by Lizzy:
"Mom, I really want to have a baby brother or sister.
"Either that, or two cats."
Monday, October 22, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
curb your generosity
Isn't it fun when life imitates art? Except when it's not.
Consider this clip. I'm told that this guy, L@rry Dav1d, was the basis for the George character on Se1nfeld.
Yesterday, a woman with whom Matt works fairly closely posted a sign-up sheet for a fund-raiser on her office door.
Matt thinks, well, I'd like to contribute a little. It's all I feel I can do right now. I wish I could do more. Another time, perhaps.
He sees that two or three people have already signed up, and one of those people pledged ten dollars. He thinks, okay. I can do ten dollars. I have it right here, in my pocket.
He writes down his name, and his donation amount, as the two or three others have done on the list above him. He goes on about his business.
A little while later, he's walking past the list, and he glances at it to see if any more donations have been made. Below his name:
-------NAME ------------------------- DONATION
---------X ---------------------------- $100
Matt is horrified. WHAT?! An anonymous donation?! He wasn't donating for glory or fame! He didn't know he could slip a donation in there without putting his name on there! Now he feels like a total chump.
As the day progresses, more and more people sign up to donate. All anonymously.
Matt's is the last actual name on the list.
He'd like to cross it out, but figures that would look even dumber.
I'm thinking, any day in which you in any way resemble George Costanza is just not the best of days.
Consider this clip. I'm told that this guy, L@rry Dav1d, was the basis for the George character on Se1nfeld.
Yesterday, a woman with whom Matt works fairly closely posted a sign-up sheet for a fund-raiser on her office door.
Matt thinks, well, I'd like to contribute a little. It's all I feel I can do right now. I wish I could do more. Another time, perhaps.
He sees that two or three people have already signed up, and one of those people pledged ten dollars. He thinks, okay. I can do ten dollars. I have it right here, in my pocket.
He writes down his name, and his donation amount, as the two or three others have done on the list above him. He goes on about his business.
A little while later, he's walking past the list, and he glances at it to see if any more donations have been made. Below his name:
-------NAME ------------------------- DONATION
---------X ---------------------------- $100
Matt is horrified. WHAT?! An anonymous donation?! He wasn't donating for glory or fame! He didn't know he could slip a donation in there without putting his name on there! Now he feels like a total chump.
As the day progresses, more and more people sign up to donate. All anonymously.
Matt's is the last actual name on the list.
He'd like to cross it out, but figures that would look even dumber.
I'm thinking, any day in which you in any way resemble George Costanza is just not the best of days.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
lunch
I had an all-too-rare treat today -- lunch with three old friends.
Friends who weren't TOO old -- not so old that I hadn't seen or talked to them in years, and had no earthly idea what they were up to. Whom I have zero in common with any more, but for the sake of our friendship, we attempted once more to meet up, since space and time were for some random reason in favor of it. (Michele, Jennifer, and any other old friends I've seen in the past year or two, this is not you guys. More of a hypothetical, really.)
But friends that weren't too new, either -- who don't really know much more about me than strictly my current situation in life. Those newer friendships are precious, too (insert old Girl Scout song here about silver and gold), but not quite what happened today.
It's scary how close in proximity I can work, or in some cases, live, to people who are very dear to me - and generally, everyone has e-mail, anyway -- and yet, friendships just go on hiatus sometimes. It's inevitable, I suppose. I remember talking to friends once about how many friendships it's reasonably possible to sustain and keep healthy at any given time. I don't remember what the number was. A dozen? Ten to twenty? It was fewer than I cared to hear, yet I knew it was probably pretty accurate.
I've been going through a weird inner tug of war lately. Really, since I got pregnant with Lizzy. But it feels like it's taken a different cast in recent months. I want to get together with friends and let those friendships grow, but it's so hard. So hard. The commute sucks up so much of the day. And Lizzy's at an age where she's so much fun, and relatively little, um, maintenance, that I no longer, uh, well, fantasize about, er, totally ditching my family for the day or evening. It's much more of a trade-off these days than a sought-after pleasure. And I'll be darned if I want to get into the car on the weekends, even for the sake of seeing a good old friend. Like I said, it's a tug of war.
I've just kinda felt like giving up recently. I'm not sure why. And that won't last. Like most else, it's an ebb and a flow. I guess I'm in an ebb, for whatever reason.
Anyway, back to my old (but not TOO old) friends. What fun to have lunch with Erin/Dotty, Amy B., and Laura K. today. Two of whom I work 15 minutes or less from (their offices). Ridiculous.
It's hard to feed all these parts of our lives. And so, it was with great pleasure that we were able to feed our bodies while we fed our need for social girliness with old buddies, as well.
Thanks, ladies. Love to you, and to those old friends whom I very rarely get to see, but I think about often. Who reminded me how powerful and vital and healthy it is to have girlfriends. For too many years (before I moved to D.C. and met you), I had forgotten that.
Friends who weren't TOO old -- not so old that I hadn't seen or talked to them in years, and had no earthly idea what they were up to. Whom I have zero in common with any more, but for the sake of our friendship, we attempted once more to meet up, since space and time were for some random reason in favor of it. (Michele, Jennifer, and any other old friends I've seen in the past year or two, this is not you guys. More of a hypothetical, really.)
But friends that weren't too new, either -- who don't really know much more about me than strictly my current situation in life. Those newer friendships are precious, too (insert old Girl Scout song here about silver and gold), but not quite what happened today.
It's scary how close in proximity I can work, or in some cases, live, to people who are very dear to me - and generally, everyone has e-mail, anyway -- and yet, friendships just go on hiatus sometimes. It's inevitable, I suppose. I remember talking to friends once about how many friendships it's reasonably possible to sustain and keep healthy at any given time. I don't remember what the number was. A dozen? Ten to twenty? It was fewer than I cared to hear, yet I knew it was probably pretty accurate.
I've been going through a weird inner tug of war lately. Really, since I got pregnant with Lizzy. But it feels like it's taken a different cast in recent months. I want to get together with friends and let those friendships grow, but it's so hard. So hard. The commute sucks up so much of the day. And Lizzy's at an age where she's so much fun, and relatively little, um, maintenance, that I no longer, uh, well, fantasize about, er, totally ditching my family for the day or evening. It's much more of a trade-off these days than a sought-after pleasure. And I'll be darned if I want to get into the car on the weekends, even for the sake of seeing a good old friend. Like I said, it's a tug of war.
I've just kinda felt like giving up recently. I'm not sure why. And that won't last. Like most else, it's an ebb and a flow. I guess I'm in an ebb, for whatever reason.
Anyway, back to my old (but not TOO old) friends. What fun to have lunch with Erin/Dotty, Amy B., and Laura K. today. Two of whom I work 15 minutes or less from (their offices). Ridiculous.
It's hard to feed all these parts of our lives. And so, it was with great pleasure that we were able to feed our bodies while we fed our need for social girliness with old buddies, as well.
Thanks, ladies. Love to you, and to those old friends whom I very rarely get to see, but I think about often. Who reminded me how powerful and vital and healthy it is to have girlfriends. For too many years (before I moved to D.C. and met you), I had forgotten that.
Monday, October 15, 2007
the day (so far)
Random notes:
Lizzy didn't want to wear brown pants, "today or EVER!", because she thought it would make her "look like a boy." (horrors!) Recently, we borrowed some blue jammies from our friends down the street (I'll get 'em back to you eventually, Dee!), and she looked so darn cute, it was insane. But I'm having a hard time translating the "sometimes, boy clothes make you look even more girly!" principle of overalls/dressing as a baseball player for Halloween concept to almost-5-year-old language.
Speaking of: Last night, I stayed up late filling out birthday invites for Lizzy's pool party next month. Whew! Now we're COMMITTED to doing it. In some ways, it feels scarier than sending out the wedding invites. It's the first event of any size I've attempted since the wedding, and it's giving me hives, a little. What if it all goes horribly wrong? Well, then a bunch of parents grumble, and go home. We're out a few hundred bucks. Oh, well. Man, have I mentioned how I NEVER write any more? With my hand, I mean? No wonder my shoulders are all hunched and sore today.
Thirdly, and most importantly: After a freekin' year, Matt's company was informed that the government is indeed picking up their contract. He will have a job (barring other disasters, of course -- what's the online equivalent of knocking on wood?) for four more years! HALLELUJAH.
(so, God -- is it a good month to grant the fertility prayers? That's my vote, if I get one.)
Lizzy didn't want to wear brown pants, "today or EVER!", because she thought it would make her "look like a boy." (horrors!) Recently, we borrowed some blue jammies from our friends down the street (I'll get 'em back to you eventually, Dee!), and she looked so darn cute, it was insane. But I'm having a hard time translating the "sometimes, boy clothes make you look even more girly!" principle of overalls/dressing as a baseball player for Halloween concept to almost-5-year-old language.
Speaking of: Last night, I stayed up late filling out birthday invites for Lizzy's pool party next month. Whew! Now we're COMMITTED to doing it. In some ways, it feels scarier than sending out the wedding invites. It's the first event of any size I've attempted since the wedding, and it's giving me hives, a little. What if it all goes horribly wrong? Well, then a bunch of parents grumble, and go home. We're out a few hundred bucks. Oh, well. Man, have I mentioned how I NEVER write any more? With my hand, I mean? No wonder my shoulders are all hunched and sore today.
Thirdly, and most importantly: After a freekin' year, Matt's company was informed that the government is indeed picking up their contract. He will have a job (barring other disasters, of course -- what's the online equivalent of knocking on wood?) for four more years! HALLELUJAH.
(so, God -- is it a good month to grant the fertility prayers? That's my vote, if I get one.)
Thursday, October 11, 2007
practice?
We did a few things this past weekend! You wouldn't know it from my apparent need to complain on the blog about things that don't matter, but seriously -- we did. It's just that the photo-heavy entries require time, or at least some furtiveness at work, to compile. I apologize for my timeline-busting entries here.
We inherited a small boy for a few hours on Saturday -- our buddy Kieran from church. This was fun for two reasons: We got to spend some quality time with him, instead of sort of wrestling him and six or so other small kids in a hallway during church kid care; and we got to see how Lizzy reacted to having one younger one around in the context of just our family at home.
I couldn't believe how grown up he is these days! This newly minted little 2-year-old was chattering away, and so well-behaved. His parents should be proud. I hope they don't mind that we totally used him for free labor as we worked on the yard:
We inherited a small boy for a few hours on Saturday -- our buddy Kieran from church. This was fun for two reasons: We got to spend some quality time with him, instead of sort of wrestling him and six or so other small kids in a hallway during church kid care; and we got to see how Lizzy reacted to having one younger one around in the context of just our family at home.
I couldn't believe how grown up he is these days! This newly minted little 2-year-old was chattering away, and so well-behaved. His parents should be proud. I hope they don't mind that we totally used him for free labor as we worked on the yard:
Lizzy's learned how to make even dead leaves into a posing accessory:
Lovin' the yardwork help.
Lizzy said a few times, "Kieran's such a good baby!" Which, predictably, Kieran didn't care for. "I'm not a baby!" he would assert. "Wow," says Lizzy. "He can talk pretty well!" I was feeling bad for Kieran about then. But they did play nicely, and shared pretty well. It made Matt and me hope for things that haven't seen to manifest yet.
The cute-as-heck kid wheelbarrow that they both got a kick out of using:
One of the things I love about other kids coming over is that Lizzy is reminded how many very cool toys she has. Many of which are ignored until that very moment. I was guilty of this as a kid, as well -- I don't think my brother and I played much Atari until our cousins came over. Then it was wall-to-wall Atari until they left, or so it felt! I miss Breakout -- sigh.
Back to Kieran. He reminded us that we have a functional, fun train table at our disposal!
And now, finally. Last, but as I'm sure you'll agree, certainly not least -- a photo I'd like to dedicate to Kieran's father, Ken:
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
This time, Starbucks, you've gone a bit too far
This morning's new discovery: A broccoli and cheese scone.
Can anyone say, ewwww?
It won't last two weeks. And, hey, Starbucks, when you do get rid of it -- could you bring back that five-fruit muffin that you got me hooked on awhile back, then snatched from under my nose? I never knew how yummy apricot could be in a muffin, and I haven't seen it since.
Thanks.
(I still love you, though.)
seen last night
I hate protests. They mess up my daily life. Traffic is often rerouted; the peace of my walk around the block near my office is sometimes disrupted; metros near my workplace are flooded with well-meaning do-gooders. I picture them having come from all corners of the country -- sometimes beyond, rubbing their hands together with glee at how they're going to go to D.C. and be HEARD! Make a differencE! Just like last weekend's protesters, and the weekends leading up to that ... But I bear them no ill will. Go shout your message, protesters. Hope for change. Change can be good. Enjoy yourselves. Just know that your pleasure in the moment and camaraderie might be all you actually achieve from the experience.
Our family has to go out of its way to accomplish certain errands. Since we generally hit the doorstep at about 7:15, this means an arrival home of an even later magnitude. Generally meaning we're eating out that night, an act we can't afford, and sacrificing other things we might reasonably do with what's left of our modest weeknight evening.
So it was with great displeasure that we saw the following last night:
Note the signs on the windows, darkened during what should be business hours. What do they say?
The misspelling is merely insult on top of injury.
Well, okay. Touche. You got me. Point taken. You might have made me mad, but you've at least got my attention. I did stop for a few seconds and consider your situation. So, bravo.
We drowned our sorrows in the one (aforementioned) place we knew would not be affected by the protest.
Our family has to go out of its way to accomplish certain errands. Since we generally hit the doorstep at about 7:15, this means an arrival home of an even later magnitude. Generally meaning we're eating out that night, an act we can't afford, and sacrificing other things we might reasonably do with what's left of our modest weeknight evening.
So it was with great displeasure that we saw the following last night:
Note the signs on the windows, darkened during what should be business hours. What do they say?
The misspelling is merely insult on top of injury.
Well, okay. Touche. You got me. Point taken. You might have made me mad, but you've at least got my attention. I did stop for a few seconds and consider your situation. So, bravo.
We drowned our sorrows in the one (aforementioned) place we knew would not be affected by the protest.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
sometimes, I'm dumb
Wow! I just realized something. We never registered our phone on the National Do Not Call List!
That might explain the many, many unlisted calls that we are unfortunate enough to receive. We must've been one of three phone numbers in the U.S. that remained unregistered.
Well, now it's only two. Sorry, guys! Good luck with all the siding and time-share salesmen. Don't say hi for me.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
... but who's counting
Number of vehicles in our driveway these days: 3.
Number of vehicles that it would be possible to fit on the street outside our home, even if we wanted to: 0.
Number of mailboxes to bite the dust this week in someone's vain attempt not to hit other vehicles lining the driveway while reversing out of said driveway: 1.
Sigh.
Number of vehicles that it would be possible to fit on the street outside our home, even if we wanted to: 0.
Number of mailboxes to bite the dust this week in someone's vain attempt not to hit other vehicles lining the driveway while reversing out of said driveway: 1.
Sigh.
if wishes were fishes ...
I'd see my high school friends a lot more often.
Here are a couple of photos that my dear friend (and bridesmaid!) Lisa just sent.
At the time(s) these friendly gatherings of folks were being planned, I thought, "Yeah, right, I'm going to fly myself and possibly my family over to Seattle for this! C'mon! What am I, made of money and vacation time?"
Now I kinda wish I had. Some opportunities just don't come along very often.
It's hard to know in the moment which opportunities to take hold of, and which to regretfully let pass me by. I'm trying to take the 'opportunity' to not add to my mountain of debt, but ... as a certain pithy credit-card ad campaign (irony alert!) reminds us, some things are priceless.
Some of my friends, and their hubbies, and their kids:
And some of the friends by themselves.
I hope none of them get mad that I put these on the internet. Sorry, gals!
Here are a couple of photos that my dear friend (and bridesmaid!) Lisa just sent.
At the time(s) these friendly gatherings of folks were being planned, I thought, "Yeah, right, I'm going to fly myself and possibly my family over to Seattle for this! C'mon! What am I, made of money and vacation time?"
Now I kinda wish I had. Some opportunities just don't come along very often.
It's hard to know in the moment which opportunities to take hold of, and which to regretfully let pass me by. I'm trying to take the 'opportunity' to not add to my mountain of debt, but ... as a certain pithy credit-card ad campaign (irony alert!) reminds us, some things are priceless.
Some of my friends, and their hubbies, and their kids:
And some of the friends by themselves.
I hope none of them get mad that I put these on the internet. Sorry, gals!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
corporate shill
You all know I'm Starbucks' biggest unpaid fan. Well, except for those dudes who have attempted to visit every Starbucks in the country. How would you define that, anyway? Isn't one opened every 23 minutes, or something? (random and silly speculation) The never-ending quest ... Not for me.
This morning was funny, because we stopped at Dunkin Donuts -- we do so generally one weekday a week -- but they take only cash, and "we" (which means Matt) had only six bucks (I personally had about 11 pennies). I skipped the usual coffee, thinking that I'd get a tasty DD muffin then, and grab a 'Bux coffee later.
I'm glad I did! The cashier handed me a card for a -- you will NOT believe this, unless you're Jen Way and you work there -- FREE iTUNES DOWNLOAD! Just for buying a cup of coffee that day! It was for some Bob Dylan song that I probably won't even like, but my point is, what a totally awesome concept. The thing that really blew my mind is that the guy told me there'd be a different song download available if I come back the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Through November 7th, I see on their Web site.
I heart Starbucks. They are the best.
Speaking of Starbucks: Last week, I went into one of my usual two stores on 14th Ave., and was enthusiastically greeted by the cashier. "Do you remember me?" she said, treating me (as well as she could from behind the counter) as a long-lost friend. And as she said that, I did remember her. She looked familiar right away, but then I realized that she was a lady who used to ring me up at Magruder's grocery store, in Cleveland Park. When I lived there six years ago! I was mighty impressed with both of us, that we remembered each other.
Perhaps it's not over the line now to ask what her name is. That might be a nice next step.
today's pet peeves
1) Computer systems that don't work, one day before your deadline. (believe it or not, a computer that didn't work on the day of my deadline would be preferable.)
2) People who request personal information, then sail off without telling me why they wanted it.
Even better: "It's for the company newsletter." Say WHAT?
"What, the list of folks who are soon to be fired?" I 'joked.'
Hm. She didn't say 'no'.
2) People who request personal information, then sail off without telling me why they wanted it.
Even better: "It's for the company newsletter." Say WHAT?
"What, the list of folks who are soon to be fired?" I 'joked.'
Hm. She didn't say 'no'.
Monday, October 01, 2007
happy anniversary, on the time-share dime
We had such a great family weekend at the time-share community.
We didn’t really know what to expect, aside from some sort of cheesy, high-pressure sales pitch (and boy, we were not disappointed), but the place was beautiful, we had family-style activities galore to choose from, and we thoroughly enjoyed getting away as a family. The experience has shown us something that Matt and I have been realizing for some time – we don’t do enough as a family. Aside from commuting, it goes without saying. Usually, I spend my vacation time flying West to visit my brother and his family, or my parents. Worthy uses of my time, but Matt often doesn’t come with us (for reasons of expense and the fact that he has fewer vacation days). And we really miss each other when we’re away. Perhaps that shouldn’t be such a revelation. Lizzy has known this all along, I think. She tries to tell us, but we, out of senses of guilt, obligation and resignation, don't listen.
Lizzy was such a grown-up little girl. She LOVED being on vacation! Our hotel room had a fabulous view of the valley ‘bowl’ that constituted much of the time-share acreage. We could see the ski slopes off to our right, a giant (but closed, alas) outdoor pool immediately below us, some time-share units perched along the hill near the ski slopes, and the nearest town and highway a ways off into the distance. And trees, trees, trees. That place is going to be a swirling canvas of reds, oranges, yellows and browns in about three weeks. Just beautiful.
So we endured our four-hour tour – originally billed as a 90-minute tour – by an earnest 19-year-old named Derek, whom we were sad to disappoint with our refusal to buy. We should’ve tipped the kid, or something. He was sweet. His sales pitch was slightly wobbly, but he did pretty well. Probably told us some stuff he wasn’t supposed to. He had to call in the manager eventually, of course, and Matt could barely keep a straight face, that guy was so obvious. He pulled out all the slick sales tricks. I was completely hooked by the time the final offer rolled ‘round, but the saner head prevailed (Matt’s), and we escaped without being caught. We were both almost wishing we had been, though. We could see spending at least a week up (altitude-wise), or downish/over (geographically), there a year. I'm especially intrigued by the ski slopes that it obviously wasn't possible to sample on this trip.
We played tennis twice with some spiffy new recently purchased racquets (birthday money from parents, plus great cheap racquet connection through a friend), and Lizzy’s a little natural! She loved it. She got the forehand down pretty well; the backhand will take a little work. Best, though, her attitude was great about it. We hit that sweet spot where Matt and I were loving teaching her, and she was loving the attention and the feel of improving with each swing of her kid-sized racquet. She’s now convinced she’s a terrific tennis player. We didn’t bother to correct her, much.
We also did some swimming, including an evening at the STUNNING water park. An amazing place! Expensive, too, so we were a bit cross when all Lizzy wanted to do was paddle around in the one small still pool, or play in the toddler area. She’s still freaked out by water splashing on her, or spraying in her face. Heck – this time last year, she didn’t want to get into a pool at all. So I suppose we’re making progress.
And we played Ping-Pong – it’s been awhile, since Matt’s dad’s been in the basement and our Ping-Pong table's been in the garage – and some arcade games such as Skee-ball, a cool little mini-bowling lane, air hockey and more.
We mini-golfed – Lizzy wasn’t quite as pleased with the learning curve on that one, and there were admittedly some tears – and took a few rounds on the Go-Kart track. We ate a bunch of food, of course, and Lizzy grew very fond of our daily morning waitress, Jenna. Almost best of all – we (Lizzy) watched almost NO television. Now, that’s what vacation should be about!
We didn’t really know what to expect, aside from some sort of cheesy, high-pressure sales pitch (and boy, we were not disappointed), but the place was beautiful, we had family-style activities galore to choose from, and we thoroughly enjoyed getting away as a family. The experience has shown us something that Matt and I have been realizing for some time – we don’t do enough as a family. Aside from commuting, it goes without saying. Usually, I spend my vacation time flying West to visit my brother and his family, or my parents. Worthy uses of my time, but Matt often doesn’t come with us (for reasons of expense and the fact that he has fewer vacation days). And we really miss each other when we’re away. Perhaps that shouldn’t be such a revelation. Lizzy has known this all along, I think. She tries to tell us, but we, out of senses of guilt, obligation and resignation, don't listen.
Lizzy was such a grown-up little girl. She LOVED being on vacation! Our hotel room had a fabulous view of the valley ‘bowl’ that constituted much of the time-share acreage. We could see the ski slopes off to our right, a giant (but closed, alas) outdoor pool immediately below us, some time-share units perched along the hill near the ski slopes, and the nearest town and highway a ways off into the distance. And trees, trees, trees. That place is going to be a swirling canvas of reds, oranges, yellows and browns in about three weeks. Just beautiful.
So we endured our four-hour tour – originally billed as a 90-minute tour – by an earnest 19-year-old named Derek, whom we were sad to disappoint with our refusal to buy. We should’ve tipped the kid, or something. He was sweet. His sales pitch was slightly wobbly, but he did pretty well. Probably told us some stuff he wasn’t supposed to. He had to call in the manager eventually, of course, and Matt could barely keep a straight face, that guy was so obvious. He pulled out all the slick sales tricks. I was completely hooked by the time the final offer rolled ‘round, but the saner head prevailed (Matt’s), and we escaped without being caught. We were both almost wishing we had been, though. We could see spending at least a week up (altitude-wise), or downish/over (geographically), there a year. I'm especially intrigued by the ski slopes that it obviously wasn't possible to sample on this trip.
We played tennis twice with some spiffy new recently purchased racquets (birthday money from parents, plus great cheap racquet connection through a friend), and Lizzy’s a little natural! She loved it. She got the forehand down pretty well; the backhand will take a little work. Best, though, her attitude was great about it. We hit that sweet spot where Matt and I were loving teaching her, and she was loving the attention and the feel of improving with each swing of her kid-sized racquet. She’s now convinced she’s a terrific tennis player. We didn’t bother to correct her, much.
We also did some swimming, including an evening at the STUNNING water park. An amazing place! Expensive, too, so we were a bit cross when all Lizzy wanted to do was paddle around in the one small still pool, or play in the toddler area. She’s still freaked out by water splashing on her, or spraying in her face. Heck – this time last year, she didn’t want to get into a pool at all. So I suppose we’re making progress.
And we played Ping-Pong – it’s been awhile, since Matt’s dad’s been in the basement and our Ping-Pong table's been in the garage – and some arcade games such as Skee-ball, a cool little mini-bowling lane, air hockey and more.
We mini-golfed – Lizzy wasn’t quite as pleased with the learning curve on that one, and there were admittedly some tears – and took a few rounds on the Go-Kart track. We ate a bunch of food, of course, and Lizzy grew very fond of our daily morning waitress, Jenna. Almost best of all – we (Lizzy) watched almost NO television. Now, that’s what vacation should be about!
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