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To celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary, Michael and I drove up to Central California and spent the weekend in El Paso de Robles. This weekend was particularly significant because it was the first weekend we had ever spent away from our children. Three days has never seemed so long…
It was a lovely weekend. We had a couple of really great meals (and one awful one, Mexican food, go figure…), drank some even better wine, and even saw a movie (Star Trek… Spock as cage fighter… awesome!) Turns out we don’t sleep in, even when we can, and we (read: I) don’t really know what to do with ourselves (read: myself) without our children.
If we had stayed another day we would have made it out to the beach and maybe even Hearst Castle since Michael has never been. Maybe some other time.
Here’s a picture of the fifty acres that may change our lives.
The gentle slope of the low rise gives way to several acres of flat, usable land, bordered by a neighboring vinyard. There is even more acreage stretching out behind this vantage point, and in the distance, (fewer than ten miles away) there is Lake San Antonio, from which the river valley takes its name.
The land is very nearly in Steinbeck country, about twenty-five minutes north of El Paso de Robles, California, and another twenty minutes west of Highway 101 in an area called Lockwood. I write “area” because we did not see an actual town. There are mountains to the west, the storied Coastal Range, and past them, the Pacific Ocean. Only twenty miles away as the crow flies.
I loved it the moment I saw it, and I know that Michael did too because I felt ill as I watched him walk around the little hill, staring off into the distance, plotting.
It would be something to live in such a place, to build something from the ground up, accountable to no one but our creditors.
I want this for him. I really do. Who follows their dreams anymore? Who follows their dreams?
If I were a proper blogger I would have dug out the wedding photos, but since they’re on a disk in the safe and I’m pressed for time, this one will have to do.
Four years ago today, I was a nervous wreck, I mean I married the man of my dreams. Ha. Really, I couldn’t ask for a better partner, and I certainly deserve worse.
Later this morning we’re heading up the coast to Paso Robles for a romantic weekend away. We have big plans for sushi (since I’m pumping and dumping anyway), wine tasting, a spa treatment, and spending a day with a realtor. (Yes, Michael still wants to be a farmer…)
For the record, I should state that I am having serious anxiety over leaving my children for the weekend. I’ve never been away from Magnus for more than a few hours and I miss Hunter whenever she’s not with me. I cannot even express how much I do not want to be without them. Nor can I express my gratitude to my brave sister who has agreed to care for our children and all of the rest of our creatures this weekend.
Here’s hoping everyone fares well!
Michael still wants to be a farmer. A grape farmer. Specifically, a wine grape farmer and/or wine maker. To that end, he has been scouring internet listings for acreage suitable for that purpose. And last week, he thought he found something.
So on Saturday morning, quite at the last minute, we decided to drive up the coast to the very top of Santa Barbara County to look at twenty acres in the emerging Santa Maria wine country. Luckily, Hunter was able to spend the day with my sister. (Eight plus hours in the car would have been a circle of hell for us as well as for Hunter…) And we took Magnus with us.
A word about that kid… he really is the best baby ever. Handled the whole trip like a champ. Sleeping most of the day and still knocking out nine hours when we got home that night. But this is what he thinks about his Dad farming grapes:
Anyway. We got up to Santa Maria around three in the afternoon, met the realtor and proceeded to look around. The area is beautiful and temperate. Wide open land with rolling hills. But the property itself was less than ideal. Only about fourteen usable acres out of twenty; a large ditch cutting between two swales, one of which was too steep to plant. The adjacent property was also for sale, and, talk about not recognizing a piece of land from that which was presented on the internet… A good reminder for us in the “buyer beware” department.
So we hiked around the property a little, filled our shoes, socks, and jeans with foxtails, hopped in the car, and headed back home.
The search will continue…
So I had a week “off” of school for Thanksgiving break… Some highlights:
Tuesday morning I took Hunter to the doctor because her right eye was gunky and red. Turns out she had pink-eye. Probably from wiping the snot from her nose into her eyes. We’ll ignore the fact that one can also get pink-eye from playing in his or her own poop.
Our old friends Dave and Denise came to visit from Washington State and made a pumpkin cheese cake. Hunter helped of course. Helped by tossing a table spoon into the mixer when Dave wasn’t looking… (mixer: one, table spoon: zero…)
The Saturday after Thanksgiving we were off to Arizona to spend time with Michael’s family. Hunter quite enjoyed hanging out with her cousins Bryce and Jacob:
The trip home was horrific. Primarily because we ended up in the Emergency Room of a tiny hospital just over the California/Arizona border. Hunter woke up from her nap right after we crossed the border and began screaming inconsolably and writhing in pain. Long, agonizing story short: after about an hour, Hunter pooped while we were in the emergency room, and she was fine. Discharged with a diagnosis of “Constipation”.
Five hours later Hunter was playing in Uncle Ivery’s Palm Desert back yard:
Two hours later, we were home. The freakish holiday traffic was nothing compared to the relief we felt that our daughter was all right.
And it is unlikely that we are going to leave home again any time soon.
Day three was spent at the resort, walking on the beach, swimming in the pool, taking a nap that Hunter asked for, and deciding that we should head home a day early. We ventured off the resort for dinner, stopping first at a nearby park where Hunter enjoyed the highlight of her trip… the swings! We also had dinner at this quiet little Italian place where Hunter decided to use her outdoor voice for everything. Seriously, she has never been that loud in a restaurant before.
After dinner we stopped for coffee and dessert to go, and met a family with a little girl as wild as Hunter and the two of them ran around for a few minutes, dancing and playing with each other’s hair. We had already decided that we were going to order a movie and let Hunter go to bed when she wanted to that night. So just after we started to watch “Iron Man”, Hunter asked to go to bed. Go figure.
On Saturday morning, we checked out of the hotel and went to the San Diego Zoo. Saw quite a few animals, including the world famous pandas, but Hunter’s favorites were the miniature horses and the sea otters. (She didn’t react nearly the same way to the otters swimming at her as the walruses…)
The zoo was fairly crowded and after a couple of hours we understood why our parents always preferred to take us to the Wild Animal Park when we were kids. Pretty much all of the zoo is on one hill or another, and they have these buses running on the same paths as the pedestrians, so even if you were inclined to walk, you found yourself breathing fumes more often than not. Zoos are a little hit and miss too, because odds are, half the animals won’t even be out where they can be seen. Of course, the petting zoo is always open…
Mommy had a bit of a meltdown pretty early in the day when two fat kids cut in front of her at the hippo exhibit and tried to pretend that she wasn’t asking them to let her pass with the stroller, even though she was bouncing it off their ankles. After a bit of an attitude adjustment and a new plan of not trying to get anywhere near the animals in any exhibit, things went better. We didn’t see everything, but, well, Hunter won’t remember it anyway. Ha.
We were home by three o’clock, and, quite happy to be so. There truly is no place like home.
Once again we have returned, a day early, from a “vacation” with our one-year-old. The thing that Michael and I have learned from three successive attempts at “vacationing” with our one-year-old is that there is no such thing as a vacation with a one-year-old.
Michael and I aren’t stupid, but, it turns out that we are rather ridiculously optimistic about what we can and cannot accomplish with our child. Not to say that we didn’t have any fun, because we did. But, we also didn’t see a sunset, enjoy a leisurely meal, or have any success getting our daughter to go to sleep at the usual bed time.
Some highlights:
Day 1
Arrive at the historic Hotel Del Coronado to find that our non-ocean view room meant our view would be of the service entrance. Within an hour of arrival, Hunter wipes out spectacularly on the concrete in front of the shopping area and bloodies her lip. Our child who never cries when she falls down and gets hurt, proceeds to wail, but, cries for less time than her lip bleeds.
We continue our walk down to the beach because as soon as Hunter sees the water she breaks away from us, ducks under the chain with the sign reading “Please Stay off the Grass”, and bolts across the field toward the ocean. Turns out she loves the sand, and, I didn’t bring the camera. When we arrive at the water’s edge, we coax Hunter into dipping her toes in the sea, not realizing that within minutes, she will be throwing herself into the water. I cannot believe I did not bring the camera.
Later that evening, after a dinner of $18.00 cheeseburgers (and, yes, they may have just been worth it…), we walked along the path between the edge of the resort and the sand. As we’re walking, we come across another family walking with their three-year-old son riding in an umbrella stroller. Hunter crosses to the stroller, proceeds to take it from the boy’s mother, and carries on pushing the boy down the path. The boys’ father snaps pictures, and we have to remove Hunter, amid strenuous protests, from the helm of the stroller.
We put Hunter to bed at 7:30pm. She does not fall asleep for two hours. Michael goes out for ice cream and we enjoy dessert in our room.
Day 2
Sea World. The killer whales did not disappoint (the one above is named Ulysses, not Shamu) even though the new “Believe” show is so over produced we couldn’t believe it. (ha) Hunter liked the whales, all the clapping, and, even getting wet. She’s happy below, but, not interested in pictures.
Sea World’s new Bay of Play was a big hit, too. Hunter enjoyed the little splash zone, the rope climb, and the bounce house. While she was big enough to get into the big kid bounce house, she’s simply not coordinated enough to stand up and bounce while other kids are doing the same. So she just lay there and laughed while the kids bounced around her. Predictably, when her turn was up, she refused to leave the bounce house so her mother had to go in and get her. Hunter also had the opportunity to meet Elmo but, she chose to cling to her father instead.
At lunch, Hunter managed to beg an uneaten yogurt off the Korean tourists that were sitting next to us. They spoke no English, but laughed as our daughter tried to feed the yogurt to herself.
The best part of the day, possibly the best part of the trip happened in the Wild Arctic Experience exhibit. Hunter and her dad were standing at the glass watching the walruses swim around when a giant walrus swam right toward them. Hunter struggled against her dad trying to get away as the giant creature bore down on her, finally screaming as the walrus reached the glass and curved off toward the surface. We, and, several other people, laughed pretty hard.
Hunter with her killer whale stuffed animal. She wanted to play with it, not be bothered with more pictures.
We finished the day by taking our one-year-old to the nicest restaurant on the resort where she ate funky pasta with cheese sauce and complained bitterly about not being able to color.
She went to bed at seven. Two hours later she was asleep. Michael again went out for ice cream.
Am tired… will round out the coverage tomorrow.
We spent the weekend at Big Bear Lake with the Foytik Family at their Aunt Ruth’s cabin. Chad and I went to high school together, and, Chad, Elaine, and I were roommates for a while shortly after they were married. They have two active, hilarious kids named Zach and Rachel, and, we haven’t spent this much time together in years.
Aunt Ruth’s cabin is a rustic little structure, just a short walk from the lake on a private road and not too far from the marina and the village. We enjoyed home-cooked meals (and plenty of junk food), children who wouldn’t sleep (namely my own), and musical sleeping arrangements.
On Saturday we rented a pontoon boat and spent a couple of hours on the lake swimming and sight-seeing. Hunter has long been a fan of water, but, this weekend she learned to appreciate boats as well. She particularly enjoyed laying on the back bench with Zach and Rachel and staring into the water as we explored the lake. She liked driving the boat with her Papa too.
Sunday we went into Big Bear Village before heading home. We played skeet-ball and rode all the riding animals at the Arcade, grudgingly took pictures with “Big Bear” the Big Bear Mascot, and bought candy at the bulk candy store. We’d never actually given Hunter real candy before… (She thinks Flintstone’s vitamins are “candy”) but she sucked down a couple of gummy worms like she was afraid someone was going to take them from her.
All in all, an excellent mini-break, even if we are really looking forward to sleeping in our own beds tonight.
We are returned from our trip to the Grand Canyon, and Michael and I can’t help but ask ourselves, what were we thinking? To say nothing of the wonders of the Canyon, taking a one-year-old camping was an adventure in itself. We need a vacation from our vacation. Ha.
Some highlights:
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Hunter’s first eight-hour car ride.
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Hunter’s first campfire.
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A group of Buddhist monks were visiting the Canyon on our first day there. Michael turns to me and says, “Honey, why do monks wear safety orange?”
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Hunter standing on the rim of the Canyon, pointing out over the expanse and saying, “Whoa, rocks!”
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The guy who offered to take a picture of a group of tourists standing on the rim of the Canyon and the first thing he says to them is, “Okay, everybody, take a step back.” And they did!
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Looking up to see our daughter, who we did not know was awake one morning, standing in the little wood between our tent and the picnic area in her pajamas wearing one shoe and holding the other as she came to find us.
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Hunter’s first bus ride. (She freaking loved the bus…)
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Hunter’s first campfire program. The somber park ranger giving a talk on the history of the United States, while Hunter spots a kid in front of her eating an apple. She says at the top of her voice, “I want apple.” The little boy afraid Hunter was going to take his apple. (Thank you for an excuse to leave before we nod off…)
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Taking our one-year-old to an IMAX film of the Grand Canyon and having her jump and cling to her father every time the shot was “flying” or the sound was too loud. She couldn’t look away for long, though, she might miss something.
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The biggest deer we’d ever seen grazing behind out campsite.
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Hunter’s second eight-hour car ride. Ha.
All in all, a good trip… one we’re not sure we want to make again, any time soon.
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