The Godfrey Goonies
With a family our size, there have often been references to the Brady Bunch or Partridge Family. For those of you too young to recall, these were 70′s TV show icons. The Brady Bunch was cool, and they had some talent, especially in choreography:
But the one that I have often dreamed we were like was the Partridge Family. Here was a family that was a full band. They traveled the world, their misadventures shared through the magic of television. They had kids that sang ( David Cassidy), a kid that played the piano, a kid that played guitar, a seven-year old drummer, a five-year old tambourine player, and a mom that played the keyboard and tambourine. They would make the most wholesome teeny bopper pop music. See for yourself, if you dare.
Why I am writing about the Partridge family? Well, I thought maybe our family could be the next Partridge family. We only have one hurdle, and it’s a very small one; There are only 3 of us with any musical talent at all. Obviously we have other skills, like my surfing. But musically, Tracy & Ben can sing, and Livy can play the piano. Dont’ get me wrong, I sing a lot, and I sing loudly, just not well. Dorian hasn’t sung a note since he was three, Alli, well Alli tries hard, and she is an excellent dancer. Jeremy is learning to play the guitar, with a heavy emphasis on learning. Kassie, she is a very good smiler and gymnast, but I don’t know how much that would help us. Jake and Jo, well they actually sing a lot, but only when they think no one is watching, usually while going potty. So performing live could be an issue.
The reason I bring this up today is because, like they often do, my children surprised me with a performance. Now when they perform, they don’t sing or really do anything, they just dress up come find us, and do their best to look cool. This is the outcome:
The Godfrey Goonies, from left to right: Jammin Jerms, Krooning Kass, Bopping Benny, Lovely Liv, and their security guard, Jive Jake.
So for any of you talent agents out there, you can clearly see we have almost all the bases covered, a large family, a diverse family, awesome attitudes, fraught with misadventures, willing to travel, and THE LOOK! If Milli Vanilli could do it, why can’t we? I, as the manager of this up and coming band, or shall I say musical dynasty, can be contacted via the comments section. We look forward to performing, uhhh standing in front of you.
Happy Valentine’s & The Don’t Song.
I just received this video from my beloved brother-in-law. They have nothing better to do in North Pole than to surf youtube looking for good videos. Anyway, I thought it was extremely appropriate for Valentine’s Day and I thought I should share it with all of you. It contains sage advice, advice that should be heeded and cherished. They put the advice to music so that you will be able to sing along and remember it, much like the alphabet, which every DUI I ever dealt with had to sing to complete. So for you entertainment, education, and enjoyment I present to you The Don’t Song.
Back to life, back to reality
What is a vacation? Can you have a true vacation while still at home? I think not. I think vacations are getting away from all the daily things in your life; work , meetings, appointments, clubs, practices, and work. The problem with vacations is that they end. It is impossible to have a never ending vacation, because at some point it becomes your “reality” or your “life”.
Now we will admit, we missed our kids and we missed our friends, but if we could’ve found a way to bring them all back to us, we would have. You could’ve all lived in our vacation for a while, and much like a tootise pop, we would see how long it takes a vacation to turn into life. My guess, when the money runs out.
To close out our trip, I thought I would just post some of our favorite shots of our trip. People seem to like the pics ( or really resent them Scott L.!) and I will work on getting another video together. Shoot, last time it only took me a year, and then it will be time for another vacation.
Well I went ahead and did a quick photo video, it was easier. I apologize for the quality, but it was a quick video just so for your enjoyment. The second video, well that is for all the doubters; those that doubt a 41 year, stocky Alaskan can surf. You can hear the cheers from the hot female in the background.
Like a troubled bridge over waters
We had planned well, up early, sit by the pool for an hour or two, eat a little breakfast, say our goodbyes, then on the road to San Jose no later than 11 am. Plans are made to be altered.
Everything was on schedule, and as we were on phase three, heading out to breakfast, we heard a frantic knock at the door. It was Jane bearing news. The road to San Jose was closed, the only road to San Jose was closed. Yesterday two tankers had collided and exploded and blew up the road making it impassible to all traffic. The only other route was an additional 3 hours, for which we had not budgeted. So now we had a vital decision, eat breakfast or start looking for alternate plans, of course we chose breakfast, the most important meal of the day. During breakfast I was able to confirm that indeed the road was likely to be closed all day today. Not good. We ate quickly, not the way I prefer to enjoy my last Costa Rican meal. Then hurried to say goodbye to the Daniels.
As soon as we got back to the Casita , I frantically began skyping and typing to figure out another route or another flight. All avenues lead to a dead end, there were no other options or alternatives. During all this Tra was stuffing our bags full of all loose items strewn about the Casita. I noticed that I was drenched in sweat, even though we were sitting comfy in our AC casita.
Finally, we decided we would take the plunge and just pray it was not the portion of road we needed to cross. We quickly loaded up the gold Vitara, and pounded on the main door hoping to say our goodbyes. Alas, the only one home was Ara, no Josh nor Jane or Mia. But we could not wait, we were already behind schedule and now if there was any delay it could prove to be the fatal blow to our departure. We gave Ara all our love and remorsefully, we departed.Now I won’t say I was speeding or driving recklessly, but let’s just say even the locals were impressed with my ability to find the small openings in traffic and take advantage of them. Tracy, not so much. We figured our only hope was the new toll road that had just opened connecting Caldera to Escazu. After 37 years that road opened the Wed. prior to our depature, and it was reported to be much faster.
The first three hours went better than planned, I was in the zone, finding the passing lanes and becoming one with the road. The weather was perfect, like always, and the whole route was paved. Even the GPS seemed to be working a little more efficiently.
Knowing the wreck was on a bridge, but not which bridge Tracy pulled out the map and started counting possible bridges. One by one we passed bridge after bridge, and with each one our hopes rose. And then it happened, we started seeing a slowing of traffic and a slew of semis, seemingly stopped in the road, and they were.
It was 1:15 pm, our flight left at 6:20,we were told by the airlines that you must check in 2 hrs. prior to international flights. The problem was, we did not know how far ahead the broken bridge was, we did not know if it was open, we did not know how long the new route would take. We tried to remain calm, as we sat watching the minutes tick away. We spoke encouraging words to each other, or perhaps to ourselves , but inside we were panicked.
One very long hour later we sensed movement and slowly began creeping forward. The bridge, it turned out was only about 1 mile from us, and it was a mess. There was one lane open, the skeleton of the two tankers sat on trailers across the bridge. there were ambulances, policia and construction workers all over the place. The right side of the bridge was burned, bent, and mangled, yet semi after semi crossed, as did we.
It was now nearly three and we still did not know how far we had to go. I knew passing was futile , but I passed anyway, it made me feel better. Now if we could only find that new road.
Blindly we drove toward Caldera, expecting signs, perhaps even fireworks marking such a significant event. There were none. Yet we drove on trusting that our GPS. The problem with that, new roads don’t show up on the GPS. Even worse, when you put in a destination and your GPS thinks you are driving over meadows, pastures and mountains it gets really mad at you. By God’s grace we found our brand new toll road. As advertised, it was much faster. One small issue, where do we get off? Tra, using her instincts and an old-fashioned map made an educated guess which we took. After winding our way down a mountain and through several small towns we emerged in the midst of San Jose rush hour. By now we were really sweating the clock, and I still had to find a gas station. Finally, after several near misses on left turns, and the kindness of a couple of fellow Tico drivers, we pulled into the rental station, time; 4:45.
After an amazing ride put on by our shuttle driver, we pulled into the airport at 5:05, no way they would let us on the plane. But they did, shoot we even had time to get a couple pieces of Church’s Chicken, and a minute for the sweat to dry and my heart to calm down. We made it safely to Miami but you’ll have to wait to read about our misadventures there.
Written on my iPhone while driving to San Jose, so forgive the typos. Just kidding it’s from an airport somewhere.
Where the heck is Junquillal ( hoonk-a-lawl)?
As much as I love having the GPS, it is definitely not infallible. For instance, last week we wanted to check out a place called Junquillal. Junquillal is a nice little beach town south of Playa Flamingo. So we punch it in the GPS and off we go on another adventure. Little did we know the true adventure it would be. You see our GPS always looks for the “shortest” route, as that is the way I have programmed it. What the GPS does not take into consideration is the condition of the road. In this case, the shortest route was along the beach on a series of “roads” that appeared as a series of dashes on our old-fashioned map.
shells as far as the eye can see
shells, shells and more shells
a casa on the beach
It turns out these “roads” would be a challenge for an ATV, much less our Suzuki SUV. There were rivers and dips, and ruts, and trees and iguanas, and occasionally a dirt bike. Our top speeds were in the 25 kilometer range, and my patience was running very short. Every once in a while there was a small “road” that turned off from our “road” and towards the beach, and through the dust and jarred teeth, I was often tempted to turn down one to take a break and change the shocks out. After about 45 minutes, our GPS told me to turn right, and since I had blindly been following it for over and hour I listened.
Tra in beachcombers heaven
