Only one wag bag

Your dad's name was Kahoochie Creek Kramer. Your mom, Trader's Flying Arrow.

Yet, we settled on something simple: Peanut.

It was all by circumstance. Married just four months, Daddy and I had a simple Saturday breakfast at the Waffle House. A trek to the Melbourne Square mall afterwards, just days after Thanksgiving. A walk into Puppies Plus. I'd always been a fan of Jack Russell terriers, thanks in part to the PBS series "Wishbone" (how could an English major resist a JRT with a sense of humor AND a passion for literature?) and the wiry little rascal Eddie on "Frasier." So I kind of always had my eye out for one of you.

And then, our eyes met.

A little white and reddish furball in a tiny crate. The cutest face I'd ever seen. And then the thought, "Let's just hold her a bit."

That's all it took.

Bird's iView

I remember when I first met my husband back in the early '90s. Cell phones were pretty much an anomaly, and anyone who had one commanded a certain amount of awe.

He was one of them.

I can't recall if it was the brick-in-the-bag variety or the one he eventually graduated to (a "car phone," per se, as that little analog treasure of bolts was wired into his car and mounted, complete with the curly cue cord). But it seemed pretty cool at the time. I didn't even have a cell phone till about 1998, and I questioned if I could handle the technology and yearlong service commitment.

Twelve years of marriage and two kids later, the man hates service contracts and swears by the simple, pay-as-you-go phone. Getting him to turn on his ringer would be akin to the second coming of Christ, and I've pretty much given up trying to text-message the man. He rarely answers.

The kids and I are another story.
  

Sleepless with some Seagram's

I am a sucker when it comes to romance.

No, I don't read those ridiculous books with the Fabio-like men on the cover. But, sorry -- some of those rom-coms get me. As do real-life stories.

It's funny, because I look at couples who have been together for a long time and sometimes forget that their story, too, has a beginning.

Spilling the Santa beans

I just spent 90 minutes wrapping Christmas gifts, and I'm sweating like I've been speed-walking. I've also come to the realization that I'm ready to make a major confession.

I think I'm ready to tell my daughter the Santa secret.

The essence of Jake (AKA "Why I drink")

Since we live 1,200 miles away from the bulk of our family, when the holidays roll around, we try to do photo Christmas cards. The first few years, it was Tony and me and the dogs.

Thirteen years later, the dogs no longer make the cut. It's enough trying to get two bickering siblings to cooperate a forced smile in tandem. Add the parents, an attempt at non-clashing clothes and an appealing backdrop, and you're asking for it.

These are a few of my unfavorite things

I love Christmas. The decorations. The music. Embracing the enormity of the real reason behind it. And the opportunity to get together with family and friends we haven't seen for a while.

But it also ushers in a whole bunch of stress.

Cruising for trouble

Sometimes I feel like this is what life has been saying to me lately.

I don't think the kid is purposely flipping me the bird -- he shouldn't even KNOW what it stands for -- but this is the snapshot I got during our first night at dinner aboard the brand new Mickey boat. A boat he had no clue he was even going on until the very day we got on it.

But let me back up.

It's been a weird few months, and I haven't been feeling like myself.

Layoffs at work have been looming for well over a year. We knew there would be some consolidation, we'd have to reapply for employment and had time to kind of mentally prepare for it. But it was still a bit anxiety-provoking to know I might not have a job (like anyone else in America feels any differently right now) shortly. But I was fortunate enough to be rehired, which was a great relief. But in the meantime, I watched people leave who have become a second family of sorts have to walk out the door, which really sucked. It's difficult to be happy for yourself when others have a rough road ahead of them. That was hard to watch.

But with the new job came a whole new system to learn. Strange to go from knowing how to navigate a program to starting from scratch again. I saw a side of myself I really hadn't seen in years -- frenzied. And I didn't like it.

And then, there's that death thing. Seems like more and more people Tony and I know have been meeting an early demise. And it's really eating at me. Even if I don't know them personally. One of my best friends lost her husband to cancer last year and has been thrust into the role of a single mother. A few friends of Tony's from way back when have suddenly died.  I tried to find my favorite teacher from high school on Facebook and learned he is no longer with us. And then one that left me feeling especially strange -- Tony's ex. What an odd call to receive on a random Sunday morning -- your mother-in-law phoning to tell you your husband's former love interest died at 44 of cancer. That was an odd message to relay.

Needless to say, this stuff has left me unsettled.

But we'd had a family vacation planned. A surprise. We were taking the kids on Disney's new cruise ship, the Dream. We'd been planning it for 10 months (crossing our fingers I'd still have a job, and thinking we'd just eat the security deposit if I didn't). It was a surprise (otherwise, we'd be asked about it every 15 minutes). All we hear about the ships are rave reviews. "Your kids will never want to leave to kids club," people told us. "You'll get on the ship and not see them until it's time to leave."

Not that that was the plan. But the thought of family fun during the day and a little couple time at night sounded like just what we needed.

Of course, a mere 6 days before, one of the kids comes down with stomach woes.

REALLY?

I made every deal with the devil, disinfected every doorknob, faucet, toilet, anything. And just prayed.

Luckily, all ailments were resolved far before the cutoff deadline for boarding the ship. But I was sweating it.


So, the day came, and Mickey called the house to fill the kids in shortly before we were to leave. (I had stealthily packed the suitcases and prayed no one noticed half the closet was MIA.) I guess I was expecting screaming, jumping up and down. But it was more like a look of shock.


Okaaayyyy....

We got on the ship, were mesmerized by its beauty and were totally pumped for the best family vacation ever.

Then we get on the elevator. And my son impresses us with a trick we've never seen before. He puts his hand on the elevator door as it's opening. And his fingers, along with the sliding door, slip into the pocket.
In our horror, we pried them out and we listened to his howls.

A bag of ice and TLC later, we seemed to be on the mend. But I didn't like the note we'd started off on.

So when we were on one of the upper decks, I suggested Tony take a photo of me and the kids. He agreed. So, I put my freshly poured, cruise ship beverage down, off to the side, and hand him my iPhone. Of course, in the process, his size 12 foot mistakes it for a soccer ball and sends a passion margarita and ice in every direction possible.

I no longer wanted a picture.

And then, as we're leaving port, our youngest decides he hates life for the moment and won't wave to the landlocked.

That was followed by a snit fit at dinner...

An attitude about having to breathe the same air as a sibling...

And hating so-called paradise...

There were also fights over the bunk beds, threats that if immediate wants were not granted "I'm gonna jump off the boat," and having the only two children in the world who do not want to take part in the kids club. There was also no interest in taking photos with the characters.

Sometimes, one unnamed chap even ran away and spent some time sitting on a flight of stairs until Mom or Dad tracked him down. And a couple of kids I know put up a fight because, dammit, they wanted to sit in the balcony-veranda suite and watch cartoons from 50 years ago ALL DAY LONG.

So much for that couple time.

They did come around. We were able to talk them into going to the kids club on the last night (talk about worrying your coach was going to snap back into a pumpkin). And we did love pretty much everything about what that cruise line has to offer -- the food, the ambiance, service, shows, clubs. Mickey does not disappoint. Talk about a first-class experience. I've fallen hard.

For an encore, I even left my brand-new workout shoes that I'd choked up a wad of cash for (they'll inspire me to exercise more, I told myself). The kicker? I hadn't even WORN them during the trip.

But, on a whim, I called the cruise line. They had a lost and found, but my shoes weren't there. They'd check when the ship came back, they said. How would I describe them?

I rattled off some details, but prepared to buy a new pair -- or just wear my old ratty ones. But a couple of days later, I got a phone call. They found those suckers and were shipping them to me.



Guess vacations are just kind of like life.

Far from perfect.