Ahhh, Vacation

daphne on July 13, 2011

There’s nothing like it.

The crisp scent of ammonia in the morning.

The precious squeak of white shoes on linoleum.

The fluorescent lights and the beeping machines.  Nothing says vacation like the emergency room.

And this year, instead of wasting time with pedestrian trappings like sand castles or sailboats we simply unloaded the suitcases and the children and were on our way.

If you remember Jack Nickolson in Something’s Gotta Give,

then you’ve got a pretty good idea of how our first few nights at the beach went down.

We loaded up for the big road trip as planned, last Tuesday. The only addition to the car load of snacks, bathing suits and t-shirts was a bottle of ibuprofen for Dave’s unusual fever and stomach pain.  Funny thing; his appendix, which burst somewhere between Iowa and Wisconsin, didn’t slow him down a bit.  He sill managed a week’s worth of driving, basketball, jump rope and kickball games on the road out east.

The CT Scan tech asked me if he had a high tolerance for pain.   I think he just hates the idea of missing a game.

Understandably, Dave didn’t sleep well the night of the surgery, but it was not the beeping machines or the nurses in and out of his room demanding vitals that he blamed.  No, it was the screams of “STOP HIM HE’S GOING TO JUMP!” and “SOMEONE CALL THE ER, HE’S JUMPING!” that kept him up.

Turns out that one of the druggies from detox decided he’d had enough of the cafeteria food and thought he’d sail off into the sunset instead.  Hard to blame him considering the tantalizing view from the hospital windows.

Don’t get any ideas, dear husband.  My only wish is that you mend well and come back to me and then, I promise, we will sail off into the sunset together.

And the medal goes to…

daphne on August 4, 2009

Ahhhh….Home sweet home! After 45 days away, 6,519 miles traveled, 22 states visited, 3 time zones traversed I am chomping at the bit to get back to my garden-turned-overgrown jungle.  I cannot wait to resume CSA deliveries, fresh from the farm that is promising me eggplant and peaches.  I am ready to share the myriad of garden secrets and outrageous recipes that I collected on my travels.

But first things first.

Our road trip culminated in Des Moines, Iowa, which in addition to being a balmy 78 degrees during our stay was the gracious host city for the Junior Olympics.  A number of our most avid jump rope fans have made it clear that there will be no waiting for an official post.  And so, without any further ado, the results:

Kira rocked it, jumping as high and fast as her little legs would go.  She got off the floor after most events with a smile on her face, proud of her performance, and that was all that I had hoped for.   We were awed and amazed when she placed both individually and as a pair, even scoring a silver medal for her pairs routine.

Thanks to everyone who showered Kira with support, and in so doing helped me figure out how to manage my little champ.  And now, a snapshot of Kira’s events at the 2009 Jr. Olympics…

Moving Right Along, Good Times

daphne on June 23, 2009

Well, we made it to Kansas.

We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Dorothy or the Great and Powerful Oz, but as we eased on down the road we did see something that surprised me.  And filled my heart (this is the heartland you know) with hope. Miles and miles of power generating wind mills.

We also passed a giant turtle and a buffalo mama and her baby on the side of the road, but the images, taken from my window as we zipped by, were merely blurry blobs on the shoulder of life’s great highway.

Next stop, St. Louis, where I got to visit with my college pal Jennie as we waited for our turn to go up to top of the arch.  I don’t know why, but she passed on the chance to join us on the journey in this tiny tin can of a tram.

It was cozy, in a stop the spinning pod I want to throw up kind of way.

For the record, 2 days down and no plugging in of the children into the electronic media.  Our road trip mantra:  so far, so good.  And so we press on.  Next stop: North Carolina to see our friends the Eagans. There are cows to be milked, horses that need a’ridin’, and chickens to be fed. Or something like that.

Hit the road, jack

daphne on June 19, 2009

It’s time. We are ready to hit the road, Jack.

Heck yeah we’re bringing Jack; who’d you think was going to do all the driving and the refueling and the feeding and entertaining of whining kids?  OK, not really.  It would be delightful to have imaginary handy Jack along, but it’ll just be the four of us cruising the country’s roads.   As you’ve probably guessed, I am busy teaching the girls the lyrics to such classics as I Ate a Peanut, and She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain.  It’s going to be just great.

The critics say we are crazy to attempt this trip sans electronics. Concern is so high, in fact, that I have already declined, politely, three separate offers to borrow mini-DVD players.  Last night, Dave came home from work with a loaner.  His co-workers were worried about our caveman-style approach to car time.  I remain committed to old school.  How can we sing about all those bottles falling off the wall if the children have battery-operated alternatives?

I might be wrong, so to be on the safe side I will keep my mind open and the charged DVD player in the trunk.  You know, just in case Disney is the one thing that keeps me from going completely nuts.

Speaking of nuts, there’s the issue of food on the road.  Though I deny my children all the good stuff 360+ days of the year, travel time is treat time.  I’ve been loading up a box with all the means to make the trail-crossing pleasant; we’re got nuts, yes, and trail mix heavy with m+ms and licorice whips and potato chips, and more.  If our wagon loses a wheel, I am confident that we’ll stave off starvation.

And what about the garden?  Sadly, those berries did not ripen despite my repeated requests and explanations about the tight calendar.  In the interest of research, we threw more seeds in the ground, set out a drip line, and are hoping for the best.

Here’s what’s happening now, as I callously leave my fresh fruit and veggies behind in the dirt and ply my children with sugar instead:

After the first round of sprouts keeled over, I tried again for cucumbers.  Here they are, just poking up through the earth–

Dave apparently had a similar thought, so he went right ahead and dug in a baby tomato. Right on top of my squash.  See what happens when spouses don’t communicate?   It will be a fierce battle (but seeing as my squash has all her sisters and she, I don’t think his puny tomato has much of a chance.)  Only time will tell which veggie will prevail (Go squash Go!)

The potatoes trees are out of control.  What?  You didn’t know that potatoes grow on trees?  Perhaps you’ve heard otherwise, but then how do you explain this–

It’s a potato jungle out there.

We won’t be here to see all the changes in the garden over the next six weeks, but we did get to witness one marked change this week.  Ahh, Acadia.  What would a vacation be without a stopover first for some xrays?

Here she is at the beginning of the week, the happy-as-a-clam swimming cowgirl.

And here she is yesterday, noticeably sadder.

Her boldly attempted ceiling-slap-from-high-leap off the bed resulted not in a gold medal, but in a hairline fracture in her foot.  Kids!  Aren’t they a kick in the pants?

It’s diet time

daphne on April 12, 2009

It’s time for the Bieners to get leaner.  Don’t get me wrong. We’re not doing anything crazy like cutting down on ice cream sundaes or our regular chocolatey indulgences. No, I’m talking about a different kind of slimming down. I’m talking carbon diet.

You know? Carbon diet.  As in — does this road trip make my footprint look fat?

Thing is, we’ve decided to take a big old road trip this summer.  Wagons east, loading up the car, stuffing it full of luggage, kids and gasoline.  The kids and the suitcases I can manage; it’s all that fossil fuel that’s making me feel guilty.

We make this trip each year, but there’s something about standing and pumping that gasoline every 6 hours or so for days on end that makes it feel like more of a carbon splurge than the jet fuel we usually consume on this bit of travel.  I’m feeling the need to assuage some of my guilt before we hit the road.

So I hit the internet.  There are loads of dietary options floating around on the internet.

We could go meat-free for a couple of months.   Studies reveal that one kilogram of beef is responsible for more greenhouse gas emissions and other pollution than driving for 3 hours while leaving all the lights on back home.

Speaking of lights, we could take a cue from Earth Hour and sit around in the dark a little more often. Or, once summer hits we could forgo turning on the air conditioning, and just rely on that old fashioned evening breeze.  I could cut down my 36 weekly trips to get groceries to just one car ride a week to the store.  That sounds delightful. In fact, I’m pledging right here, right now to make that one a reality.  So what if my family eats pancakes for dinner every now and then?  At least I finally learned to make them the right way.

So many worthy ideas, and yet all options paled in comparison once I happened upon the perfect solution to our proposed carbon diet: chocolate!  As in climate change chocolate. Each bar comes with an offset of 133 carbon dioxide reductions, which is roughly the size of the average American daily footprint.  Also, the recycled wrappers are coated in clever tips to help us tread more lightly upon our planet.

All I need is a moment to crunch the numbers. Let’s see:

  • 4 people in our happy little family
  • 1600 miles to go
  • One 1999 Subaru getting approximately 26 miles/gallon

Ok then. Assuming my calculations are correct, and adjusting for varying wind velocity, I’ll need to eat about 5,893 candy bars to make peace with the world.

It’s a small price to pay.  I think this diet and I are going to be great friends.