘re in Philly next to the Reading Terminal Market, hit Independence Brew Pub for the beer, NOT the food. Sure, you probably shouldn’t go to a brew pub for the food in the first place, but really, it’s pub fare, it really shouldn’t be something you can screw up.

The hotel is great – Marriott does a good job of keeping my business. Dinner at Cuba Libre was AWESOME, and will get it’s own write up at some point, most likely after I get some sleep.

A Charlie Brown Christmas, as performed by the cast of Scrubs. Absolutely brilliant. 10:20 and worth every second – thanks to autiger23 for the link.

In other news, I have actually been READY for my Philly trip – as in everything actually packed and ready to go (less a few minor “oh, I need” items) since around 8PM this evening – this is nothing short of a miracle for me. Normally, I’d still be doing laundry at this point and freaking out. Here’s to making a concerted effort to get my sorry ass more organized and it actually paying off!

I am really looking forward to this trip. The main reason is the Philly Flower Show, which my Mom & I had said on more than one occasion that we needed to do, but unfortunately, hadn’t managed to do. Well, no time like the present. Additionally, I’ll be hitting the King Tut exhibit (ticket in hand!) and I have reservations at a couple very promising places for dinner. The Cuba Libre Restaurant and Rum Bar and
Moromoto. Yes, that Morimoto. And I’ll be doing my damndest to hit Monk’s Cafe to boot. This trip has quickly turned into the “Happy Birthday to Me” eating and drinking fest.

Hopefully many really good pics will follow in the next couple days.

Well, amazingly enough the pancakes came out pretty darn well despite the fact that I literally cannot remember the last time I made them. (Thank god for bisquick and buttermilk.) However, I do need to locate a better pan for it next time around, cause flipping them was a little on the sketchy side and there were a few that ended up in the trash. The paprika bacon was wonderful, no surprise there.

I do believe I’ll have a Mardi Gras Guinness before the night is over, if nothing else to drown my sorrows if the Caps don’t win this evening. (3-2 Montreal, 10:15 left in the 2nd period.)

By sheer luck I stumbled on a link for the Cuba Libre Restaurant & Rum Bar via del.icio.us, clicked on it because it sounded intriguing and discovered it’s in Philly, less than a mile from where I’ll be staying next month. Oh hells yes, I’ve made a reservation for when I’m up there. Really looking forward to this trip.  Which also reminds me that I have GOT to figure out where on earth I put my camera.

Thanks to Celia for letting me know that the area I was looking at in Philly is a pretty decent part of town AND giving me a restaurant recommendation to boot. Got my tickets for the museum exhibit, the flower show folks say there is no problems with tickets at the door, and hotel is booked. (And I am pretty sure center city hotels are making ALL their money for the year off this one week of the flower show.)

I’m thinking I may just take the train up – looking at the Amtrak schedules, there are tons of trains going up and back, and even with getting to the metro & Union Station, I think it would be better than trying to drive in an unfamiliar town.

It’s been much too long since I’ve gone somewhere new & different – this should be fun.

So, I’m thinking I may head up to Philly next month for a couple days for the Philadelphia Flower Show & the Tutankhamun exhibit. Looking at the maps, the convention center/hotel/museum all are within about a mile of each other, which is good, but I know absolutely nothing of Philly, so it may also all be in the skankiest part of town.

So, if anyone out there knows the area around the convention center at all and can tell me if it’s semi-decent or if I’m not going to want to even leave my hotel room, that would be great.

Picked up my grandmother today and got the gate pass* to pick her up. Last year it was an actual multipart form that was filled out and I took to security. Today it was a boarding pass for a flight to Boston that said “Void without attached flight coupon”…which obviously was not attached, but had a gate number in the same security section.

The first security stop only made sure the name matched my driver’s license.

The second security person only wanted to see some piece of paper in my hand. (I shit you not, I had it folded in quarters – it could have been ANYTHING and I held it up and they waved me through.)

I forgot about the shoe thing. Note to self: Don’t wear the Timberlands when going through airport security – they don’t exactly slip on & off easily.

* Yes, Virginia, you can still go to the gate to pick someone up! Just go to the ticket counter and tell them you need a gate pass**. You need to present ID, and tell them who you’re picking up so they can check it against the manifest. You can only get 1 pass per incoming person, but it CAN be done. It may help that I walk up there and announce “I have to meet an elderly woman in a wheelchair” and I seem to have a massive protective attitude when doing it, but I don’t know of any actual “reason” that is required to get one.

** If you’ve lived in Japan, don’t go with the natural instinct of calling it a “platform pass” (pass to get to the train but not on it) cause they won’t know what the hell you are talking about.

Note to self: Ask how long the work will take before dropping off the car so you are not surprised when they say four hours. (Which I shouldn’t have been anyway.) But hey, it’s worth it, I’ll have a car in proper alignment and passing inspection.

I love how when I call my ISP they tell me I can check system status online. Chances are if I am calling, it’s because I can’t get online.

I have a small birdbath on the back deck to replace the “plastic table birdbath” that was created one day when a storm flipped it over. The new birdbath is just an oversized shallow pasta plate that seemed to be perfect and easy to keep clean, etc. I have yet to see a bird venture near the damn thing. Little flying ingrates.

The dog, who was soooo not happy with my packing up on Saturday morning, apparently got over it. It took him at least 5 minutes yesterday when I got back in before he noticed I was even back, and I got an “Oh, HI! Were you gone?!” greeting…

Colonial Beach is truly the land that time forgot. If you ever want to get away from pretty much everything for a couple days, this is a good place for it. My motel door had an actual real metal key.

Floyd Landis now qualifies as tough in my eyes. He’s getting his hip replaced after the Tour de France, and isn’t taking any pain medication in the meantime. I get a hangnail and it’s “Where is the advil and wine?!”

Moxley, Snoopy & Target all have kennel reservations for the beach trip.

*whew*

It’s gonna cost an arm and a leg, but it’s a VERY good place so I don’t care. Old Towne Pet Resort. Moxley’s “suite” is 5′x6′ (should be roomy enough for a 30 lb dog), he gets 3 walks a day, one play session, 2 meals and a snack, plus a mandatory bath cause he’s there more than 3 days. (Fine by me!)

Snoopy & Target will share a suite (25% discount on the second cat), with 2 meals a day, snack and a play session.

In addition, here are some of the other things you can get for your pets (yes, they play well into pet owner guilt)
– Grooming
– Pool sessions for dogs
– Canine massage
– TLC time (quiet one on one cuddle sessions)
– Limo service (they’ll come and pick up your pet)
– Personal Shopping Allowance – set a price limit and they’ll take your critter through the gift shop to pick out toys.
– Photos of your pet at play
– TV’s and Webcams in some suites

I seem to have spent about 15 of the last 30 hours sleeping. :)

Still flying pretty high from yesterday – what an absolutely perfect weekend, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was great to have Matt (aka, the Marine) down there, too – I knew folks there, and it’s certainly not the end of the world to be on your own, but it just really is nice to have someone at the finish just for you.

The race report is up.

It was such a screwy week last week, I needed this road trip/long weekend SO badly.

I have never been so happy to have a 4 hour drive ahead of me than I was Friday night. Hit the hotel, called my brother who informed me that Mason won – I’m standing in front of the hotel and screaming “YES!!!!” and getting some strange looks, but it is St Pat’s day, so they all just think I’m drunk anyway. Send Matt another email that he should come down, because the room is not a broom closet afterall and there is definitely room for another body. Hit the bar for a beer and some unwinding time – good band – if you’re ever somewhere that Rock Star Parking is playing, catch them. I ended up talking to them later down in the lobby cause I was still too wound up to even think about sleeping and ended up puttering around a bit – nice guys, too. Finally got to bed around 4 AM, after getting an email from Matt stating that I am evil.

Up at 8ish, off to breakfast, then to watch the 8K. Oh. My. God. The wind. The winds were awful. I ended up with a lovely sunburned and windburned face. I’ve got a good case of nerves going on already – the weather is freaking me out. Then my phone rings and I hear the words “I’m on my way” from Matt. WOOHOO! Then watched the little kids races, then off to packet pickup. I was prepared for it to be much more crowded, but I was in & out in no time, with race number and some throwaway gloves, cause if Sunday was going to be like Saturday, I was gonna freeze before we even got started. Back to the hotel and slept until Matt got there. Headed out for a late lunch, then we both sacked out for a couple more hours afterwards. (Sleep became a recurring theme for me this weekend.)

Then we met up with several other BT’ers for dinner. I’d met Liz & Mike before (Quantico 5 miler) and finally got to meet Christine, Shannon, Christian (and several of his friends, names completely forgotten), Debbie & Trixie. They ended up having to split us up between two tables, so it was me, Matt, Liz, Mike, Trixie, Christine & Debbie at our table. The fact that Matt did not run screaming from the restaurant is quite the testament to his character. You get 5 women together and well, things will get raunchy very quickly… Guys, you have nothing on us when it comes to locker room talk. Can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. By the time we left, the nerves were totally gone – I was ready. I’m pretty sure we were sacked out again before 10.

Then up at five-freaking-thirty the next morning. When I checked in, the desk clerk had said the kitchen opened at 7 for breakfast, despite the races. Wrong! And glad I found that out early on – they were up and running at 5:30, so I stumbled down and got a bagel. Back upstairs and let the layering begin! Ran in my bike pants again – they are great – good tight spandex on the calves and then looser at the top and fleece lined. Then tank top, throwaway t-shirt, long sleeved shirt, hat, sunglasses & tossable gloves. Only thing I’d do differently next time is grab a trashbag as a windbreaker while waiting for things to get started. We head on down to the start, I get in corral 5 (aka, the slow group), just behind the 2:30 pace group and stand around and bounce and try to stay warm. We got a flyover for our start. The entire crowd went absolutely apeshit for that. Took between 5 and 10 minutes to actually get to the start line once the gun went off. Great race, and yes, I cried when I was finished.

Finished and went and slept for a couple hours. Then we went and got lunch (Guinness and french toast. Recovery brunch of champions) and I kinda felt guilty realizing there were still people out there running the full and I had run my race, showered, slept and had lunch. :) Walking to and from lunch was…interesting. On the way back, he asked, “Where are you going?” (I’d gotten turned around and was not heading back towards the hotel…) “I don’t know – I’m just sort of trying to go in a straight line.”

Got Matt back on his way home, cheered in the 7 hour marathon group and then went and slept some more. Hit the bar for dinner, watched the last runner come in there, and then was sacked out again by 11, and slept until 8 this morning. Leisurely drive home and yet another nap upon arrival. Like I said, sleep is a recurring theme this weekend. And I still can’t get the silly grin off my face.

Oh, and if I can get a race number, I will be doing the MCM this fall.

Will do a full update/trip report tomorrow, but it’s late & I’m tired – but this was of note:

Why it’s good to hang at the race hotel for an extra nite:

You go down for a couple beers & dinner and then find yourself outside on the boardwalk, screaming in someone that has done TWO marathons in one day. (Today’s race was for a great charity and this gents goal had been ~8K and he came in around ~20K in donations…)

And oh, yeah, he’s old enough to be my grandfather. Watching that finish, with a police escort, was pretty amazing. I seemed to be the only one in the little circle of people around me that had run today – I had to do a very quick explanation of how Very Important it was to scream this guy into the finish at the top of our lungs. And we did. And I went and tackled him and gave him the biggest hug I had when he finished. And another one a couple minutes later, too. Cause damn, that is hard core.

Nothing quite like rolling into the Oceanfront at midnight on St Pats day – just a few drunk people out there. Made good time getting down here, no problems with the directions, and I am glad I came down tonight instead of tomorrow morning – I needed the road trip – I’m already more relaxed.

The room is terrific – microwave, fridge, coffee maker & a double bed, even if it is a murphy bed (it was the last room at the cheap weekend rate, the lady on the phone had initially thought it might be a single…)

The kitchenette of sorts is a very GOOD thing seeing as how the kitchen won’t be open early enough to even grab toast on Sunday, so I’ll hit the 7-11 down the street for bread or bagels or something tomorrow so I can snarf something down before going out.

Work status in limbo until next week, but boss is OK w/what I presented, we just need upper management to bite. I win no matter what, so it’s all good, just would have been nice to have it finalized before I left today.

Well, looking in the mirror, I still have a hint of red in my hair, and frankly, have a bit of an Irish thing going with my look tonight, so I’m gonna go snag me a beer downstairs – the front desk clerk was quick to point out that the bar would be open til 2AM.

Slaìnte. :)

In prep for the weekend. I think I had less stuff to go to the beach.

Gonna head down Friday night, and watch the 8K Saturday morning and putter around the Expo in the afternoon for packet pickup.

Still waiting on brightroom.com to get the pics uploaded from Sunday’s race. That is driving me a bit nuts.

I’m quite paranoid about forgetting something, but really, short of my wallet, running shoes & chip, anything I forget, I can buy down there if I have to.

They’ve republished the course map with the water stations marked on it. :) Within about 10 seconds I had that little bit of info committed to memory. 1.5, 3, 4.5, 6, 8, 9.5 & 11.

America West isn’t exactly filling me with confidence right now. I don’t think the idiot on the phone had a clue as to what is actually happening at the gates in the airport and proceeded to tell me how to find the America West ticket counter. I finally got it through to her that at the gate the airline flags & flight numbers are getting changed, and she said oh no, it would be listed as an AW flight.

At least we’ll have plenty of time for Grandma to have a full on meltdown while we wait.

But, ipod has been retrieved from the call, so all is right in my little world/