Matt here:
Well I just wanted to make a quick note about Paris. It is a great adventure but emphasis on the challange that adventure implies. We have two difficulties: language and a five year old. Now the thing is, we are getting most of the trip paid for because I have a meeting here and since we are in the UK already, the flights are cheap but if you were to plan a once in a life trip to Paris you would probably try to learn some French (not that it would help) and probaby not bring a small child.
Now that being said, we are also very lucky to have this chance and it is actually seems to bring us closer when we have no one but ourselves to depend on. And to be honest, Frankie is very patient considering. I have actually been trying to learn a little French for the last few months but it is too little to late. Odds are that thier worst English is better than my best French.
But the truth is no one has been rude or caused us any problems, it is just we are confused very often. Part of the problem is that it is not just a language barrier but a cultureal barrier as well. For instance, we don't know if you just sit down at a restaraunt or if you have to be seated. Well if you can't ask the waitress what do you do, gesture awkwardly appears to be the answer until they realize you are American.
Anyway, having a good time but it is exhausting.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Ps
I'd also like to mention that I'm so glad to have Matt here in Paris. He's a great help Even with as experienced as I've become at traveling, I don't think I could do Paris all by myself. Matt is great at negotiating the language barrier, and navagating across the city. I'd be at my wits end without him.
The Coles are in Paris
Bonjour!
Matt, Frankie, and I had a fantastic day in Paris today. We slept in late and woke up to sunny Parisian skies. It's a beautiful day today. Blue skies and bright sunshine, with a slight cool breeze. It feels like the first day of fall; One of those days where the moment you think to yourself that it's starting to get a little too warm out, the breeze swoops in and cold everything off. Pretty perfect.
We're staying in an apartment in "le Marais." It's in an adorable little neighborhood that seems to be an interesting mix of Jewish and gay populations. I know it seems at first to be an odd mix, but the two seem to be beautifully coexisting. It's the kind of place where a bar with a giant Tom of Finland mural is plunked right next to a Synagogue. Very eclectic, and very interesting.
The neighborhood itself doesn't seem to be too terribly touristy. Outside our door, we see mostly locals, which is great, except for the flip side is that we've also encountered very few English-speaking individuals. The apartment we're staying in is small, but very cute. It has a bedroom, a bathroom, a small living room, and a teeny tiny kitchen. It still has the original wooden beams from a million years ago when the building was first constructed, which is quite charming. It's on the second floor, and the windows open up onto a little pedestrian square: The Bourg Tibourg. Of course, every time we pass the sign for Bourg Tibourg, I hear the voice of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets in my head saying "Borg borg borg!" The square below us has at least four restaurants on it, and the surrounding streets are also filled with interesting and quirky little cafes and bakeries.
Our major outing for the day was a trip to "The Fleas." The Fleas is a weekly antique/flea market on the north side of Paris. The flea market was enormous, and covered a seemingly endless number of the city streets. It wasn't as crowded as the Portobello Market in London (thank goodness!), but also seemed a little overrun with stands selling cheap generic blue jeans and weird African masks. I was most interested in looking at antiques and weird decorative items, so I was a little disappointed with the market until we walked down the Rue Paul Bert.
This section of The Fleas was right up my alley. They had booth after booth of antiques and decorative items that all seem specifically chosen to be as odd and eclectic as possible. There were lots of mid-century modern furniture pieces, egg chairs, weird atomic age lamps, bizarre and disturbing paintings, vintage taxidermied animals, and all kinds of crazy, crazy things that I've never seen before. There was one booth that was solely devoted to enormous chrome sculptures and furniture. Another booth had the most amazing collection of vintage sunglasses that I had ever seen. One booth actually seemed to contain some sort of an old medical school cadaver. Just when I thought I had seen the weirdest thing I had ever seen in my life, we'd turn the corner and the next booth would top it. Most of the booths were meticulously set up, too, so that they all looked like little rooms taken from the inside of some sort of crazy house.
Needless to say, I loved every minute of it.
After The Fleas, we decided to lunch at a nearby place called the Restaurant Paul Bert. It was a nice restaurant, but honestly the meal was a real challenge to negotiate. Neither Matt or I speak French, and our waitress didn't know any English. Not that I expected her to, mind you. We're in Paris-- I get it. Everyone's French. I totally don't want to be that guy that comes in to a foreign country and complains when no one speaks their language. So, really... I'm not complaining. I'm just saying that it was really tough to order lunch from a menu that was entirely in French, from a waitress that was expecting us to be able to speak to her in French. My French is extremely limited. I basically know nothing. So, the whole process of getting food turned into a fairly epic negotiation. Every time we would make a mistake when we tried to order, the waitress would leave the table and return ten minutes later, likely hoping that in the interim we had suddenly learned how to speak French. It probably took a good half an hour to get the orders negotiated. It was a little intimidating, and exhausting.
Honestly, I wish I would have tried to learn more French for our trip to Paris. I have a few key phrases memorized, but here's the thing about those pocket French phrasebooks: Sure, I can look up the phonetic pronunciation of "I would like to order a grilled cheese sandwich," but every question that the person I'm talking to asks me in return is completely and utterly lost on me. I have no experience with the French language whatsoever. They might as well be speaking that weird African language that's all clicks and whistles.
Maybe the language barrier will give us less trouble when we get to the more tourist-filled parts of Paris. Still, even though we were able to negotiate lunch and the Metro with no major mishaps, it's still much harder than I thought it was going to be. I feel self-conscious-- Embarrassed that I can't speak the language, and frustrated that I can't communicate. Ah well. I'm sure as the days here pass, I'll get better. Or, it won't bother me as much. Either way.
Our last outing of the day today was the Jardin du Luxembourg. It’s the largest public park in Paris, and Frankie had a blast running around all of the playground equipment and making new French friends. The most interesting thing about the park was the number of benches and chairs scattered around the grounds. They were everywhere! Seriously, everywhere you looked there were picnic benches, chairs, or some other cozy place where you could sit and people watch. My realization of the day? People in Paris like to sit. They sit in cafes, on the street, in parks... Sitting and relaxing with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine is a major pastime in Paris. Sitting is to Paris what mountain biking is to Fort Collins. It's actually really nice-- It creates a very relaxed, casual, and friendly vibe.
After the park we popped into a grocery store and grabbed a few staples for the apartment. Now, we're resting and recharging our batteries before heading out to try and negotiate some dinner.
Wish us luck!
Matt, Frankie, and I had a fantastic day in Paris today. We slept in late and woke up to sunny Parisian skies. It's a beautiful day today. Blue skies and bright sunshine, with a slight cool breeze. It feels like the first day of fall; One of those days where the moment you think to yourself that it's starting to get a little too warm out, the breeze swoops in and cold everything off. Pretty perfect.
We're staying in an apartment in "le Marais." It's in an adorable little neighborhood that seems to be an interesting mix of Jewish and gay populations. I know it seems at first to be an odd mix, but the two seem to be beautifully coexisting. It's the kind of place where a bar with a giant Tom of Finland mural is plunked right next to a Synagogue. Very eclectic, and very interesting.
The neighborhood itself doesn't seem to be too terribly touristy. Outside our door, we see mostly locals, which is great, except for the flip side is that we've also encountered very few English-speaking individuals. The apartment we're staying in is small, but very cute. It has a bedroom, a bathroom, a small living room, and a teeny tiny kitchen. It still has the original wooden beams from a million years ago when the building was first constructed, which is quite charming. It's on the second floor, and the windows open up onto a little pedestrian square: The Bourg Tibourg. Of course, every time we pass the sign for Bourg Tibourg, I hear the voice of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets in my head saying "Borg borg borg!" The square below us has at least four restaurants on it, and the surrounding streets are also filled with interesting and quirky little cafes and bakeries.
Our major outing for the day was a trip to "The Fleas." The Fleas is a weekly antique/flea market on the north side of Paris. The flea market was enormous, and covered a seemingly endless number of the city streets. It wasn't as crowded as the Portobello Market in London (thank goodness!), but also seemed a little overrun with stands selling cheap generic blue jeans and weird African masks. I was most interested in looking at antiques and weird decorative items, so I was a little disappointed with the market until we walked down the Rue Paul Bert.
This section of The Fleas was right up my alley. They had booth after booth of antiques and decorative items that all seem specifically chosen to be as odd and eclectic as possible. There were lots of mid-century modern furniture pieces, egg chairs, weird atomic age lamps, bizarre and disturbing paintings, vintage taxidermied animals, and all kinds of crazy, crazy things that I've never seen before. There was one booth that was solely devoted to enormous chrome sculptures and furniture. Another booth had the most amazing collection of vintage sunglasses that I had ever seen. One booth actually seemed to contain some sort of an old medical school cadaver. Just when I thought I had seen the weirdest thing I had ever seen in my life, we'd turn the corner and the next booth would top it. Most of the booths were meticulously set up, too, so that they all looked like little rooms taken from the inside of some sort of crazy house.
Needless to say, I loved every minute of it.
After The Fleas, we decided to lunch at a nearby place called the Restaurant Paul Bert. It was a nice restaurant, but honestly the meal was a real challenge to negotiate. Neither Matt or I speak French, and our waitress didn't know any English. Not that I expected her to, mind you. We're in Paris-- I get it. Everyone's French. I totally don't want to be that guy that comes in to a foreign country and complains when no one speaks their language. So, really... I'm not complaining. I'm just saying that it was really tough to order lunch from a menu that was entirely in French, from a waitress that was expecting us to be able to speak to her in French. My French is extremely limited. I basically know nothing. So, the whole process of getting food turned into a fairly epic negotiation. Every time we would make a mistake when we tried to order, the waitress would leave the table and return ten minutes later, likely hoping that in the interim we had suddenly learned how to speak French. It probably took a good half an hour to get the orders negotiated. It was a little intimidating, and exhausting.
Honestly, I wish I would have tried to learn more French for our trip to Paris. I have a few key phrases memorized, but here's the thing about those pocket French phrasebooks: Sure, I can look up the phonetic pronunciation of "I would like to order a grilled cheese sandwich," but every question that the person I'm talking to asks me in return is completely and utterly lost on me. I have no experience with the French language whatsoever. They might as well be speaking that weird African language that's all clicks and whistles.
Maybe the language barrier will give us less trouble when we get to the more tourist-filled parts of Paris. Still, even though we were able to negotiate lunch and the Metro with no major mishaps, it's still much harder than I thought it was going to be. I feel self-conscious-- Embarrassed that I can't speak the language, and frustrated that I can't communicate. Ah well. I'm sure as the days here pass, I'll get better. Or, it won't bother me as much. Either way.
Our last outing of the day today was the Jardin du Luxembourg. It’s the largest public park in Paris, and Frankie had a blast running around all of the playground equipment and making new French friends. The most interesting thing about the park was the number of benches and chairs scattered around the grounds. They were everywhere! Seriously, everywhere you looked there were picnic benches, chairs, or some other cozy place where you could sit and people watch. My realization of the day? People in Paris like to sit. They sit in cafes, on the street, in parks... Sitting and relaxing with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine is a major pastime in Paris. Sitting is to Paris what mountain biking is to Fort Collins. It's actually really nice-- It creates a very relaxed, casual, and friendly vibe.
After the park we popped into a grocery store and grabbed a few staples for the apartment. Now, we're resting and recharging our batteries before heading out to try and negotiate some dinner.
Wish us luck!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Bad Mom, birthday edition
I just read over my post, and am totally horrified by the realization of what I fed Frankie today. Maple syrup, chocolate milk, cake, two meals that included bacon, fried sandwiches, and McDonalds. Good grief...Surely that must qualify as some form of nutritional child abuse?
Frankie's diet is normally much, much more healthy. She eats fresh fruit and veggies every day. What we did today is not the norm.
Seriously.
I promise!
Frankie's diet is normally much, much more healthy. She eats fresh fruit and veggies every day. What we did today is not the norm.
Seriously.
I promise!
I think I may have taken the whole "birthday treat" thing too far. Lesson learned, blog-style.
Monkey Madhouse Madness
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Today was Frankie's big birthday celebration, and the day was a smashing success. I wish all of you could have been there. Since being seperated by an ocean makes that pretty much impossible, here are some of the highlights from the day:
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Frankie woke up bright and early, and came downstairs to some festive birthday decorations.
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Before breakfast, she found a tiny Hello Kitty doll hiding in the flower vase.
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Frankie got her favorite breakfast: pancakes and bacon.
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After breakfast, Frankie and I played a few games, Matt threw her around "Cougar-style," and Frankie and I zipped to the store and picked up her birthday cakes. Here's Matt, getting in the party mood by seeing how many noisemakers he can stuff into his mouth.
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For lunch, I created a sandwich to Frankie's birthday specifications. Behold, the "Deluxe Elvis." Once in a blue moon, Frankie will ask me to make a grilled peanut butter and cheese sandwich, which we have affectionately dubbed "The Elvis." (I'm sure Trevor will interject that a true Elvis sandwich should have bananas on it, but why spoil the deliciousness of a fried sandwich with the inclusion of healthy fresh fruit?)
The Deluxe Elvis is a slightly modified version of the original Elvis: it's a fried sandwich with peanut butter, jelly, nutella, and bacon. I know... It sounds gross, but it's actually pretty delicious. Dasterdly unhealthy, but yummy.
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After lunch, Frankie opened her present: a princess Jasmine doll that she had been eyeing. I love the look of absolte glee on her face here.
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Then, it was on to Monkey Madhouse. Here's an overview of the place. It has a coffee bar at the front near a parent's sitting area. The playplace is in the back. It has slides, a ball pit, a playhouse, and all kinds of equipment to jump around on.
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Frankie, digging the Madness.
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Ball pit!
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Man down!
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This is Frankie, about an hour into the party. The look on her face is equal parts joy and exhaustion.
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Posing for the camera, sassy-style.
The pictures of Monkey Madhouse make the party look pretty sedate, but it was really wild in there. There were 22 kids, and about 20 parents. The kids were laughing and screaming, music was blaring, and the parents were all chatting. The noise and activity level was high. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, which made me really happy.
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I buzzed around chatting with the moms while Matt manned the "Dad Table." I'm pretty sure that they talked the whole time about rugby, soccer, Go Karts, or Top Gear.
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In the last half hour of the party, we moved into the "Party Room" for a snack.
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Here's a shot of most of the party guests, enjoying their snacks.
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The birthday girl.
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Cake #1: Hello Kitty
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Backup Cake (We had so many kids, one cake wouldn't feed them all!)
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Singing "Happy Birthday" to Frankie.
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Me and my girl.
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Frankie's loot.
After the snack and the singing, we cut the cake and put it into take-home treat bags for the kids. Apparently, the "take-away-cake-in-a-bag" thing is a British tradition. The kids don't actually eat birthday cake at the party-- They take it home instead. (Weird!)
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After the party, we had dinner at Frankie's favorite reminds-her-of-America spot: McDondalds.
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We got home and ate a little cake.
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Frankie opened a few presents. (And showed great restraint by deciding to leave half of them unopened for after the Paris trip.) Odd side note: We opened seven presents, and six of them were art supplies. (??)
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At the end of the evening, she took a birthday bath with a special request: Extra bubbles.
So, it was a pretty darn good birthday. Frankie and all of the other kids seemed happy, and it was good to see all of the moms and kids from the Dearham school again.
Now... The party continues, jet-setter-style. Six hours until Paris!! (Yeesh. I'd better get to bed pronto.)
Frankie's birthday in England
Getting over jetlag this time around has been a work progress. For some reason, I'm having a hard time getting re-adjusted to England time. Maybe that has something to do with Frankie, who's having a very hard time adjusting to the time change. Last night was the first night that her sleeping schedule was back to normal. The two nights before that, she was up from 11pm to 2 or 3am....WIDE AWAKE.
I'm glad that she was able to get some rest last night, since today we're celebrating her birthday. We have a big party for 20 of her school friends planned at Monkey Madhouse, an indoor playplace in the nearby town of Workington. She's thrilled about it, of course. It makes me happy to see her so excited.
Monkey Madhouse should be loads of fun for Frankie. I'm looking forward to it as well, and am trying to gear myself up for all of the mom chit-chat and socialization. If given the choice I'd prefer to run the party from behind a big screen where no one could see me, Wizard of Oz Style. But, that's not going to happen. Darn you, social conventions!
After the big birthday celebration today, we're getting up super early tomorrow to head for the airport and to our family trip to PARIS. I'm really excited! I haven't honestly done very much planning, and don't have a daily schedule for the trip, which is very unlike me. But I like the idea of just letting the days unfold in Paris. I know I want to see the modern art museum and walk past the Eiffel Tower, but other than that... I just want to be in Paris. I'll be happy sitting in a cafe, sipping coffee and eating pasteries.
I'm glad that she was able to get some rest last night, since today we're celebrating her birthday. We have a big party for 20 of her school friends planned at Monkey Madhouse, an indoor playplace in the nearby town of Workington. She's thrilled about it, of course. It makes me happy to see her so excited.
Monkey Madhouse should be loads of fun for Frankie. I'm looking forward to it as well, and am trying to gear myself up for all of the mom chit-chat and socialization. If given the choice I'd prefer to run the party from behind a big screen where no one could see me, Wizard of Oz Style. But, that's not going to happen. Darn you, social conventions!
After the big birthday celebration today, we're getting up super early tomorrow to head for the airport and to our family trip to PARIS. I'm really excited! I haven't honestly done very much planning, and don't have a daily schedule for the trip, which is very unlike me. But I like the idea of just letting the days unfold in Paris. I know I want to see the modern art museum and walk past the Eiffel Tower, but other than that... I just want to be in Paris. I'll be happy sitting in a cafe, sipping coffee and eating pasteries.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monkey Travel
We're back in the UK!
Matt picked us up from the Manchester airport this morning. It was really great to see him-- Frankie and I were both missing him a lot. After many hugs and smooches, we loaded up the car and headed home on the (punishingly long) 2 1/2 hour drive home from the airport. Once we got back to Maryport, Frankie and I crashed for about five hours. Now, it's 7:30 in the evening and it feels like morning. My body clock is all kinds of screwed up. I didn't sleep a wink on the airplane, and now I'm nowhere near acclimated to UK time.
Prediction: It's going to be a late night tonight.
The flights themselves were fine. Actually, better than fine. Frankie is really great on airplanes. She settles in, we chat, play games, and watch movies. She's actually pretty easy to manage when we're physically on the airplane. The only problems I really encountered were in the airports themselves.
Air travel, in my opinion, is an exercise in testing the limits of patience. There's so much standing around, waiting in lines, chaos, and negotiating throngs of people that I really have to force myself to get into a Zen state of mind when I fly. I am a leaf on the wind.
But you know what four year olds don't excel at? Zen-like patience. Asking Frankie to stand still and quietly wait is like asking a snake to help you tie your shoes. Not physically possible.
It's like Frankie just can't physically sit still when we're in an airport. She always wanting to run around, twirl in corridors, horse around on escalators, pull at my hands and clothes, and squirm squirm squirm. There is never a point in time when she is not moving. With all of the noise and people crowding around, racing by, it’s really stressful to keep track of her while still managing to get through the airport and to our plane. Honestly, I think it would be easier to travel with a spider monkey than it is to travel with a four-year-old, because at least then it would be socially acceptable to cage and tranquilize it.
So, the airplane itself keeps her captive enough that it's not really a problem. But the airport = Monkey Time. The three-hour layover in Newark was really tough, because all Frankie wanted to do was run around, which I couldn't do:
a) because I was exhausted from the first 3 1/2 hour flight
b) because I had all of our carry-on luggage in tow
c) because the airport was insanely crowded
I'm not really complaining about Frankie, of course. She did a great job, all things considered. That kind of a trip is a lot to ask of a little one. It was just a very, very long day.
It’s good to be home.
Matt picked us up from the Manchester airport this morning. It was really great to see him-- Frankie and I were both missing him a lot. After many hugs and smooches, we loaded up the car and headed home on the (punishingly long) 2 1/2 hour drive home from the airport. Once we got back to Maryport, Frankie and I crashed for about five hours. Now, it's 7:30 in the evening and it feels like morning. My body clock is all kinds of screwed up. I didn't sleep a wink on the airplane, and now I'm nowhere near acclimated to UK time.
Prediction: It's going to be a late night tonight.
The flights themselves were fine. Actually, better than fine. Frankie is really great on airplanes. She settles in, we chat, play games, and watch movies. She's actually pretty easy to manage when we're physically on the airplane. The only problems I really encountered were in the airports themselves.
Air travel, in my opinion, is an exercise in testing the limits of patience. There's so much standing around, waiting in lines, chaos, and negotiating throngs of people that I really have to force myself to get into a Zen state of mind when I fly. I am a leaf on the wind.
But you know what four year olds don't excel at? Zen-like patience. Asking Frankie to stand still and quietly wait is like asking a snake to help you tie your shoes. Not physically possible.
It's like Frankie just can't physically sit still when we're in an airport. She always wanting to run around, twirl in corridors, horse around on escalators, pull at my hands and clothes, and squirm squirm squirm. There is never a point in time when she is not moving. With all of the noise and people crowding around, racing by, it’s really stressful to keep track of her while still managing to get through the airport and to our plane. Honestly, I think it would be easier to travel with a spider monkey than it is to travel with a four-year-old, because at least then it would be socially acceptable to cage and tranquilize it.
So, the airplane itself keeps her captive enough that it's not really a problem. But the airport = Monkey Time. The three-hour layover in Newark was really tough, because all Frankie wanted to do was run around, which I couldn't do:
a) because I was exhausted from the first 3 1/2 hour flight
b) because I had all of our carry-on luggage in tow
c) because the airport was insanely crowded
I'm not really complaining about Frankie, of course. She did a great job, all things considered. That kind of a trip is a lot to ask of a little one. It was just a very, very long day.
It’s good to be home.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Antique marathon with Lisa and Mike
I had a really great last day in the US. In the morning, I packed for England and shut everything down at the Fort Collins house. Then, Lisa picked Frankie and me up and drove us down to Jim and Jo's house in Thornton. Mike had the day free, so he met us there too. Jim, Jo, and Erin spent the day with Frankie and gave me the chance to have a day on the town with Lisa and Mike.
Our plan was to head to a giant antique store in Denver called "Brass Armidillo." The place was seriously huge--We got there at about 11:30 am, and ended up staying until 4:30pm. That's five hours of uninterrupted antique shopping. We eventually were able to walk through all of the aisles and booths, and came away feeling like covering all that ground was a pretty major accomplishment. Sort of like the junker version of climbing Everest.
It was lots of fun, and there was a lot of ooohing and aaahing over the great vintage stuff. We also just about laughed ourselves silly.
I was so happy to be able to spend the day with Lisa and Mike before heading off to the UK. It was a perfect send-off.
Our plan was to head to a giant antique store in Denver called "Brass Armidillo." The place was seriously huge--We got there at about 11:30 am, and ended up staying until 4:30pm. That's five hours of uninterrupted antique shopping. We eventually were able to walk through all of the aisles and booths, and came away feeling like covering all that ground was a pretty major accomplishment. Sort of like the junker version of climbing Everest.
It was lots of fun, and there was a lot of ooohing and aaahing over the great vintage stuff. We also just about laughed ourselves silly.
Tif, Grand Pooh-Bah
Sgt. Chappy
The fabulous Lisa and her gorgeous vintage Bakelite jewelry.
Mike, earning his nickname of the day: "Van Pelt."
I was so happy to be able to spend the day with Lisa and Mike before heading off to the UK. It was a perfect send-off.
Back to the UK
Frankie and I are all packed up and ready to head to the airport. We're flying back to the UK today, and are really looking forward to being on the same continent as Matt again.
I'm a little nervous for the flight, since it will be my first time flying to England alone with Frankie. I'm not sure how it'll go, solo parenting over the ocean. All I can do is hope that Frankie is in the mood to watch a ton of movies, and that I can eventually coax her into a nap.
Wish me luck!
I'm a little nervous for the flight, since it will be my first time flying to England alone with Frankie. I'm not sure how it'll go, solo parenting over the ocean. All I can do is hope that Frankie is in the mood to watch a ton of movies, and that I can eventually coax her into a nap.
Wish me luck!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
A Milestone
I officially resigned from my job at CSU yesterday-- I'm ready to move on to a new adventure.
Leaving CSU is a bit bittersweet. I've been there for a long time (thirteen years!), and have made a lot of good friends there. Still, I feel like it's time for a change. Not sure what that change is going to be yet, but I'm excited to see the possibilities.
Wish me luck!
Leaving CSU is a bit bittersweet. I've been there for a long time (thirteen years!), and have made a lot of good friends there. Still, I feel like it's time for a change. Not sure what that change is going to be yet, but I'm excited to see the possibilities.
Wish me luck!
Friday, August 20, 2010
New School Pictures
I've heard through the grapevine that the picture of Frankie's nervous little face on the first day of Kindergarten was a little heartbreaking for some of you. It was for me, too. But, here are a few pictures from the second and third days of Kindergarten to show that she's bounced back like a champ.
Second day:
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Third day:
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Second day:
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Third day:
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Thursday, August 19, 2010
Kindergarten Update
Second day of Kindergarten today. Here's what Frankie said:
"I don't just like Kindergarten. I LOVE IT!!!"
In case you can't tell, Frankie had a really good day today. She was a little sad when I dropped her off, but a nice little boy named Reed helped her out by giving her a hug and a pat on the back. Now, they're super best friends. She played with him all day, and couldn't stop talking about him.
I'm so happy she made a new friend, and that she's liking Kindergarten. I hope it's not too hard for her to go back to England for a few more weeks, but when we do finally get back to Colorado she will hopefully fall right back into the school groove.
"I don't just like Kindergarten. I LOVE IT!!!"
In case you can't tell, Frankie had a really good day today. She was a little sad when I dropped her off, but a nice little boy named Reed helped her out by giving her a hug and a pat on the back. Now, they're super best friends. She played with him all day, and couldn't stop talking about him.
I'm so happy she made a new friend, and that she's liking Kindergarten. I hope it's not too hard for her to go back to England for a few more weeks, but when we do finally get back to Colorado she will hopefully fall right back into the school groove.
Kindergarten pictures
The first day of Kindergarten seemed to go pretty well for Frankie. She was really nervous going in-- I think whe was a little overwhelmed by having to meet all of the new people, and to have to find her way in that big, busy school. This picture pretty much sums up her emotional state at the beginning of the morning:
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But by the time I picked her up in the afternoon, she seemed to have lost most of her nervousness. She was still a little on the fence about the whole experience, though. There were a lot of new rules to learn, and routines to figure out. But, hey... there were also corn dogs for lunch. So, how bad could it be?
Here are a few pictures from her Big Day:
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Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Kindergarten Already?
I really can't believe it, but Frankie's first day of Kindergarten is tomorrow.
How on Earth did she get so grown-up?
Even though we're only in Fort Collins for another week, our stay out here just happened to overlap with the first three days of Kindergarten at Frankie's school. I talked to Frankie's teacher, and even though Frankie won't technically be starting school out here until late October, we agreed that it would be a good idea for Frankie to come in for the first three days of the semester so she can learn the ropes and meet her teacher and classmates.
We did a little back-to-school shopping today, and Frankie picked out a new dress for her first day. At 8:45 I'll be at her Colorado school, trying not to cry as I say goodbye.
How on Earth did she get so grown-up?
Even though we're only in Fort Collins for another week, our stay out here just happened to overlap with the first three days of Kindergarten at Frankie's school. I talked to Frankie's teacher, and even though Frankie won't technically be starting school out here until late October, we agreed that it would be a good idea for Frankie to come in for the first three days of the semester so she can learn the ropes and meet her teacher and classmates.
We did a little back-to-school shopping today, and Frankie picked out a new dress for her first day. At 8:45 I'll be at her Colorado school, trying not to cry as I say goodbye.
Viva Las Vegas!
I just got back from my Vegas trip with K.C., and I'm already experiencing serious pangs of withdrawl. I had a fantastic time on our "girls weekend." We talked, laughed, read books by the pool, drank a few cocktails, and did a little gambling. By the end of the trip, my voice was sore from laughing so much. It was really, really fantastic.
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Here's the view from our hotel room at the MGM Grand. Technically, this was our second hotel room. We had booked ourselves into a suite, but when we got up to our room on the fourth floor we were greeted by the deafening PANG PANG PANG!! of construction right underneath our bedroom window. Since the fourth floor is the first guest level at the hotel (floors 1 -3 are casino floors), the construction cranes and bulldozers couldn't possibly be closer to our room. K.C. and I sat on the windowsill for awhile watching the construction progress, and even though it was kind of an interesting spectacle we realized pretty quickly that it didn't exactly create a restful vibe. We called the front desk and made them move us to another suite on the 9th floor.
The 9th floor suite was much better in terms of noise, but weirdly it had a problem too: It smelled. Pretty badly, actually. Like there was something wrong with the plumbing in the bathroom, if you catch my drift. They didn't have any other available rooms that night to move us to, since the hotel was full due to the Lady Gaga concert they were hosting. So, we left the room and hung out in the casino for awhile while they snaked the pipes. When we got back to the room, it was much better. Still, I was a little miffed that we had two problems with our rooms. Matt and I have gone to the MGM Grand every year for the past four years, and have never had a single problem. So, it was definitely aun unexpected (unwelcome) surprise.
It's possible, though, that all of our bad luck with the rooms was because some sort of Karmic vortex had been created by K.C.'s FANTASTIC luck on the slot machines. I tell you, that lady's luck was seriously unreal. I sat next to her the entire time, and it seemed like every spin of the reels brought up some sort of bonus screen or jackpot situation. We played the low-roller-style penny slots, and at the end of the trip she was up six hundred dollars. Go, K.C.! Woo!
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My favorite gambling-type machine is the Sigma Derby. It's an old-fashioned horse racing game, a throwback to old Vegas. It's probably fifty years old, and is the last operating machine of its kind in Las Vegas. It's a ton of retro fun. Six players sit around the table and bet on which two horses will come in first and second. The little mechanical horses take a spin around the track, and everyone that bet on the winning pair wins anywhere from 2 to 200 quarters (based on the odds). It's the only machine in the casino, maybe on the entire strip, that takes (and spits out) actual quarters. Ten dollars at the Sigma Derby can last a really long time, which is great for a low-roller like me.
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The guy at the far right is D-list celebrity Drew Lachey. He's the brother of Jessica Simpson's ex-husband Nick, and was the winner of the second season of Dancing With the Stars. He was literally ten feet away from us at Bally's casino. It was funny, actually. There was a huge line of people queuing up to take pictures of/with him, but K.C. and I were totally nonplussed. We couldn't understand why anyone would stand in line to take a picture with the guy-- Not really sure what the allure was. We could barely be bothered to turn around from our slot machine chairs to look at him. (I snapped this shot from my chair, but only for blog-related purposes.)
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On Saturday night, K.C. and I took a "Haunted Vegas" tour. (The picture above is of the divining rods the tour director handed out to us as we signed in.) We met our tour group in the lobby of the Royal Resort Hotel. We planned on having a cocktail or two before hopping on the bus, but as it turned out, the Royal Resort is the only hotel in Vegas with no casino, and no bar. Weird, right?
We came very close to deciding to bail on the tour, but I'm so glad we didn't. It was really good, cheesy, spooky fun.
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The guy in the top hat is our tour guide, Jack. He was in his seventies, and is a licensed undertaker. The bus tour was almost three hours long, and he talked, joked, and told stories the entiure time. He did a great job of keeping the energy level on the tour up, despite the fact that it lasted until almost midnight.
There were only fifteen of us on the tour, but one of the men sitting next to us was so incredibly annoying. He had a thick, thick, Long Island accent, and asked our guide a question about every five minutes. Three hours of that gets very, very old, especially when the questions were often on subjects that Jack had already discussed, or about things that Jack couldn't possibly be able to answer. K.C. and I left the tour with that guy's voice ringing in our heads. He started every question he asked with the phrase, "HEY JACK..." Thus, we started referring to the question-asker as "Heyjack," and by the end of the trip had pretty well perfected our imitation of his crazy Long Island accent.
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Me, divining rods and toe-tag in hand.
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One of our tour stops was the Flamingo Hotel, where we were instructed to take pictures at a site rumored to be haunted by Bugsy Segal. Here's K.C., looking skeptical. (Or perhaps thinking of punching Heyjack.)
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Late night in the Flamingo gardens.
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One of my pictures at the (haunted?) Bugsy Segal memorial. Paranormal orbs caught on film? You be the judge...
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Another stop was a park in Henderson that was rumored to have paranormal activity. Here's K.C., taking a ghostly picture.
The tour also touched on hauntings tied to Tupac, Elvis, Red Foxx, Liberace, and a few locals that met untimely demises. Even if you didn't get into the ghost stuff, the history of Vegas was really interesting.
Now, here are a few more random trip pictures:
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K.C., rocking Sigma Derby.
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K.C.'s big win. (I was so jealous!!)
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Me, goofing around at the casino.
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Lucky ladies.
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Roar!
I'm sure there are a million other details that I'm forgetting-- Our fantastic Friday night dinner at Craftsteak, the crazy outfits on the Lady Gaga concert-goers, the completely insane meat market scene at the MGM Grand pool.... But mostly, I just remember the laughing.
Great trip!
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