Category Archives: Travel Musings

It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas!

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An array of international Santa Clauses, a giant, glowing evergreen tree, hoards of ice skaters bundled in puffy jackets, colorful scarves and a rainbow of beanies, and a cup of steaming, smooth hot chocolate all mean just one thing- Christmas is in the air!

The Christmas season, in my little world, has a definite period of time in which it fits. (Thad calls it arbitrary, but it makes perfect sense to me.) Christmastime starts the day after Thanksgiving, although I did not partake in any pre-dawn shopping madness, and continues through the end of the year. Once the turkey is devoured, the mashed potatoes have been ingested and the yams have been lovingly crammed down the kitchen sink disposal, Christmas can officially commence.

I love seeing the houses decorated in lights (although I can do without blow-up Snoopy and his cohorts in yard after yard), the malls and stores with wreaths hung and the familiar ringing of the Salvation Army bells. The all-Christmas-music-all-the-time station is officially the go-to radio station for the next four weeks.

As we spent Thanksgiving weekend in Greensburg, Pennsylvania with Thad’s dad’s side of the family, we had a chance to go in to Pittsburgh on Saturday night to officially kick off Christmas merriment.  After a great meal of hotpot at a rather authentic Chinese restaurant, we headed downtown where the city has an enormous Christmas tree lit and decorated, surrounded by an ice skating rink. The weather was great for a late November evening and we comfortably strolled through the masses awaiting their turn to take to the ice. Nearby, the windows of the office buildings were filled with gingerbread houses that local Girl Scout troops and school kids had created and built.

An attached atrium housed another gigantic tree, surrounded by even more gingerbread creations. I think the rules of the contest allowed for any edible construction materials, as graham crackers seemed to be the foundation of choice, with everything from ice cream cones to Oreos being injected into the creative process.  I do have to question the authenticity of several of the elaborate projects that assert to be from preschool-aged students, but are obviously creations of their helicopter-mothers and overly-involved, Boy Scout Troop leading fathers.

The outside edges of this elegant, glass walled/ceiling-ed area were lined with beautifully carved statues of the various images of Santa from around the world.  While I am not sure how factually accurate the stories accompanying each display were, the statues themselves gorgeously combined the romantic feel of the Christmas spirit and the culturally known aspects of each countries celebrations.   (The Chinese Santa, while correctly being called “Old Man Christmas” told a weird tale of gift giving at the holiday season that had an ancient vibe to it that just would not hold up in a history lecture.)

With the Thanksgiving carb-fest completed, all it took was a little Christmas music, a chill in the air and some twinkling lights to make me giddy for the overdose of red and green, of penguins and reindeer, of elves and Mrs. Claus and of shopping and wrapping that will occupy my free time for the next few weeks.  The Christmas season is here and I couldn’t be more thrilled!

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Bring the Rolls

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The time for a reprieve is over if you are a turkey. The rafters of turkeys have been culled. (Yes, rafter is the correct collective noun for turkeys. I checked.) Waddle-bearing heads have been severed from their skinny little bird necks and are now tucked neatly inside the gutted corpses of their previous owners, alongside a baggie containing said bird’s various and sundry innards. All of this is neatly wrapped in tight plastic covers and crammed into overflowing freezers across our great nation, along with bags of cranberries, and a variety of vegetables awaiting their day of glory. Soon kitchen cupboards will house piles of breadcrumbs, drying in preparation for their role as the much coveted stuffing. Shelves will be stacked with pie fixings and crusts, yams, rolls, green bean casserole parts, as well as the goodies that make up the dishes that are unique traditions for each family.

The internet is filled with recipe websites, explaining down to the last detail how to make sure a Thanksgiving meal goes off without a hitch.  As a fan of the starch filled goodness of Turkey Day, with years of practice participating in these annual feasts, I thought I could add my own recipe to the copious amount already floating through cyberspace.

Recipe for a Fabulous Thanksgiving Feast- Michelle Style

Ingredients:

1 bag of rolls

Directions:

1. Show up on or before the designated time for eating

2. Bring a bag (or two) of rolls

3. Haunt the kitchen as final preparations for the meal are made (Be sure to eat tasty pieces of meat right off the turkey as it is being carved and placed on the serving platter)

4. Join in the chaos of putting together a last minute seating chart, sprinkling adults between kids but trying to avoid the major splash zones created by the youngest members of the family

5. Eat. Eat seconds. Against conventional wisdom, eat thirds.

6. “Help” with clean-up by putting a few things into Tupperware containers. Sneak out of the kitchen when everyone else isn’t looking.

7. Lay on the couch/floor/loveseat in a carb-coma.

8. Eat pie, even while your brain says yes and your tummy says no.

9. Repeat step 7.

10. Cheerfully accept your annual advent calendar filled with adorable chocolate figures and a plate full of leftovers and head home, dreaming of the turkey sandwiches which will be lunch tomorrow.

This year we will not be enjoying the abundance provided by several Thanksgiving dinners as we have in Idaho in years past, but our feast will not be without family.  As of tonight, the mouth count for dinner with Thad’s family in Pennsylvania is seventeen. While the family members will be different, I imagine much of my recipe will still be followed.  If nothing else, I know I am yet again assigned to bring rolls.  Apparently, word of my cooking ability has reached Nanny, as not only were rolls allocated to me this year, but she also told Thad that it would be okay if I just stopped at the store and bought them!  Good choice Nanny, good choice!

Country Mouse Gets Her Groceries Delivered

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As I sit in my mo-partment on this dreary, drizzly day, awaiting the arrival of my groceries, I am reminded of a storybook from my childhood.  It was one of those fabulous Little Golden Books, the ones with the hard cardboard covers and the golden spines covering their bindings. (I remember having piles of those books, my favorites being The Tawny Scrawny Lion and The Large and Growly Bear.  This may date me a bit, but I even remember when Little Golden Books were the prizes that came with Happy Meals at McDonald’s.  I do believe there were several copies of The Pokey Little Puppy scattered throughout our house that can be directly credited to the Golden Arches. There was none of the shoddy plastic toys that end up crammed under the seats of a minivan or that fall apart before the kid even gets a chance to eat the now requisite four slices of apple that are included in each and every McMeal of happiness. Little Golden Books were the way to go!)

But I digress.  The sky is gray. Misty moisture hangs in the air. Groceries are to be delivered soon. All of this together makes me think of those picture books- namely The City Mouse and the Country Mouse.  The basic premise of this classic tale is that these mice switch places, the city one going to the countryside and the country mouse going to the big city. While on their little vacations, each mouse discovers that he is best suited for the environment from which he came, although they do each embrace a bit of adventure along the way.

The rodent-riddled story comes to mind today not because I mouse-ily wish to retreat to my former surroundings, but because as I sit here awaiting the arrival of my milk and eggs and bread, it is the perfect time to ponder the many ways that city life in the DC Metro area is different from the more suburban one I had living in the Treasure Valley.

Being car-less is probably the most overriding change I’ve experienced in our move across the country. Nearly all of the other changes are predicated upon this one omission. Not having a vehicle of our own means:

*Public transportation is the way to roll. In the last six months I have ridden a significant portion of the DC Metro lines. I’ve spent countless hours on the blue line shuttling into the District and back, enjoyed numerous monument-filled crossings of the Potomac on the yellow line and ventured into Maryland several times on the red. Professional sporting events have led me to brave both the green line and the far reaches of the blue, while the lure of tasty food has sent me trekking up the orange line. While possibly a nightmare for the colorblind, the rainbow-hued map of the Metro system has served me well for the last half year.

*Grocery shopping is done online and the bags of food are delivered directly to my front door. There is no more squeaky, wiggle-wheeled cart to push up and down the aisles of my nearby Albertson’s store, no more Sunday night runs to get sandwich fixings for the upcoming school week and no more dropping by the store on the way home from work to get a forgotten ingredient or two for that night’s dinner. Online grocery shopping may take a bit more planning, but it also means I can take care of my grocery list make-up-less and in my pajamas. (Okay, to be fair, if you grocery shop at Walmart, there are many a customer there who are shopping in a state that makes them appear as if they just rolled out of bed, but I can do so with dignity  in the privacy of my own little home!!) Not only is shopping done in the cozy comfort of the mo-partment, but the scheduled delivery means that Thad’s copious amounts of Diet Mountain Dew magically appear at my door without me having to haul them myself.

*Our knowledge of local car rental companies is quickly expanding.  Without a car, but living in a place where there are no less than a million historical sites to be visited, long weekends require personal transportation. Since we are on the east coast for a limited amount of time, we try to take advantage of every opportunity to visit the parks and monuments in the area. This means that the Enterprise and Hertz websites and I have become very comfortable with one another.  I can reserve the best deal, with discounts added, in a matter of minutes without having the search endlessly for just the right ride. Thad has become buddies with the manager of one nearby rental company, always stopping to chat with him before embarking on the circle of safety required before the car keys are handed over.

The transition from Idaho life to Virginia life isn’t nearly as dramatic as the ones faced by the country mouse and the city mouse, but the idea that such a change requires a one to develop a different set of coping skills still holds true. In Idaho, I probably would have scoffed at someone telling me that they had their groceries delivered, but living on the ninth floor of an apartment building without access to a car, such a proposition suddenly makes a bit more sense.

I can only imagine what this American mouse will be blogging about in six more months when Chinese mouse’s world becomes her own!

Eat All the Chocolate!

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With three days off from Chinese class forthcoming, it was time once again to make the short trek to our local Enterprise Rent-A-Car outlet.  (All of their commercials tout that they will pick me up, and yet I still found myself leaning in to the wind to progress through the tornadoes of dancing leaves on this brink November morning!)

Today’s destination? North to the sweet land of candy that is the headquarters of the largest candy company in North America-Chocolate World in Hershey, Pennsylvania. The home of cacao confectionery is just a few hours from DC and sounded like the perfect foil to Justin’s week of Smithsonian and national monument touring.

When this plan was concocted earlier this week, we were all excited by the possibility of a bit of chocolate coming our way.  We heard great things about the destination from a variety of friends.  We formed mental images of a tasty chocolate land. What we found was great. It was tasty. It was also nothing that we expected.  Chocolate World was a bit like the American version of Singapore’s Haw Par Villa. Craziness bottled as family-fun.

Once inside the awesomeness that is Chocolate World, we promptly enrolled ourselves in Hershey University.  We mentally inserted our plastic pocket protectors and took our seats in the second row of a chocolate tasting class. The coursework was rigorous, including such tasks as listening to our various chocolate bars and blowing bubbles in our chocolate milk.  It wasn’t easy and a few crib notes were necessary, but eventually all three of us earned our Hershey University Master’s degrees!  This will definitely be added to my resume, as I am sure it will give me that extra leverage I might need to get a job within the Chengdu consulate.

As graduation was behind us, not yet ready to face the working world and with our parents’ basements on the other side of the country, we decided there was no better use of our afternoon than to attend Hershey’s Really Big 3-D Show.  This extravaganza started out like any other IMAX-type movie found at tourist hubs, with the requisite dorky glasses being handed out and a variety of visitors filing into a movie theater, carefully seating themselves so that there is always an open seat between groups of people. It is at this point when the Really Big 3-D Show went from predictable tourist attraction to mass acid trip! As the lights dimmed and we donned our futuristic goggles, the giant screen came alive with an assortment of dancing candy bars, all popping off the screen as if they couldn’t contain their sugary goodness. Dodging and ducking to avoid the Hershey’s Kisses flying at my face, my chair started to vibrate to rhythm of the music and giant bubbles fell from the roof, silently gliding down through the strobe lights.  Not to be left out of the sensory overload, my nose filled with the smell of chocolate as scent was pumped into the auditorium and streamers popped open in the air. (The chocolate smell instantly took me back to elementary school.  It was precisely the same scent as the chocolate scratch-and-sniff stickers we used to get from our teachers for correctly answering all the questions in our phonics book or for remembering to carry the ones in each of our math problems!)

In Chocolate World, we were definitely part of the 99%, having racked up student loans and it seemed like it was probably time to put those college degrees to work by making chocolate bars. Our new uniforms included aprons, hairnets, gloves for me and a beard-net for Justin. We then entered the chocolate laboratory where we each got to choose a base chocolate bar (mine was dark), up to three inclusions (I went with almonds and raspberries) and a choice of whether or not to top it with sprinkles (like there is even a question there- yes please!).  While our individual creations cooled, we then went off to the marketing room where we created labels for our new candy items.  Finally, with the chocolate ready to go and the wrappers printed, we were handed our unique sweet treats!

Thirty minutes of work on the chocolate factory line was more than enough for us, so with our personalized confectionery in tow, it was off to take a tour of the chocolate museum.  Much like with the 3-D show, this was anything but what we expected! After loading into amusement-park like carts, we were hauled off on an adventure that included singing cows, a rather warm ride through a cacao bean roaster and images of thousands of chocolate Kisses being created.

(In other news, I think I have a brilliant way to bring the lovely Smithsonian institutions into the twenty-first century- tours of the best museum pieces via Tilt-A-Whirl carts narrated by a variety of mammals and concluding with roller coaster-like photographs of the experience! )

Just a day ago, I would have doubted anyone who told me there was such a thing as too much chocolate.  No longer. As the name implies, Chocolate World is inundated with chocolate.  We were given free samples at every turn. Like kids in a candy store, we all excitedly accepted each candy offered to us by these strangers (seeing no creepy white van in sight, we figured it was safe), not thinking far enough ahead to consider the possibility of a need for moderation.  Soon the giggles of glee at each new proffering turned into stammers of soreness as our bellies ached from the over-consumption of these tasty gifts.

Feeling diabetes swiftly inching closer and closer, we figured it was time to make our escape from the marvelous land that is Chocolate World. We went into this experience with high hopes, but the reality far exceeded those expectations.  Hershey’s Chocolate World is Charlie Bucket’s reality transformed into our own, smack in the middle of Pennsylvania.  It was definitely Golden Ticket worthy!

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Holiday Flight Fiasco

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Since the stores are quickly filling with elf-laden Christmas goods, my mailbox is daily inundated with gadget-packed catalogs and red and white striped candy canes have replaced the bags of fun-sized Halloween candy bars, the time to consider airline tickets home has come.

Probably six weeks ago, Thad and I started to talk about what time he would have off around the holidays and mentally planning our trip home to Idaho. At that time, I checked ticket prices and was pleasantly surprised to see flight prices for the week surrounding Christmas at nearly the same price as they were when I flew home this summer.  Without knowing for sure which days he would be able to take off from his Chinese studies, we shelved ticket-buying until more concrete information was available.

About two weeks ago, FSI finally sent out a notice about the holiday schedule. Basically, students were told that they did not have to come to the facility each day for classes during the week between Christmas and New Year’s, but they were to create self-study plans and stick to them.  On my first day of class this last week, the head of the Chinese department told us he didn’t care if we completed our self-study in our Oakwoods or on a cruise ship to Tahiti, as long as they were done.

The combined presence of holiday bedecked stores and a set travel window sent me scampering to the internet to book those tickets I saw weeks ago. Alas, it was not to be that easy or painless.

I was shocked and horrified by what I found in the vast cosmos of the World Wide Web. In the last few weeks, ticket prices from Washington to Boise have nearly doubled. Over the course of about ten days, I checked every possible ticket site. I dizzily circled Orbitz. My time logged on Expedia was anything but expedient. I Kayak-ed until my arms could no longer fight the white water of airline frustration.

I was thwarted at every turn as I tried to finesse dates, create wiggle room in times and expanded my search to airports that weren’t just a single Metro stop away. Each of these maneuvers got me no closer to a bottom line that came anywhere near acceptable.

After announcing that I no longer cared and we were just going to celebrate Christmas in the mo-partmet, China-style, I clapped shut the laptop and huffed off to bed in my pink, fuzzy monster slippers. I officially tagged myself out of this fight.

Imagine my surprise when the following day, as I purposefully avoided looking at airline ticket websites,  I received a text from Thad saying he had the answer to all of our Christmas woes. The short story is that he had a classmate who won tickets through a drawing with a not to be named airline.  This fellow Chinese studier  and his family were going to be unable to use said tickets and he was willing to give those tickets to us.  It just so happened that a few days after he gave Thad the tickets, Thad gave him a nice monetary gift, just for being such a wonderful student of Mandarin.

Our tickets are taken care of and I have spoken with my Nampa-based hotel concierge (she is nearing her third birthday and has a chocolate Hershey’s kiss and a room ready for me). It is now time to start gift shopping, which means another, more enjoyable, foray into the Never-Neverland of dot coms.

 

Theodore Roosevelt Meets LMFAO

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The arrival of weekend meant books being shelved and the commencement of fun. (Okay, that isn’t entirely accurate.  Rather than putting the books away, like the uber-organizational nerd that I tend to be, I wanted to get my stuff put together before the second week of classes began. Part of this process included taking my textbooks to Kinkos to have them re-bound.  Rather than the regular, tight glue binding that they came with, I wanted them cut apart and put into spiral bindings.  This is so much better for filling in page after page in my workbook!) The fun part is accurate though.

Since Six Flags won out in a battle for weekend amusement a few weeks ago, this weekend went to the consultation prize- Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Island (hereafter known as TRMI). While it may have been the runner up in a fight between roller coasters and monuments, TRMI came in at the top of the list for great sight-seeing in the fall.

First on the list for Sunday was a quick jaunt up the road from the Rosslyn Metro to pho.  It just isn’t weekend here without a bowl of pho and a Coke (or Vietnamese iced coffee if you are Thad.) While the meat options include tripe and tendon, I stick with the brisket and flank.  Thad uncomplainingly eats anything there as long as he can smother it in Sriracha sauce first.

With our full bellies sloshing with pho broth, walking off lunch sounded like a good plan.  TRMI is only about a mile from where we were at, so out we headed.  Early November is a beautiful time to visit the memorial.  Sunday was sunny without a cloud in the sky, so it was perfect day for our visit. The trees are currently showcasing their fall collection, making the crisscrossing paths into runways fit for New York Fashion Week.

The piles of leaves covering the pathways lent themselves well to a little “Party Rock Anthem” action, as I found myself “shufflin’, shufflin’, shufflin’” through their crispy, crunchy heaps.

While I didn’t strap myself to a piece of metal that shoots its occupants from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds like I did at the last park I visited, this park had a different set of thrills with the rainbow colored leaves slowly drifting down from the trees as we meandered our way across the island. Our visit to TRMI was a great way to welcome the crispness of fall during our year in DC!

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Welcome to Chinese Class!

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The time has come to shelve the bon bons, find some real pants and join the world of schedules and deadlines once again.  Five months of summer vacation have come and gone, some days filled with cultural enlightenment, many with fabulous new books via e-book library lending, a few with Kardashian-following and one with laser-guided retina searing. Living on a self-made schedule is over now, though. The grindstone has resurfaced and, as prophesied by En Vouge, it is “back to life, back to reality” I go.

I joined the ranks of the Crystal City Oakwood shuttle riders Monday morning, reusable pink coffee mug in hand , headed to FSI to commence Chinese language training.  (FSI is the Foreign Service Institute.  It is basically a small college campus where the State Department trains its personnel, much of it devoted to language studies. As an EFM, eligible family member, ie: spouse, I also qualify to receive free language training through the department.)

After being issued an official badge, it was time to venture into the maze of corridors that make up the institute. Passing by the legless, but fur-tailed coyotes randomly stuck into the grass throughout the grounds, (these are apparently meant to deter geese from making the pleasant park-like surroundings  their home, but more than once I’ve seen the geese contentedly lazing near these not-so-ferocious lawn ornaments) I arrived for day one.

I’ve only been in class for a week now, but here are a few of my first observations:

  1. Five hours is a long time to spend in a small classroom together.  The wall seems to come about four and a half hours in, after which point brains turn to mush and language becomes nonsensical blabber.
  2. Textbooks are heavy!  We were given three books the first day, and since have added two more to the stack.  The only time I’ve consistently carried more weight in books than this is when I was taking my Shakespeare class at BYU and hauled the Complete Works across campus every day for an entire summer term.
  3. Homework is no fun! I should know this, having been a teacher for over a decade and always having a stack of papers in my bag that need graded or lessons to prepare, but there is just something about having actual *homework* that is super stressful.  I don’t get home from class until 6PM each night, at which point the last thing I want to do is pull out the books and get right to work, but as the exact opposite of a night-owl, my productivity ends pretty early in the evening.
  4. I need a unique lunch sack. This first week, I’ve packed my Smucker’s Uncrustable peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, cup of apple sauce and dinosaur-shaped fruit snacks in a regular paper sack. Once crammed into the refrigerator with the lunches from everyone else studying an East Asian/Pacific language, my sack is totally indistinguishable from all of the other crumpled bags also shoved unceremoniously into that box of cool goodness.
  5. Chinese is hard. Enough said.

With just six months until our departure date,  down goes the Nook, out come the dress slacks and away with Mandarin we go!!  加油!

Hawk Eyes are Mine, At Last!

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No lotion or face cream. No make-up. No hairspray or mousse. No jewelry.  No perfume.

So, let’s get this straight. You want me to not only leave the mo-partment in this condition, but to actually venture out into public?!? As if enduring five weeks of my geek-tastic glasses wasn’t torture enough, the last set of preparations for LASIK included a long list things to not do or wear. (The no jewelry is obvious to me, as it could get in the way during the procedure, but I had to ask about the lotion/hairspray/perfume edict.  Apparently, the smells can somehow affect the way the laser works (??). A few days ago I would have written this off as medical drivel, but after inadvertently discovering that several of my required eye drops taste badly enough that I want to drink mouthwash, even though they’ve never touched my tongue, I am willing to believe nearly anything when it comes to this process.)

LASIK day started early, with a fresh-faced exit out the door by a little after 6AM. We were in Rockville within the hour. Upon check-in, I had to provide my date of birth and in turn I was given a name tag that was to be prominently displayed at all times.  While I sat fidgeting nervously in the waiting room, Thad took the opportunity to check out the snack basket and inspect the mini-fridge for goodies, while at the same time pointing out the appropriateness of the commercial for blinds (as in curtains) that played several times on the TV.

Soon enough my name was called.  Thad and I went to a small exam room at the back of the office where I again had to give my date of birth.  This time, rather than an official looking sticker to adorn my outfit, I was given something much better- Valium!  (It seemed like a good idea, but I am not sure it kicked in until the ride home.  Two might have been a better way to go.)

After a few more minutes of sitting around, the surgeon came in and promptly asked for my date of birth. Verifying that the chart in front of him and the person in his chair were one and the same,  we then went over last minute details and walked through the steps of the procedure.  I was given some classy blue covers to go over my shoes (making me feel like I was back in the Chengdu dentist’s office) and a lovely matching cap to cover my hair. (Just wait- these surgical accessories are going to be all the rage on the spring runway in Paris!)

With these various steps out of the way, Thad and I were taken to the waiting room right outside the surgical suite. (I like the way they refer to it as a suite. It sounds so soothing and comforting and not like somewhere I am going to meet my Final Destination demise.)

Soon enough, it was time to head in.  Thad couldn’t come in with me, but instead was at the window to the surgical suite, watching all the juicy goodness as it took place. With little preamble (other than once again stating my date of birth), I laid down on a medical bed and things started happening all around me. My fashionable blue cap doubled as a tissue holder, being stuffed with Kleenex to soak up the massive amount of liquid that was soon to be squirted into my eyes.  I spent the next few minutes looking at various green dots with my right eye, trying not to freak out as a speculum was placed around my eye and then attempting to keep my squawks of discomfort to a minimum as the surgeon put a suction cup on my eye and proceeded to cut a flap into the corneal tissue. Several times throughout this procedure the doctor asked if I was breathing.  At one point I think I replied with a very polite “No thank you.” Breathing required movement and there was no way I was going to make the slightest twitch while a laser was pointed at my eyeball! As he released the speculum from my right eye, I felt my whole body relax for just a second and I had the chance to fill my lungs with oxygen briefly, until I realized we now go to go through the whole process again, this time on my left eye.

Having successfully survived the corneal flap cutting stage, I then stood up and walked/was walked a few feet away to a second bed in the suite.  This was where the real sizzling action took place!  Starting again with Ol’ Righty, I watched the pretty green, flickering light, as red ones danced around the edges of my vision.  During the seventeen seconds of laser-ing, the room filled with a lovely scent that one of the nurses had told me to expect and which she chalked up to the gasses used by the machine, but I am pretty sure it was the scent of my eye being seared by the laser! This laser reshaping of my eye was much less uncomfortable than the flap-cutting portion of the day, so with a bit more breathing, I made it through the fifteen seconds needed to then correct my left eye.

With the laser put away, the surgeon placed the flaps back over my eyes with what appeared to be a Q-tip, gushed my eyes with liquid once more and it was over!  As I stood up, ready to be led into the recovery room, not in pain, but a little disoriented, I was greeted with a camera!  Apparently, the staff at the medical clinic think that directly post-procedure is the best time for a photo op with the surgeon. ( I was promised a copy of this picture via email, so if/when it comes, I will add it here. I am terrified to imagine what it looks like, as I was on Valium, just had my eyes repaired via laser and was more than a bit disoriented at the moment.)

Thad met me in the recovery room, where we spent a total of about five minutes. I downed a couple Tylenol PMs, took my goodie bag of eye drops and bedtime eye covers and we were done.

(Here is a video, not of my surgery, but of one very much like mine.  It is a bit juicy and not for those with weak stomachs.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoH0VHrOM9A )

Leaving the building, I felt pretty good, but it didn’t take long for the burning to emerge. By the time we got home, my eyes felt like a Thailand sunburn after months of overcast Chengxian skies. Thad filled my eyes with “comfort drops” (I have no idea what was in them, possibly puppy tears,  but they were liquid bliss, instantly relieving the burning sensation in my eyes.) With my ridiculously dorky eye covers taped to my face, I gently hit the pillow, only waking to re-“comfort drop” a couple of times, until mid-afternoon.

With a reading ban in place, (only once did I try to get away with it, tempted by a catalog that came in the mail, for which Thad promptly reprimanded me) I spent my waking hours watching a marathon of Cops on TV and blinking my way  through my assigned regimen of eye drops.

Twenty-four hours post-op, I tested at nearly 20/20 vision, with my left eye just a bit behind my right in the healing process. My crazy eye drop schedule will continue for a few more weeks, I have to tape the plastic goggles to my head each night for the next five days and the eye make-up prohibition continues to be in place for another week, which may kill me since I start Chinese classes on Monday (eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, oh my!) but otherwise, I am pretty good to go.

No contacts. No saline solution. No glasses.  No more four-eyed blindness!

The eyes of a hawk have finally become mine.  Success!

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Hallowmas or Christween?

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Seriously Target?  It is a well-known fact that there is no holiday I like less than Halloween, but still…have you no festive soul?

As proud owners of a silver Nissan Sentra for the next twenty-four hours (LASIK transportation), Thad and I decided to use our short-term mobility for such exciting adventures as dinner off the Metro line and a trip to Target that didn’t require crossing our fingers and hoping the bus doesn’t blow right by us.

After a tasty (and quite onion-y on Thad’s part) dinner at Lost Dog Café, we headed out to Potomac Yard to get candy for the costumed critters sure to ring our doorbell on Monday evening.  Heading to the back of the store to where the specialty aisles are usually located, I expected to be confronted with rows of Halloween costumes littering the ground in utter chaos.  (Halloween aisles resurrect nightmares from my teenage job as a clerk at ShopKo. I don’t know what it is about costumes, maybe it is part of the creepiness of the holiday, but the hangers seem to be invisible to the shoppers.  Why hang something back up when it can go in a pile of glittery, sparkly, wig filled refuse?)

Before we reached those ridiculous aisles, we stumbled upon something even more absurd- Christmas! Stockings to hang by the chimney with care, bells to jingle all the way, Dashers and Dancers and Comets and Vixens. It was all there.

The Halloween aisles and the burgeoning Christmas aisles have merged into one large holiday conglomerate. I could easily reach out and grab a pumpkin emblazoned bag of orange and black M&M’s with my left hand and simultaneously choose some adorable sledding penguin wrapping paper with my right.

As I pondered the corporate greed that might be blamed for this holiday insanity,  I realized that the possibility of a conspiracy exists, but it isn’t on the part of big-business.  The immediate jump from Halloween to Christmas really profits one group more than any other- the turkeys!  They are more than ugly (yet yummy), wattle-bearing birds- they might just be the brilliant minds behind the skipping of Thanksgiving. Much like the Chick-Fil-A cows and their campaign for us to eat more chicken, the birds have caught on and figure they’ll pull the same stunt by capitalizing on the consumerism of America. Target seems to be happy to comply with this devious plan, as the orange and black and red and green have mixed into a muddy gray of holiday ludicrousness.

Like it or not, Halloween is Monday night.  Let’s give our slowly sagging jack o’lanterns and spider-web covered bushes their chance to shine in the eerie strobe lights.  Santa and his elves can wait in the wings for just one more week before they make their first magical appearance and parents have to begin to explain how Mr. Claus can be at  both the mall and the parade a at the same time.

Pick a Park- Culture or Amusement?

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Last weekend, Thad and I decided that this weekend we would take in some of Washington’s cultural magnificence.  Not far from the Rosslyn Metro station (which is just a few stops  up from us on the blue line) is the footbridge that leads to the Theodore Roosevelt Island National Memorial. We figured with the fall foliage out in full force, it would be a beautiful way to spend an afternoon.

But then option #2 came up: Six Flags with John and Erin!

Well, there was little debate to be had- if rides are an option, decision making is unnecessary.

The weather has definitely cooled off here lately, which created a bit of a conundrum in my mind.  I associate amusements parks with broiling summer days, finding a balance between comfortable yet cool clothing and the constant need for gallons of liquid refreshment. Pulling into a parking lot with brightly colored roller coasters on an overcast horizon and getting out of the car while pulling on a hoodie all felt a bit perplexing.

The day may not have been filled with a cacophony of fall colors, but it was filled with rainbow-hued roller coasters christened after super heroes.  (That, and one ridiculously dizzying spin on the teacups!)

John and Erin are well aware of my fear of heights. This became much glaringly obvious after they watched me crab-crawl, terrified,  across the glass floor of the 1,109 foot high Macau Tower a few years ago.  What they didn’t know is that my terror translates into a running scream/dialogue on rides.  It usually starts on the uphill climb with an announcement about the mistakes that have been made and then quickly morphs into a series of “Oh no!”’s and “I think I’m going to die”’s and a few “Oh my gosh!”’s.  The cries of fright are always G-rated, as I wouldn’t want to offend those eight year olds that are gleefully enjoying the ride of their lives. (Standing in line, waiting to willingly enter into these death defying situations, I always try to convince myself that it can’t be that bad when kids who only meet the height requirement by mere centimeters are blithely hopping on for a round of fear and fun.)

John, Erin, Thad and I spent the day, making the rounds to each of the roller coasters, making our way to a few spinning rides as well.  From Joker’s Jinx (terrifying start!) to Batwing (longest line ever!), rides were ridden and death was defied. (Disclaimer: I didn’t attempt all of them. I spent part of the day as a happy viewer, allowing the others to experience the terror without me.)

When the mercury hits sixty, I don’t normally think of amusement parks, but it turned out to be great, until the sun went down, when it quickly cooled off.  It wasn’t the rapidly chilling air that made me ready to call it a day though.  With Halloween just a week away, Six Flags is right in the middle of their Fright Night season, which means with the setting of the sun comes the appearance of costumed creatures, many of them wielding chainsaws!  I will nervously get on a speeding hunk of metal that shoots me into the air, turns upside down, twirls in corkscrews and then comes to a whiplash inducing, screeching halt, but I can’t handle the costumed creatures.  It was time to bid adieu to the park and head home and soothe the frazzled nerves created by perilous rides and creepy creatures.

Culture-smulture! Maybe next weekend we’ll make that trip to the Theodore Roosevelt Island Memorial and the lovely dancing leaves of fall!

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