Ocean View from Campsite Marbella Costa Rica

Looking into our luxury camp. Note the dryness, at least we broke the Godfrey curse of rain every single time we have ever camped.

Ben getting kindling for the fire.

As always, camp pets.

As always, Camp Queens.

Camping has been a part of our family for years, as you can see from some of my past posts (Ninilchik Camping, Homer Camping) I can still feel the anticipation and despair as we packed to prepare, assembling the tents to make sure they are whole, anticipating the rain and cold with extra clothes, socks and blankets. I can still feel that morning chill on my face as I psyched myself up to get out from my sleeping bag and start a post of coffee. I can still feel my body shivering just a touch as I slowly emerged from the tent in the morning, striving to keep all my parts dry, knowing once wet always wet. I can still smell the smokiness of the damp fire and hear the hard crackle of the wet wood drying. It was invigorating, tiring and a fun family activity. It was never luxurious, seldom relaxing, always dirty and always memorable, and that’s what camping is about, memories. In that aspect it never failed.

Kassie getting ready for some soccer

Jake and Kassie hanging out at the beach

Jake in action

Some Marbella combers

I remember awakening to a tent full of water and slugs. I remember wives mad because we left early to fish. I remember finding a hotel for night number two. I remember our food and fish being stolen during the night. I remember catching Silvers, Kings and Reds, cleaning them and worrying about bears. I remember seeing bears in camp. I remember back aches, side aches and longing for a real bathroom. I remember taking a crying dog out for a walk at 3 am in the pouring rain. I remember shooting stars, a smoke-filled tarp and rain, there was always rain. I remember watching the kids run, play, explore, fish and swim and loving every second of it. Camping is never short on memories.

Thinking about getting barreled, or getting crushed.

Night time ambience

Sun setting, fun beginning.

Lyle rocking out the electric guitar for the kiddos.

Well we started a new type of camping this year, Costa Rica camping. Unlike Alaska camping, the packing consists mostly of food and extra swimwear. Instead of rising at the crack of dawn to fish, we rise to surf. Instead of huddling by the fire, we seek shelter from the sun and seek a stiff breeze. Instead of worrying about bears we worry about snakes and spiders and small creepy things. It is a new adventure and already it has created memories.

Are you sure that was a hot dog?

The glow of the sun looks like a deep orange fire radiating through the trees.

A common sight at a Costa camp, the surfboard. Unfortunately, this is the last known photograph of this board while it was still alive.

Memories of forgetting tent poles for the big tent. Memories of thinking we brought the queen air mattress only to find out it was the single. Memories of forgetting the power cord ( yes we camp with power in Costa Rica) for the breakfast griddle. Memories of sunburn, salty skin and crazy dangerous surf. Memories of sleeping in a running car all night to circulate air. Memories of a surf that was much too big for me, pounding me over and over to the bottom of the ocean and snapping a friends fiery red board in half.

God wishing us a goodnight.

It left us with the eternal memories of the kids, running, hiding, playing, eating smores, singing ,skim boarding, boogie boarding and just having fun. It was different, but the results were the same. Memories, more and more memories. Hopefully, as they grow the kids will recall these trips and smile as they recall all the good times they had with friends and family, unaware of the pain and suffering mom and dad endured to create these memories. And as the memories of the back aches, lack of sleep and bug bites disappear and are overcome by the flood of good memories, smores, fires, kids playing and laughing, only then will we prepare for our next camping trip, this time with tent poles, air mattess and the proper power cords.

some traditions can never go away! Speedy Buns Rule!!!

If you could only smell the finished product, your keyboard would be drenched in drool.

do you see any pies on this dessert table?

Furthermore, as I stated before, Costa Rica obviously does not celebrate Thanksgiving, so it was just a normal day. No festivities, lots of people at the beach, surfing, swimming, shopping etc. etc. Just like every other day. It appears that they did have their version of Black Friday in San Jose, but it was limited to a few stores. Besides it’s not really Black Friday if you aren’t freezing to death waiting to get inside the store. And 50% off of “way to expensive” is not really that great of a deal. However, I took the time to teach our friend and guard how to say Happy Thanksgiving in English, and told him to tell every Americano he sees. Within an hour he was stuffed. After two days he told me “too much Happy Thanksgiving” signaling that he could not eat another bite, as he held up yet another meal on a paper plate. It may take some time, but I will soon teach him the ways of the over indulging Americanos.

Now this looks traditional. It was very yummy as well!

Dave Olsen keeping the kids happy. There are no fiestas in Costa Rica without a Pinata.

one view of BCC with over 100 guests. Note BCC Feud playing on the screen.

another view.

Kassie patiently waiting for food.

Mom and Alli waiting to eat.

Kids table playing the feud.

So we had fun, but it wasn’t the traditional frenzied weekend that we have become accustomed to loving. It was quite relaxing, maybe a little too Pura Vida for our American souls.  Perhaps over time we will change our view of Thanksgiving and become accustomed to wearing t-shirts and shorts, and spending the evening watching the sunset on the beach, as we did this year. Perhaps that will be our new tradition. One thing for sure, no matter what, next time there must be pie.

Here are some shots of our Thanksgiving late afternoon and evening at Flamingo Beach.

Jeremy waiting on one last wave

Jake and KassieKassieFlamingo

Dad and Dorian having a Thanksgiving boogie board battle.

Jeremy and Dad battling it out

Kassie

Alli searching for jewelry prospects.

Flamingo Breaker

Ben working hard on Thanksgiving for a wave with all that extra turkey weight.

Ben

Dad swimming hard

Never spent Thanksgiving in the Pacific Ocean before.

a rock star from NOW, an American army guy, and a flapper

Ben from "Not of the World" Note the tat.

Jeremy and his first victim of the night.

Ben and Brockzilla, two rock stars from different sides of the track, not standing out at all in a packed La Paz gym.

There is a pretty large contingent of Ex-Pats in this area, and they hold on to their American / Canadian traditions very strongly, as we are quickly learning. If there is a slight reason to celebrate or party, they will gather in droves. Superbowl, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Columbus Day, doesn’t matter, if it connects them to home, they embrace it. Halloween, other than being a floating holiday is no different.

our flapper girl

Kassie and Jake harvesting some subsistence candy.

In the area we live there are three primary english schools, La Paz, Country Day, and Gold Coast Academy. All three private schools, all full of Americans, Canadians and French ( don’t ask me). All three of them held festivities on Friday night.

Livy in her award-winning costume, the one in white.

all about the candy

Our evening began right at sunset; humidity still thick in the air, the hot night air enveloping those in monkey suits, ghost sheets and more. I saw more sweat stains than at a July jalapeno chili bake in Texas. We hit La Paz first, the school had a special area for candy gathering, and it seems every english speaking kid in the country was there, adding to the humidity. As we weaved our way through the blue mat maze of on-air conditioned classrooms, we were met by princess’s, gold people, Lego’s and many more homemade costumes. There is no Wal-Mart, so creativity had to be high. Although sheer torture for the camera wielding adults caught in the never-ending snake of children, it was fun for the kids as their bags weighed down under the girth of the mixed tico candy. The school also had a small haunted house, and a gym full of games for the kiddos with prizes and awards. To top it off they had a bake sale and hamburgers and hotdogs off the grill. It was an all out event that required traffic control and parking on an empty over grown lot next to the school.

still waiting in line for some more loot.

Like, who's this creeper pretending to be Shaggy? ( a good friend, the real creeper is over his right shoulder)

Next we made our way to Country Day School, where they had a similar event going on. However, their highlight was the haunted house, and that is what we set our sights on, at least those of us brave enough to endure the close tight humid quarters. As we made our way through the draping of dark plastic we were assaulted by every creature imaginable from every angle, our feet, our heads, straight on, they were everywhere, and it appears that they were heavily dehydrated. It was a fun adventure with blue lights, water , at least we hope it was water, and much more. And talking to some of the creatures afterward, it was labor intensive, hot and draining, but they did not complain, instead they did their best to elicit screams and cries, and I am sure I heard a few, even from within our own party. Again, there were games for the kids, bake sales and some BBQ pork sandwiches. Lots of decorations, and balloons that were getting heavily assaulted by anyone under 4 foot tall.

no parking on the dance floor baby!

We finished the evening as chaperones at the Freaky Tiki, and event semi-coordinated by Alli as the event planner for her school. The event was made for the older kids as a costume dance event. Now I don’t know what qualifies as a good dance, but if it is a bloody red pool and fountain, lots of sweaty kids dancing all together, loud never-ending music, pizza and very loud never-ending music, then this was a successful dance. Again, it seems every english speaking kid from every local school was there. Apparently things have changed form when I used to go to dances. In my day you asked a girl to dance, you went out to the floor together and danced next to your buds, making funny faces and did your best to be cool. What we witnessed was just a  glob of people all dancing together. I never did see two people dancing. The smallest group was six. However, I could’ve been hallucinating because between the unbearable thumping, heat, strobe light, and extra curricular lightning storm, I am not totally sure what we witnessed. But I am pretty sure there were no nefarious on goings nor any grinding going on during our watch! The dance went from 7-11 and was thumping the whole time.

a pool of blood surrounded by tombstones.

The fountain of blood, created by Mr. S. the demented.

strobe light limbo.

It was pretty much packed like this the whole night.

The freaks come out at night.

I have never been so exhausted after a Halloween night. I am convinced that we met every Ex-Pat in the area on that Friday night, even the ones without kids. And the best part, Halloween is tonight. I have no idea what to expect, but we will be prepared with some melted chocolates for our little prettys, just in case. Can’t wait to see what Thanksgiving will be like. I plan to get a nap before that one.

Well I have found the same truth sometimes in a song. Sometimes just a genre of song will bring me right back to high-school, my mullet, thin stache, jean jacket and Air Jordan’s. Instantly I feel younger and energetic. Sometimes it can be a specific song. I still remember after I bought Tracy’s engagement ring. I was so excited and nervous, again with the mullet, thin stache…… that I just couldn’t keep it in my pocket. I still remember to this day as I was driving back to campus in my 86 Black Pontiac Firebird with the reticulating headlights stuck in up mode, dark tinted windows and spoiler aiding the critical aerodynamics of the superb driving machine. Surprisingly, there was very little traffic in that dark warm evening in Springfield Missouri, and thanks to my leather driving gloves, I was able to drive a little faster than usual. I turned up the radio, a smile locked onto my face and the song that was playing was from 38 special. A song, prior to that day, that I thought was okay, but definitely not my top style, definitely not my favorite, and probably not appropriate for the moment, but a good song. Yet, on that day it became one of those special songs that takes me back to that night over and over, every time I hear it.

Or even (gasp, do I even dare admit this?) Milli Vanilli. You see it was only one of about six CD’s Tra and I had for our drive from Anchorage back to Missouri to school. So it was well used, over and over and over; girl you know it’s true. So now every single time I accidentally hear a Milli Vanilli song, I am transported back to that Nissan Pathfinder and the four-day drive. However, I don’t think that CD ever found the inside of a CD player after that trip.

It happened again, just a few days ago. I was driving out of Anchorage, just leaving a couple of days of work meetings, meetings where I had just turned in my two-week notice. I had a piping hot Americano, no hair, a very conservative Chevy Trailblazer, and like always from May to August, a ton of traffic on the Seward Highway heading out of Anchorage. It didn’t matter to me though, because my head was elsewhere, not on my driving or the traffic, or the two and half hour drive ahead. Instead I kept thinking over and over, what did I just do? Was I sure about this? Is this right? I had these tiny little doubts creeping deep into my pyschi, and I didn’t like it. My iphone was not plugged into the car, so I turned on the radio which happened to be on 88.5, and a song had just come on. It was a song I had never heard, a song I probably would’ve never noticed, but instantly it caught my attention, and without thinking I twisted the black knob to the right to confirm what I was hearing. Again, not my style of music, again not a song that would’ve ever ended up on any of my playlists, but at the right time in the right situation it was perfect. The lyrics I heard said, ” When the waves are taking you under, hold on just a little bit longer, he knows this is going to make you stronger, stronger”. Those lyrics slapped me like a flounder across the face, snapped me out of a funk and erased the temporary doubt that was trying to cloud my hope. I will admit, although I was driving at max speed limit, I was still able to download that song before Girdwood and play it over and over again on my drive home to prepare for our last month in Alaska.

road trip scenes

Cook Inlet Turnagain Arm

Tern Lake

Now our road trips are just a touch different; Get through all the days appointments, PLAN for two days, pack for you the kids and for every contingency under the winter sun, take care of the dog, take care of the cars and leave about 2 hours later than planned, with no pickled red-hot sausage for dad because a 40-year-old gut can’t handle it. But  probably the biggest difference is the purpose. In college, the purpose was not usually well-defined and sometimes not well intended. Now there is a purpose. Perhaps for a shopping trip, a family visit, or just some family time.

This past weekend we went out on one of our road trips to attend a family function. When my family has a function it is usually not an intimate thing. This time it was to congratulate my brother on graduating from law school and to celebrate my grandmother’s 81 (0r 82) birthday. After four years of working a full-time job and taking classes my brother was finally able to graduate with his law degree and take his bar exam, all while getting fantastic grades. We are very proud of him, and we just hope he doesn’t bill us when we call him, because he can be a little long-winded at times and we don’t have that kind of money.

A small portion of the gathering, Dorian, Jeremy, Jennifer, Brad and Wyatt

Brad " is that one of my kids crying or one of the 30 other kids?"

Just one of the kid's tables

These ones couldn't find a table

Grandma, well she keeps plugging along. She is the type of grandma that acts about 1/3 her age. My kids love being around her  because she is so much fun, In fact Ben just did a road with her to Homer and he said he was laughing the whole time; it was his best road trip ever. So maybe she acts more like a 1/7 her age. Whatever it is I have learned that the older you get the younger you act the younger you will feel.

The adults beginning to gather after the cow bell for dinner was rung.

Olivia, Alli, Dorian, Tim and a whole slug of other eaters

Gerad about 1/2 hour into his thank you speech, with Deb and Grandma looking on.

The event itself was just that, lots of puroke, potato salad, turkey and desserts; new family members introduced, stories were shared, relationships rekindled, people were honored, and all were fed well. It was awesome. There were approximately 57 people in attendance. I could not give an exact number because approximately 30 of those people were under the age of 14 and they didn’t stand still long enough to be counted. We ended up having a grand time seeing family members we had not seen in years, and some new ones we had never seen. Unfortunately we were unable to stay as long as we would’ve liked, perhaps next time I will skip that pickled red-hot sausage on the drive over.

The Eve of Christmas Eve gathering.

Jo on the eve of Christmas eve gets a visit from Glanta

Jo concentrating for the 32 seconds it took for her to open pressies.

Jake loving the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service

nephew Levi sporting a tie at church

This year Mom invited us back to Anchorage to celebrate Christmas at her house. Considering that this may be our last Christmas in AK for a while, we accepted. This changes things a little. You see my mom does not do small and relaxing. My mom does big and grand. So I knew there would be excessive food and excessive people. Further, we had to load up the van with all the gifts and all the gear required for a Christmas weekend.

Action!

Jace n Jake sporting their Jammies

ripping time

Kassie and Callie and their American Girls. Too many women for me!

Now this is more my speed!

Upon arrival I quickly learned that I was not wrong, nor was I disappointed, there were about a dozen pies, several turkeys, lots of sides, home-made egg nog ( another of my favorite cholesterol fat inducing traditions) french onion soup and yes my french dip. Christmas eve included a candle light service ( and no Shine Jesus Shine) with an exchanging of a few gifts. The house was full of food, fun and folks. It went very well with a relatively early bed time. Christmas Day was another story.

Nana's girls posing for her Christmas present

Callie, Tiara, Kassie, Olivia, Alli and Bella

It started well, we slept in until we could her our little nephews and nieces pitter pattering around the house. Tracy and I eventually made our way downstairs clothed in our traditional Christmas Jammies. I should haveknown it was going to be a little off day when I went to make a cup of coffee and the Kuerig was stingy with the water. Something was amiss. Desperate, I ran a solution of vinegar and water through the system, to no avail. Glenn without his traditional cup of Christmas morning sludge is unacceptable to most and unbearable to all. So after cleansing the system I tried again. It dribbled out about 8 ounces of joe, at least it was something. However one sip let me know that the system was still full of vinegar as I puckered in disgust looking for a place to spit my sip, the definition of a sourpuss. It never did give up any acceptable joe.

Kinect Action

uncle Brad showing us how its done. He beat daddy in track and field.

So we decided to start the gift opening, with no coffee. Unfortunately we did not calculate the time it would take with the extra four openers in the flock. You see we open one present at a time, but we had 11 kids in the mix.  About 4 presents in we decided that everyone should open one present at a time, but in unison, adapt and survive. Perhaps I was impatient due to the lack O joe, but it seemed to be an effective and efficient method and by my calculations we would have been un-wrapping until New Year’s Eve.

Christmas in the dark

Christmas dinner in the dark.......

..... and charades in the dark, best you don't see what's happening here.

Once the presents were opened, Uncle Brad and I were off in search of coffee, of which we found a couple of smart stands open for business. Needless to say a big tip was in order. The afternoon did not fair any better as minutes into the frying of the turkey and prior to the cooking of the sides, the power went out. The same power that we lost on Thanksgiving ( and we later learned was lost on New Year’s Day). Do you think somebody may be bucking for some Holiday OT over at the Chugach Electric Company? Once again we improvised and brought the remainder of the food over to Val’s to cook, and made do with what was already done. The power stayed off until 3 am the next morning, so in the interim we slept ( okay I may have dozed off on the couch) ate, played charades, played cards, talked and sat by the fire in an attempt to stay warm. The poor kids had to wait forever to play their new electronic games, including the new Kinect which eventually dad and uncle Brad broke in for them. However, all in all it certainly was a Christmas to remember.

The day started with great service in church, and Tra leading the morning worship, which I thought was pretty great. Then again I may have some biases, but I think even Simon Cowell would agree with me. After church we ran home, well we actually drove home as it is about 15 miles away, and changed for lunch. Changed for lunch? You ask. Yes Change. I know we have our Sunday best on, but that is far too dressy for this fishing town. Further, our lunch was coming via a drive thru, and I don’t want anyone spilling ketchup or special sauce on their Sunday best.

Present Time!

Dude how do we end up here every year?

I don't know, but this is what Mother's Day is all about

So after changing we headed out the door to McDonald’s, and I must admit I was shocked to see it wasn’t packed. I mean it was Mother’s Day, people should be taking their mom’s out to chow, and let em pig out a little. I can’t think of anywhere better to pig out the McDonald’s. I guess we are just an exceptional family.

Jo and Amber with her 5th cup of coffee

Peyton chilling at mom's feet

I hope this is not one of my boys

Yes we did go to McDonald’s, but the reason is that we have developed a tradition over the last few years for Mother’s Day, and McDonald’s is a key part of that tradition. Once we get through the drive thru, which is no small feat when you are ordering for 10, then we head south to Homer.

For the last three Mother’s Day we have driven to Homer to spend the day after church. We shop, play on the windiest beach in America, go to the park, and eat, after Mickey D’s wears off.

I smell trouble

Throughout the day you rarely see mom without her camera. I don’t know how we survived before digital cameras. I would have to budget 1/3 of our income just to buy and process film. I truly think her favorite part of the trip is to take pictures all day long. So we let her snap away, posing as she wishes, and gritting our teeth to keep them from chattering.

Mom and Jo

Mom and Jake

Ben with his slave

monkey boy

Finally, when we get to my favorite part, the food, we actually eat at a sit down restaurant, with tablecloths, silverware and waiters. This year we went with a whole bunch of friends, so we were a party of 22, and man our waitress at Fat Olives was very excited to see us. I mean she yelled the whole time we were there. Stuff like ” that’s impossible”, “We absolutely cannot do that”, ” We don’t do separate checks” for a minute I thought she was going to take Angie out, but Amber had her back. She was great, and made for fun conversation! I’m guessing she was a mom and her family didn’t take her to McDonald’s.

Ben's present, and he paid for it all himself

Jo beaching it

Sisters

Kassie the kollector

I can't say who the old guy on the swing is

But even with our cheery, loud, New York accented, negative waitress, we still managed to have a great time. But what made the day best for Mother Tracy was that Jo got to go with us. And not just for Mother’s Day, but the whole weekend! You can’t get a gift better than that, unless you count the “clunky” jewelry the kids picked out for her. So my advice to you husbands and sons out there, if you want to have a great Mother’s Day, start it with some McDonald’s to go,  there is never a wait on Mother’s Day.

Angie and her brood

8/10 of Tra and Glenn Make 10

the log of dough, not so appetizing in this form

Peppernuts have a very distinct smell, a spicy, ginger snap odor that when heated, fills the house and instantly screams Christmas. The only time we have peppernuts is Christmas time, and we have a lot of them. Mom, or now Tra will make a 10 pound log of peppernut dough, wrap it in Saran wrap, and store it in the fridge. Then, when the urge strikes there will be a rolling party. The rolling is the forming of the peppernut cookie, and it almost always involves a group of kids, gathered around the kitchen taking quarter size pieces of the dough into their thoroughly washed hands, and then rolling them in their palms until they form a perfect circle. Then the ball is placed on a cookie sheet, evenly ( not so much) spaced and ready for cooking. Once placed in the oven, magic happens. The cookies come out dark brown and shaped like a teeny dome, rock hard and perfect.

Shyla wants in on this peppernut rolling party

I wonder if Alli knew there was a camera near?

“A rock hard cookie?” I hear you screaming. But that is the beauty of the peppernut. It is not meant just to plop in your mouth, although that is quite enjoyable that way, but it is meant to be dunked. It is an activity food, like the fondue of cookies.

This is where the memories come in. I remember, as a child, the kitchen full of baking goodies, a fresh batch of peppernuts, and the four of us kids sitting around the table dunking our peppernuts in warm milk.I remember many times, me with my warm milk, grandpa or my dad with his coffee and cream ( enough cream sometimes that it looked like milk) sitting together at the table dunking peppernuts. There is something so perfect about the mixed aroma of peppernuts and coffee. I remember, year after year being taught the proper way to dunk and then eat a peppernut, even though by age 10 I considered myself an expert. Yet I never interjected, I just sat and watched the same presentation I had seen the year or week before, enjoying every minute of it.

brown buttons

a mound of heaven and spices

Now you can’t just throw them in the milk, there is a definite skill involved. You see the dome shape is made for dunking. the flat part of the cookie should be on the top of your dunking medium of choice, and you should let it sit there until it just about looses its buoyancy, and slowly began to sink. At that exact moment, you save it from the grasp of the certain death, and gently slide your spoon under the treat. IF you wait just a second too long, the dome will sink, and recovery of an intact cookie is as rare as the Godfrey home with no kids in it. Unless, of course you have years of training and skills, much like myself. More often than not, the sunk cookie will disintegrate, leaving chunks of mush in your beverage, which is pleasant for no one. But if you do it right, then from the cup, to your mouth, memories in cookie form.

getting ready for a dunk in some hot coffee, with hardly any milk in it.

the drop

Perfect time for the retrieval! I can smell the mixture of ginger, cinnamon, coffee and pure yumminess.

So there is very little that makes me happier than coming home from work and seeing my family gathered around the kitchen counter rolling peppernuts as fast as their little hands can move. I become instantly excited that soon I will be sitting at the table, dunking peppernuts and explaining for the dozenth time the essence of the perfect dunk to anyone who will listen, and even to those that won’t. Although I am sure they think they are experts.

oops, guess I'll have to eat the ones I spilled. Good thing they are carb, fat, and sugar-free!

The 24 hour salad before dinner was served.

My main issue with it is celery. Why in the world is there celery in a gelatin dish? Then combine that with nuts. I don’t know about you, but it takes a lot for me to eat Jello with fruit in it, that is about the extent of the texture I enjoy in my gelatin. When you put nuts and celery in it, it is akin to drinking milk with chunks, your throat will not accept it. Believe me, I have tried. Yet year after year there it sits, usually right in front of me ( very funny mother). It always makes its way to the main table, because if it was on the buffet line no one would take it.

The 24 hour salad after dinner

However, I must admit I am comforted by it. If it was gone, I would miss it, and would ask about it and I would insist it be made, or we could just pull out the original batch from 19?? buried deep inside the deep freeze. Either way, I wouldn’t eat it, but I need it to ground me and to be the tradition that will unite Thanksgiving from 19?? to eternity, for that’s how long it last. Oh, I know you are wondering why it is called 24 hour salad, well I have several theories: 1. That’s how long it takes to make it. 2. That’s how long it takes to gain the courage to eat it. 3. That’s how long it takes to chew it. We accept all other answers or thoughts in the comments section.

I am not trying it, you try it! Where's Mikey?

four turkeys ( five if you count Sean) and no 24 hour salad. It has to be on the main table.

Now imagine trying to take a vacation. Just finding 10 seats is daunting, but then try and use your handy-dandy super simple companion fare in combination with you Alaska Airlines miles and find the cheapest fare. This always leads to a conversation with a ticket agent ( yes they still exist, near extinction, but those still alive have managed to maintain the skills their ancestors have passed down to them)explaining my fate and frustration of attempting to bring it all together. The result is always at least two separate flights. Two long separate flights arriving several hours apart, and arriving late, always.

Traveling is definitely a chore for a family our size, but it is almost always worth it. Our last family trip was to Orlando, and the end result was great, even though it did involve two travel teams changing planes twice each way and going through different cities and arriving at different times. I think it must be somewhat like childbirth. You forget the crying, the vomiting ( in the aisle of the plane), the nasty smells ( usually sitting by the bathroom) and the kicking and screaming in desire of breaking free from captivity, and then you have worry about the kids too. But alas, all that goes away as soon as you lay your head on the lounge chair by the pool.

I write this as we get ready to head to Anchorage for Thanksgiving, our yearly tradition. The kids love staying with Nana, going to the shootout, shopping, hitting up old Charles E. Fromage, and maybe even making an appearance at H2Oasis, a great place for a hairy old overweight man like myself to hang out. Alas, I have to keep this short because we are getting ready to leave and I need to open an Excel spreadsheet to figure out who is going to ride with who and who gets to bring what laptop, and who gets to sit in what seat, and where we will stop and potty, and where Tracy will want to stop and take some pictures…… oops we were suppose to leave an hour ago.

Have a great Thanksgiving weekend, and don’t forget to whom you are thankful.