Happy Camper

I have often commented that my weekends in the country are like summer camp for grown-ups. Activities abound: trail run in the morning, tennis after lunch, bike ride before dinner and then dinner which is definitely better than standard camp fare if only because the canteens are filled with wine and cheetah-ritas! Well, this past weekend was my first real country visit in quite some time. The weather was perfect and we spent nearly the entire weekend outside. There was much anticipation for the first bike ride of the season. Lynnie got a bike last summer (a Specialized designed for a racer but remarkably well-suited for a .... Lynnie. See the Blue Bullet in action above).

The family pelaton assembled for the inaugural ride, banding together as Team Pathetic for summer 2010 racing. The belly-aching began before the first foot hit the pedal, excuses were laid out before the helmets were buckled, and the slow-pedaling commenced as soon as the downward coast out of the driveway ended. In case you are wondering, the answer is "yes" I do sometimes feel like Michael Jordan playing a pick-up game during these rides, what with my lightning speed and all. See Nancy looking victorious after launching the speed assault on wheels that is Team Pathetic.



The ride was great and was followed by a delicious dinner. Given the persistence of my quasi-vegetarianism, Rafa got to eat my helping of lamb. And it wouldn't have been a holiday without a Wong. This time Cousin Amanda was the lucky recipient, so glad she doesn't have one arm.

PS I hope you all enjoy the freshened up layout... I would have liked something a little snazzier but it turns out blogger really doesn't give you much to choose from!

It's the End of The World as We Know It

Snowpocolyse, Snowmaggedon, and today: Snowzilla vs. Flakenstein Grudgematch. The mid-atlantic region has recently looked a lot like Alaska (if only Rafa could pull a sled) with record breaking snowfalls blanketing the area. Aside from taking Rafa for snow romps, I was left with a LOT of time to fill this weekend. I have mentioned before that TV sometimes struggles to hold my attention (exceptions of course for Glee, The Wire, Real Housewives of NJ) and now a new unlikely TV hero has arrived to rescue me from hours of snowbound boredom: Patty Stanger. That's right, my friends at Bravo have brought me a little present in the form of The Millionaire Matchmaker. One episode and I was HOOKED. From "sex-toy dave" to the botox ridden "superficial bitch" the entertainment just doesn't stop.

We are supposed to get another 12-18 inches of snow, and while I could spend the snowday saving our schools I will instead be praying for a Millionaire Matchmaker Snowmathon.

Edited to add: I was so caught up in relaying my love of Millionaire Matchmaker that I forgot to tell you all about Rafa's future as a search and rescue dog. Rafa's nose is second to none, he can sniff out the dog park and discarded chicken wings from a block away. During our wintry walk on Saturday, he was burrowing his little snout into a three-foot snowbank with purpose! I commented to my walking companion that he clearly had the makings for a search and rescue dog, and all this without ANY training. After nearly a minute of determined pursuit, Rafa resurfaced with his rescue: a raw, semi-frozen chicken cutlet. So provided the would-be victims of the next natural disaster strap themselves with raw poultry before being buried alive by rubble....Rafa to the Rescue!!!

Suave Tigre!

On Day 1 of our Costa Rican adventure I set out with my Aunt, Uncle and two cousins to Playa del Oro, a remote beach on the pacific coast of costa rica. This was not a beach like Miami, Cancun, or even the Jersey Shore where the sand is packed with groups of people each producing their own symphony of sound. The silence on the beach was blissful and precisely the reason we had flown five hours and driven 2 hours on dirt roads to get here. There were no boom boxes or obnoxiously loud sun bathers; just the sound of the waves and the muted noises of the few other people on the beach. As for the others on the beach…this was a local spot, we were the only Americans on this plot of sand. A fact immediately understood just by glancing in our direction.

My aunt and uncle had toted two beach chairs down from my father's house. Not the kind of beach chairs with the various stages of recline and relaxation but rather the short, stout, and stiff variety. The little squat chairs that put your butt approximately a half an inch off the sand and are favored by unnaturally tanned, older women who like to bring them to the water's edge so that they may read their romance novels while the ebb and flow of the sea keeps them cool. There they sat perched upon their striped chairs, he wearing a shirt designed to keep one's base layer dry when performing daunting physical activities like climbing K2 or making breakfast. They also work well at protecting one's winter white body from the beating Costa Rican sun. My aunt employed a more classic technique and was but a stick figure beneath a sun dress, a towel draped across her legs, a baseball hat and sunglasses.

I don't know if the books they were reading were boring or they grew tired of watching the waves roll in, but they mutually decided on an impromptu Spanish lesson. And out came the Spanish to English dictionary and the Latin American Phrase Book. The latter quickly became the preferred text and as I drifted in out of awareness from reading my book I could hear the murmurs of mangled Spanish followed immediately by cackles and giggles. I paid closer attention as the impaired declaration of Spanish phrases grew louder. As any born entertainer would, my aunt and uncle sensed the interest growing from my cousins and me and began to play to the crowd. Before long they were shouting these Spanish phrases and I was no longer paying any attention to my book. Because, really, whatever I was reading was not nearly as engaging as the screams of "mas rapido! mas duro! mas lento! suave!" (faster! harder! slower! softer!)

My uncle had stumbled upon the chapter dedicated to pillow talk (conveniently located after the chapters on "in the bar" and "pick-up lines") in the phrase book and he and my aunt were now effectively holding a public audition for a Latino porn. When my uncle offered "Queres entrar un rato? (Do you want to come inside for awhile?) My aunt demured "No lo voy a hacer sin protecction" (I won't do it without protections). When my uncle persisted " Vamos a la cama" (Let's go to bed). My aunt shut him down with "Suave Tigre!" (Eaaasy Tiger).

Just another day of family fun time at the beach!

A Less Good Morning America

Each morning, after a dog walk and shower I sit down to eat my oatmeal, drink a cup of coffee, and watch a little morning TV. It is a time for Rafa and I to discuss what we have on the day's agenda and catch up on current events and the weather. For a long time my morning TV of choice was the Today show on NBC. I like Matt Lauer, LOVE Meredith Vierra, and Ann and Al don't offend me too much. But what I realized after a while of watching Today every morning is that 98% of the show is spent talking about "what's up right after the break" and about 2% of the show is spent on actual segments. You don't really notice at first, it's easy to get lost in the casual banter between Matt and Mer. But when you only have 12 minutes to watch and are actually interested in seeing the segment they were talking about when you first tuned in...you f-ing notice that they don't ever get to it!

My frustration grew and grew until I finally did it. I switched to GMA. I loved Dianne Sawyer's good looks and easy way with the guests. I was developing a small but growing crush on Chris Cuomo, and I knew it was time to get ready for work when that insufferable d-bag Sam Champion comes on...the show is not without its imperfections. But just as I was settling into my new routine and new friends at GMA they totally changed everything!

I tuned in on Monday to see hat instead of a lovely, blonde Sawyers next to Robin there was this little elfin creature. Mr. Stephanopoulos looks like a child sitting on that couch and I would not be the least bit surprised if his feet don't touch the ground. And at the news desk instead of the handsome Mr. Cuomo there is this lady named Ju Ju who Robin called Choo Choo (like a train) at one point. No one can possibly like this new arrangement.

I don't know what I am going to do.

1 and 1

Last weekend was one of cinematic discovery for me, filled with highs and lows. Friday night I saw the much anticipated (by me) Sandra Bullock movie: The Blind Side. Now, I knew very little about the premise of this movie going into it, but I knew all I needed to. I, for example, knew that I cried tears of joy during the trailer for it (always a promising sign). My desire to see it was further strengthened after reading this from my old buddy A.O Scott at the NYTimes: " a movie made up almost entirely of turning points and yet curiously devoid of drama or suspense...(the film) plays this story straight down the middle, shedding nuance and complication in favor of maximum uplift." Ummm...Sold! Say no more. If I could only use one word to describe this precious little gem of a movie it would be: amazing (speaking of Precious...this movie almost erased any remaining horror and misery I had from see THAT movie). Sandra Bullock gave a spot-on performance as a wealthy, southern lady (a character I know a little something about. Hi Nashville friends!!!!) Combine her sassy ways with a heartwarming underdog story and you have the sleeper hit of the holiday season and my new favorite NFL Team: So long Eagles helllllllllloooo Ravens. Bravo!!!!

This, though, was just the beginning of my weekend o' movies. Fast forward to Sunday and I had plans to see the George Clooney pic: Up In the Air. This movie was playing at the Ritz which makes me hesitant from the get go...but I love me some Clooney. Further adding to my hesitation was the glowing review from Manohla Dargis who by most accounts appears to hate going to the movies. This hater of the rom-com and I do not tend to see eye to eye on what makes a great movie but I carried on with my plans knowing at least that there would be a yummy dinner waiting for me after the movie. Well, there I am in the theatre, freezing, but reeeally enjoying this movie. But something was afoot. I had an uneasy feeling throughout all of Clooney's high-flying adventures. Something told me that this movie was too pleasant and fun to watch for that snob Dargis to enjoy. And then....I understood. I don't want to spoil it for anyone but I wished I had just gone to see the Blind Side again. I just don't understand why Clooney is capable of Ocean's 11 and One Fine Day but continues to make drivel like this.

Foxy's Tale

After reading the outrage of my many fans I added to Annie's Christmas Book list. Thanks to the wonder of one-click at Amazon...Foxy's Tale should be arriving at my house in 4-7 days. Ed and Kelly, I would like some sort of commemorative champagne flute for my contribution to the White Wedding Fund.

Carly Pumpkin Christmas

As always, Thanksgiving was followed this year by a day of Candy House making. After last year's syscrapers of conspicuous consumption, we returned this year to simpler themes and more modest construction. Alex and I crafted a truly a classic red and green themed home with nod to Hanukkah ( a blue and white sky light).

We assembled the masterpiece in record time through careful planning, strategy, and cooperative execution. Really though, the house speaks for itself.

I have also gotten a headstart on this year's Christmas shopping. I will be heading to Costa Rica the day after Christmas this year and plan to arrive with a bag full of presents for Baby Annie. So far she is getting books. A few books I loved: Shel Silverstein, Where the Wild Things Are, and a new sure-to-be- classic, Nubs.

I heard about Nubs a few weeks ago on the Today show and started crying into my oatmeal at the heartwarming story of friendship, determination, and loyalty. It is based on the true story of a Marine and a dog he befriended while on duty in Iraq. The marine and the dog, Nubs, formed a special friendship during his stay in Iraq and when the Marine got reassigned to the Jordani border, little Nubs followed the trail of the convoy some 70 miles and 3 days to be reunited with his soldier buddy. Crying a little bit as I type that.

Despite Annie confessing a desire to make "dog soup" she really does love animals, especially canines, and I think she will really like this book!!