Vegas, Fourth and Final

Up again a little too early, sort of starting to pack my things to be able to come back & go to the airport. Headed out for the game, everyone a bit jittery, I think. The team was playing on a different rink at the same place as most of their games, in the farthest room from the doors, and I had to go past the benches (read: not as much protection from flying pucks) to get to it with Val (which just made me damned nervous). (Val likes to see her moms before the game.)

I saw much of this game, which was a good thing, as it really was a good game. I did have to miss some important parts to take Val to the changing table. Once we got there, she helpfully pointed out that the poop I thought I'd smelled was "gas." Dang, good thing they're cute!

She was cold this game, unlike the others, so I snuggled her as best I could to warm her up. Burninators skated and skated and scored some and gave some up. Hooey, it was tense. I started the benches thumping and chanting "Bur-ni-NATE!" a few times, but we noticed each time we did this, the puck ended up in our zone, so we were a bit discouraged. We kept yelling, but only joined in when the Burninators themselves thumped away.

Sadly, the game ended before the Burninators were able to dominate. There was a nice trophy ceremony at the end, where they handed out first- and second-place trophies to all the participants, as well as All Tournament trophies to the standouts (on both teams and one on another team entirely). Just after I said to a friend, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if someone skated up and took out the entire trophy table, Ellen skated up and wiped out completely. Didn't take out the trophy table, but it was pretty funny. Even funnier when others skated up and exaggerated being careful in the spot (another skater pointed out with her skate that that area was actually very uneven). Ellen took it well, and ended up with one of the All Tournament trophies, so that wasn't all bad.

TROGDOR the Burninator was still revered even after the defeat (I was somewhat ready for the team to shred him into yarny bits, to vent their--dare I say it?--spleens).

insert flight late turbulence no spilled beer lost luggage here

Vegas, Part 3

Saturday morning was the first of two early-morning games. Well, early for getting up and to a hockey game, at least. 9AM isn't so early for, say, getting to work. For some. :)

Poor Val was so bleary. Lots of people (half of whom I didn't know) kept coming up to her and saying "hi" and expecting... something. Poor thing hardly reacted. I just told everyone it was very early for her.

This was a wild game. The opposing team was WHOA Arizona, and I'd seen them before, before or after one of our earlier games. There was a classic Hockey Mom there, saying to her daughter, "You tell (other daughter's name) to just push through it. I don't want to see her slacking off." Man, serious much? I had chatted with her a little and went off after Val, who was probably looking for "Cousin" to boss her around (nice to get a little break there).

Well, that mom was there for the morning's game, and when I said something smart-mouthy about apologizing for beating their team in the next game, she didn't even crack a smile. Yikes.

I do believe it was her two daughters that swooped down the ice again and again to shoot. Thankfully, Cara was able to stop enough goals that the Burninators not only won, but ended up with enough of a goal differential to avoid playing the semifinal game that night. They were pretty happy. That much intense hockey is tough, I could see.

I got dropped off near Treasure Island, and met Amy there. This is my friend who I've known for eight years online but never before met face to face. She was exactly what I'd expected, except even more petite. She is sharp, funny, and a great parent. We agree on a ton of parenting topics, and have agreed to disagree on some political and religious ones. I know we both value our friendship very highly. It was so great to meet her and to meet her husband, who was so cute. I was glad for Amy that she got such a great guy. He was really sweet about letting us gab on and on, even though I knew it was taking away from her time with him without their three kids. We had lunch and gambled a bit--her winning $60 and me winning $25, and then parted, with them going off to a show for which they'd gotten "free" tickets (with a one-$10-drink minumum).

I wandered around a bit on the Strip, which was fun, except for realizing that the guys (and women) holding out small cards were advertising prostitutes. Right there on the sidewalk. Yuck. But I did stop to see what various vendors were selling, and overhear a really hard-sell on a timeshare... Vegas is like nowhere else. I headed back for our hotel, and once I'd left the Strip, called Liz. They were on their way to her other-team game, and offered to pick me up. I found an enormous steak-dinner sign and waited under that.

We went off to the game, which was a tough one, and I wandered over to the Dreyer's at one point. Walked in, looked up, and saw Cal women's basketball being slaughtered by Stanford. I exclaimed, and who was right there to hassle me but Jenny B, who shows up at most hockey games with a big red Stanford sweatshirt? Timing is everything. Roomie was there with me, so we explained some aspects of the rivalry--just as they put The Play on the TV. Fun to remember that I was there on the field (at the other end, not in the way of the players).

Buffet and bed, to be ready for the final 9AM game.

Vegas, Part 2: Thursday/Friday

The other part of Thursday night's game is that, despite the team being chipper, both Val and I were yawning almost the entire time. I was making jokes that I didn't know which one was going to hold out the longest, and Flirty Mary said her money was on Val. (the nerve!)

Friday morning, I woke up pretty early, and got antsy, so I went out for a Power Walk before we left for breakfast. I walked around the whole hotel area, which had lots of lovely paths and green lawns. I did one set of stairs by the casino and decided "That's enough of THAT," and circled back. I found a lap pool that was open (the main pool was closed), and figured out you have to enter and exit through the fitness center, which was pretty good-sized but a teeny bit shabby. Made a vow to go to Target and get a swimsuit (didn't happen).

We went to Terrible's for breakfast buffet, but were caught by our arrival time between breakfast buffet (already closed) and lunch buffet (not open yet). We had table service instead, and I had tasty Eggs Benedict, always a favorite. Roomie and I both ordered coffee and got our own full carafes right on the table. Suhweet. Not so suhweet was the offer of non-dairy liquid creamer in half-and-half-looking little tubs. Eew. This was true everywhere in Vegas, for some reason.

As we walked down the stairs after breakfast, we spotted a TV screen that had an image of a hotel burning. It took us a while to wake up and realize the screen said "in Las Vegas." Wow! I never did see it burning, but one of the teams in the game before the Burninators' had been staying in the Monte Carlo, and they went into their game not even knowing if their stuff was burnt to a crisp. Luckily, no one was harmed and they got moved to the Luxor without trouble.

This one was a squeaker: 2-2 until the end, when a late goal won the game for the Burninators. I believe this was the Rebound Game: their goalie stopped every first shot, and the only chance for scoring was off the rebounds. Very exciting.

After that game, I called my friend who happened to be in town to see when we should get together. She was planning on dinner and a show ("O" from Cirque du Soleil) and thought we should meet for drinks at 10, or when they got out of the show. "I can push on through,"I thought. But we were both relieved when we canceled, especially when she realized 10PM in Vegas is 1AM in Georgia. We rescheduled for lunch the next day.

So, footloose and fancy free, I transferred to the graffiti'd van to go with many others to The Gun Store. All of the others were there to shoot machine guns, which you apparently can't do around here, but I just wanted to shoot a gun to see if I could. I asked for a gun that would fit my hand (as others told me that some guns are just too big for most women's hands) without a lot of kick that I could shoot accurately.

I was given a Glock 9mm. You can see how I did here. The guy who told me how to stand etc. was completely humorless, but when he retrieved my paper target, told me that it would qualify me for such-and-such certificate--which is a little scary, given that I had never shot a real gun before that day. I do admit to being proud of my shooting (that hole in the center of the heart? my first shot), but the percussive sound of my shots and everyone else's in the gallery made me jump every. single. time. I really just wanted to know I could do it, and I came away with that knowledge as well as the knowledge that it was a damned good thing I never signed up for the military, as I would have been a quivering ball in the corner in any gun exercise. I did get to watch Viv shoot one of the machine guns, and see actual fire coming out of the sides of the nozzle. Whoah.

That night was the team dinner, which I'd thought I'd be missing to have dinner with my friend. I was happy to be able to make it, but felt sad that Liz had to miss it to play with another team. The Wynn buffet was $40, which is pricey for me, so when they said they could only seat us together in a side room, and only with an 18% gratuity slapped on, I hesitated. Andrea gave the nod, and when I realized it was only $6, I was happy to pay it. That was a great choice. We had a nice room, easy seating, and the food was (Liz, don't read this) absolutely amazing. I think there was one thing that wasn't actually superb. I had a good time getting six desserts, splitting them all down the middle, and selling the extras to my neighbors. They even had veg sushi for folks like me. Really nice. I mean, really awful, I swear, Liz.

Vegas, Part 1: Arrival

Background: Liz & Andrea go to Vegas every year on my birthday weekend. (I know, their priorities are way messed up.) Every year, they invite me to come along--"It'll be so fun! Hanging with your hockey pals!" And every year, I've just invited them to my birthday bash, which they can't attend.

Well, this year, my sister and I were going to take our kids to Disneyland that weekend, for a long weekend. It was going to be a little rushed, so we decided to go over Spring Break instead. I mentioned offhand that I could actually go to Vegas this year, and L&A jumped at the chance--they needed someone to watch beautiful, funny Val (oh man, you should see her when she scrunches her nose up!). They even offered to cover my airfare!

Let's see: free airfare, cheap (relatively) hotel, fun hockey pals, Vegas, and this mystery called Sonic about which they rave each year. OK!

I flew out Thursday afternoon, after working just a couple of hours and getting the house in order so it wasn't a shambles when I returned. I didn't run into any other hockey people (which seemed odd), but I did run into our church's music director! She is wonderful and we were able to have lunch together (in which I walked away from the register before paying--I get so caught up when I'm chatting! They caught up with me). The flight was uneventful, except for maybe spotting a blogging friend of mine in the Southwest magazine, and after I snagged my suitcase, I managed to get picked up promptly by the Lizvan. I didn't drive all weekend, and man, that alone was worth the price of admission. Plus, Andrea got lost on the Strip once so I got plenty of eye candy from that (ooh, aah, neon).

Met my roommate, who turned out to be a very cool gal (HS friend of Liz's), and went off to the first game. Didn't see much of it, but they did Burninate and win. (Val was very active and not too interested in sitting and watching hockey. Although she never did complain about my yelling encouragement to the team, inches from her ear.)

Slept.

"Don't enroll here"

I was listening to the radio with half an ear as I drove back from water polo. They were advertising a business school. [Your school will be blah blah,] "in a grating environment"... wait, what was that?

Oh: "integrating environmental values...."

I guess that's better. The other way sounded so cheesy.

(I can hear your groans from here)

Sometimes it pays to complain

Leaving Las Vegas on Sunday was crazy. My flight was supposed to leave at 3:30PM and didn't actually take wing until 6:00. Everyone's outbound flights were delayed. We dawdled a bit getting to the airport, returning the rental car, etc., and my bag got marked "late check-in," which is kind of bull, as it was checked in about an hour and a half before we left.

In any case, after a flight that ranked with the New York New York outdoor rollercoaster, I waited for my bag at the carousel, and maybe 15 bags total came out, none of them mine. I was actually happy when I was told it didn't make the plane and that if it didn't make the next flight, they'd deliver it. "Just call at 10:15," she says, "to see if it made the next flight." She hands me a business card with the Southwest baggage claim phone number.

This, to me, implied that I could actually A) talk to a human, and B) find out what happened to my bag. More the fool I.

I called, and got an answering machine. Left my info... but not my phone number. (10:15 is kind of late for me, and I think I didn't sleep all that well in Vegas.) Called back, left my phone number. Called a third time, pressing "2" for the supervisor instead of the "1" I'd dialed before for regular baggage claim. It went to the same answering machine. I gave up.

Tried again in the morning, hanging up when I got the machine. Tried the "2" one last time... and actually got a human being. She said yes, my bag was there. I gave up on trying to make them deliver it and spent most of my lunch hour picking it up. I realized on the way there that I was going to have to pay for parking just to pick up my mislaid or delayed bag. Argh. $2 for 30 minutes? Highway robbery.

At the counter, I produced the parking stub, and asked them to comp the parking, since I'd driven there to pick up the bag. She sweetly apologized, explaining they basically had no relationship with the parking company--but she'd give me a voucher. A voucher? Like a free drink ticket? I gave up my street address and phone number, and she produced a printed sheet--for a $25 credit on a future Southwest flight!

Hey, not bad.

Hm, now *that's* interesting

Makes me wonder if I lied on my answers a little.

You Are Ani Difranco!

Honest, real, and well liked. You're not limited by any boundaries. "And you can call me crazy But I think you're as lazy as white paint on the wall"

Who's Your Inner Rock Chick?

"I don't like being dirty"

That's what my sweet boy said to me last week as I cuddled him in bed, after I had asked him to put something in his room and he admitted later that he'd just tossed it in the corner, on top of a pile of clutter. "I want to be clean like you," he said. Well, that's not reaching terribly far. We are both wrestling with the Cluttering Demon and the Hoarding Monster.

And lately, they are losing. I got up early on Sunday and, as I was already awake, attacked his bookshelf with a passion. He has a 3-shelf bookshelf with arts & crafts stuff on the bottom and books on the top 2 shelves. The top 2 shelves were so full, he couldn't manage to get more books on them, so he had taken to piling them on top, with the usual disastrous consequences.

I pulled and piled, sorted and discarded. I have two of those large Peet's coffee bags (bigger than a grocery bag), each filled to overflowing with books to donate (I've already taken the first installment to the library). I actually found the two books that go with a Book On Tape that we have (Jungle Book on one side, The Rescuers on the other) and got another book on tape together with its hardback version. These are going to their new home with a Freecycler today.

I weeded the bookshelves in the front room too, and moved the majority of the kept books there. In his room, he has a total of 9 books, I think, that we saved. I had separated the sticker and puzzle books, and when he woke up (and was delighted at his now empty, useful shelves), asked him to go through the pile and select 7 to keep. He was happy to do so.

I ended up having to give him a consequence last night for not stopping decluttering when it was time for bed! I'm glad he wants to have his room clean, clear, and useful, but it does come with limits (the kind that will give me a happy, well-rested boy with a clean room!).

And I am working on my own clutter tendencies, as well. I resigned from the Paperback Swap website, as I no longer want to hold on to books I don't want in hopes that someone will request them. I'm also using the library for books to read instead of keeping them at home.

I hope to clear even more bookshelves off so that I have more room to put my yarn out.

You didn't actually expect me to get rid of yarn, now did you? Fools.

Meet Lucy

What a sweet face.
Originally uploaded by RenaissanceWomn

Lucy joined our family last Saturday, January 12. I had been looking for a 6-8-year-old female Labrador Retriever, black or yellow (I just have an aversion to chocolate Labs), and came across her picture on the front page of the Labrador Rescue Labs Available list. She was at the Silicon Valley Humane Society, nearly an hour's drive from us. We nearly went down there the previous Saturday, but I called just to confirm that she was still available, and was told she wasn't there: that she was in a foster home.

I was connected to the foster mom and we chatted for a while on the phone. It turned out the shelter had been planning to euthanize her and the foster mom pulled her. What had looked like dog aggression was actually just massive discomfort from a skin allergy and general grumpiness from being in a shelter for two months. The foster mom exposed her to a zillion situations and "Cinnamon" handled them all with grace. She discovered the itchiness and took her back to SVHS for a vet check-up, where Lucy was put on Prednisone, Benadryl, and a duck-and-potato food. Much better.

She was going to be in Alameda last Friday for an appointment anyway, and brought Lucy to meet us at our house. We liked her right away. The foster mom and I talked and talked and interacted with Lucy, and G finally said, "Mom, she's the right dog for us." Yep, she is.

Lucy is about 7 1/2 (about the same age as G!), spayed, and was given up due to a divorce. I can hardly imagine. The only problem I've found with her is that she is an unashamed counter surfer. She's not destructive (except to her own toys), aggressive, or hyper. She is loving, playful, funny, and smart.

What's interesting is to see so much of Max and Maddy in her. She has the sweetness and cuddliness of Maddy (loves to curl up next to me and flop a paw or shoulder onto me), and the quick wit and trainability of Max. She has Maddy's calm and Max's unflappability. It has been such an eye-opener to get to know this dog where so much is absolutely familiar and some is absolutely foreign. But it is all good. She's home.

Humor in the strangest places

Someone is Freecycling most of a case of Gatorade Frost, and as I'm a Gatorade user for hockey games, I thought I'd figure out what the heck Gatorade Frost is.

So I googled it and came upon this lovely page. I've had it open since this morning and just can't close it without sharing the frosty goodness. Andrea should get a good laugh out of the "color" comment...

Please post widely, and give generously

This is written by my friend Jamie from our April 2000 bulletin board. When we heard about Emma's cancer, that was tragic enough. Shelli has had so much pain; please consider extending her family just a bit of grace. Thanks.

I am writing to you regarding a dear friend of mine whose story deserves to be heard. I have spent the past 4 years or so trying to get her story heard myself, but my voice is simply not loud enough. And then in the past year her story took such a tragic turn that I now turn to you, for help. Please.

I met my friend Shelli about 8 years ago in an online mom's group for those expecting children in April of 2000. Internet friendship! There is now a core group of 9 of us who started our friendship in that online group. We've seen each other through marriage issues, parenting issues, burying parents and unfortunately burying children. All long-distance. The friendship we have is a sisterhood. And we know how lucky we are to have found it.

Shelli's daughter Emma is now 7 years old. Emma was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer (neuroblastoma) at age 2 and has spent most of her life in and out of the hospital getting treatments and therapy. Happily, she is in remission now, although her immune system is still weakened and she receives therapy regularly. I have been out to visit Shelli numerous times in Nebraska (I'm in New York), beginning when Emma got sick. I've come to realize there are people in this world that are special, yet they never seem to get ahead. Because of Emma's astronomical hospital bills, Shelli and her husband Jeff never did get to purchase their own home, and the debt they faced during Emma's illness forced them to declare bankruptcy.

Shelli is an amazingly strong woman, very witty and smart, and an amazingly caring person. Shelli and Jeff had another child, Isabel - age 3, who is thankfully very healthy, and then a son Nathaniel in September of 2006. Nate was born with a congenital heart defect called Atrio Ventricular Septal Defect. This meant he had a hole in all four chambers of his heart. As if that wasn't upsetting enough, he was also missing a rib on each side and there was a portion of his ribs fused together, and his spine had some cracks in the vertebra. Life was uncertain unless Nate could get some much needed surgeries, but he needed to gain weight and strength before the doctor's felt he was able to go through the operations. To get to the point quickly, after a year and 3 months of surgeries, waiting for additional surgeries, and too many medical interventions to count, Nate finally succumbed to his disease on December 14, 2007. He had lived nearly his whole, short life in Omaha Children's Hospital. My last trip to Nebraska was in December, for Nate's funeral. There were 5 of us in attendance from our online mom's group. We came from New York, Connecticut, Alabama and Michigan to say goodbye to Nate and be there for our dear friend.

I'm writing to you because Shelli was not able to work at all during the past 15 months as she spent her days at the hospital. Jeff did not work in recent weeks (as you can imagine). They are amazing people who have just fallen on extremely unfair/hard times too often in the past 8 years. People have been very generous in making donations to them for bills and funeral expenses, but it has not been even close to enough. Most of the donations given prior to Nate's passing were used to fill their cars with gas to get them back and forth to the hospital, to keep their home running since neither of them could work, and to give their girls some sort of Christmas.

Shelli was writing to our small group of friends today and was feeling very frustrated that their old van had broken down on her way home from the hospital (she had taken Emma in to Omaha..an hour away..for some therapy) and would cost $600 to fix. That's $600 they don't have. As it is they still owe thousands simply for the funeral and headstone for Nate. She was not asking for a dime, but rather simply sharing her frustration in not being able to take Emma to her appointments in Omaha tomorrow.

Shelli comes from a small town outside of Omaha - Fremont, Nebraska. Her cousin has set up a donation page at themillers.sneakydave.com that all of us have donated to.

My goal is to get Shelli's story out there and see just how strong the power of people who want to help can be. People don't need to donate hundreds of dollars, but if everyone gave SOMETHING, it would be enough. The only way this can happen is if people know. Please, tell Shelli's story. Nate's story. Please.

Our weekend adventure

I have no idea what we did on Friday, but on Saturday, we set out to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium. We dawdled and left a bit later than I'd planned, but it put us in San Jose about lunchtime, so I texted Liz & Andrea and Sue & Sarah. Liz & Andrea could make it, so we headed to their house (and saw the nice new gardenwork!) and then to La Villa for raviolis.

But raviolis were not to be had. (Perhaps this was a sign of impending doom. No crack ravs???) Family business means 'sometimes they are closed.' Went to Willow Street Wood-fired Pizza, except that only G got actual pizza (but the "best ever" Hawaiian pizza anyway!). I got La Villa ravs (!!) but in a red cream sauce that was pretty darn rich. (Didn't stop me from finishing it.) G and Val did a great job sharing the crayons for coloring their menus, yeah!

As we went in, Andrea noticed a long gash in one of my tires that I hadn't seen. She reminded me as we left (good thing, as I'd already forgotten) and I took it across the street to get the spare put on. As I was waiting for them to get to it, I walked around the car and spotted another tire with a gouge in it. I've never had a blowout (knock wood) and don't want to get one, so I asked the guy where the nearest Costco was. He gave good directions and we got there pretty quickly, waving to the Happy Hollow Zoo as we went past.

After buying four new tires for less than the previous set cost, we went into Costco to pass the time and buy some things I'd been meaning to get anyway (stupid printer won't print with an empty ink cartridge, wtf!). They were pretty much done when we finished and went back to the tire center. It was now 4:12PM. I asked the guy how long it would take to drive to Monterey from there, since it was south San Jose and seemed like it could be rather close. "I think you could make it in 45 minutes if there's no traffic," he lies. "We could have a whole hour at the Aquarium!" I'm thinking. (We have loaned passes, so it would still be worthwhile.)

I load up our purchases and we head off. We pull into the parking garage at 5:25; the museum closes at 6. Well, we did get to see the otters, the jellyfish, the big tank (love those giant Sunfish), and G got to see the sea cucumbers, even though the volunteer flatly refused to bring them into the touch pool for him to touch them. (This, after I said it was the one creature he had been waiting to see! "There he is," is all we could get. Um, thanks.)

We were ushered out of the Aquarium, feeling pretty hungry by now. I have decided to splurge a bit and have dinner in Monterey. We do a little shopping and end up in front of Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. G has never seen the movie, so all the references are right over his head (the children's menu has a bunch of trivia questions based on the movie). But they had a "Run Forrest Run" drink that he loved, and I had mahi mahi that was absolutely delicious.

Afterward, we went into a little corner store and both found watches we liked (his with sports balls all over it, and mine a hinged-band watch that doesn't bug my wrist). He is finally learning to tell time on analog clocks. I swear they started this in preschool (and I'm still not great at it!).

Then we headed home, nearly in a stupor, we were so tired.

Sunday, we showed up late to church. I wish we'd been earlier; our minister was giving a really interesting sermon about the magi/wise men/kings, likening their gifts to calm, support, and soothing. I really liked the imagery.

From there, we went to Bed, Bath & Beyond to buy a new digital timer that is dedicated to video game timing. I'll set it to 7 hours on Sunday morning, and whenever it runs out, G's video game time is up for the week. This makes me feel better about his game time, and he really seems to be getting it.

I met up with my fellow knitters at the library that afternoon, and we had the biggest group we'd had so far, with 5. I knit and chatted, and G read a Berkeley Breathed book someone had left behind. From there, we went to a Regifting Extravaganza party, where you bring the things you got from crazy Aunt Marge and would never use, and go home with a box of beer bread mix, a cool Santa ornament, and a jar of tart cherry jam. (OK, I don't have an Aunt Marge, but the other things are true.) Fun!

LOLCATS page of the day

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2007/12/26/funny-pictures-ur-flavr-it-hurtz-me/

It is so funny, it hurts me.