Guess what he’s doing?

This is the true story of four family members who chose to get on a plane, rent a car, drive down the California coast and have their vacation documented.  Find out what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting real.

The Real World: Pacific Coast Highway

Day Seven: 

9:00am: Wake up and make the drive to Los Angeles. Do the obligatory Hollywood
Walk of Fame and take pictures outside Grauman’s Chinese Theater.  Text my cousin whom we will be staying with that night.  Recieve offer to go see his place of work.  Decide, YES!  We WILL go see his place of work as he is in the Movie Business and works for Sony and worked on the latest Spiderman movie and who knows who might be walking around his office probably Ethan Hawke or maybe even Chris Hemsworth and there is a good chance once they see me I will be Discovered.

3:00pm: Get directions to my cousin’s place of work.  He is a man of few words and even fewer instructions.  Get an address but not much more.  Drive to the address and ask parking attendant, “Is this Sony?”

“No, this is Netflix.”

Wonder if he is kidding or if you are going to miss your chance of becoming the next Mrs. Hugh Jackman.  Check address again.  After much confusion and name dropping, attendants let you through. Find out later cousin has switched jobs and no longer works for Sony and now works for Netflix Animation.  Wonder if asking Netflix people if you are at Sony is comparable to ordering a Big Mac at Burger King.

3:30pm: Enter offices and feel extremely important as you sign a disclosure. Tour the building. Look around for famous people everywhere you go but mostly just see people drawing.  Annoy family by asking animators lots of questions. Say no to all the snacks offered even though secretly you are hungry.  See no one famous.

4:30pm: Head to cousin’s house in Santa Clarita.

6:00pm: Reach cousin’s house.  Get dropped off while Ted goes back out to find a vision center to have a professional fix his glasses.  An hour later learn that it seems all vision centers in the tri-county area are closed for the evening.  Enjoy great night eating, swimming, and playing with nephews.

10:00pm: Go to bed.

Final Day!!  DISNEY!!

8:00: Get up and make the long trek to Disneyland.

11:00: Enter the park.  Look over and see that Ted is literally carrying his glasses with two hands out in front of him open-palmed like a treasured bar of gold.   Wish he had this much determination and persistence when it came to hanging up his coat and turning his socks right-side in before he throws them in the laundry.  Lose patience.  “Are you going to carry those around the entire day?  It’s going to be hard to go on rides like that.  Please put those AWAY!!”

Above: In line for a ride but still plugging away.

12:00pm: Stop and watch parade.  Notice this is a scaled-down parade consisting of random Disney characters walking down Main Steet waving and saying hello.  Cringe as you see Ted waving and trying to dance along with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in an attempt to be funny and embarrass us.  Take a few steps back so bystanders don’t think you are together.  Suddenly hear Ted calling to the Evil Queen, “Hey Queen, got any apples?” Mortified, look around for a hole to crawl into.  Watch teenage son move back toward you.  Listen as Evil Queen’s retorts, “I don’t give apples to peasants like you.” Hear crowd around you roar with laughter.

2:00pm: Notice that your kids are not interested in taking pictures with any characters anymore because they are too old, not even when you see Boba Fett.   When Fairy Godmother rounds the corner say, “Cool!  She must be a rare one!” Push your kids to go get a picture and start to walk toward the line that has formed to see her.  Feel elation quickly turn into confusion and panic as you see Ted barge his way through the line and shout, “Fairy Godmother!  These are the two wishes you granted for ME!!” pointing to kids.  Wonder how he has survived so far in the real normal world and almost die of embarrassment.  “Ted! GET IN LINE!” you say with clenched teeth and horror as you pull him away.  Realize Fairy Godmother must be a saint used to inappropriate impulsive dads accosting her as she finishes talking to someone and steps out of line to speak to your family.  Assume there is some sort of underground “Code Yellow” happening RIGHT NOW where characters have to follow secret protocol to usher the weirdos away.  Snap quick picture and RUN out of Fantasyland.

3:00pm: Stumble into Star Wars land. Walk into a droid making factory and realize that YOU CAN MAKE YOUR OWN DROID!!  Ummmm, YES kids, you CAN each make an R2 unit!!  Lead them over to the conveyer belt to pick their parts.  Look behind you for Ted and blink hard, not believing your eyes.  Apparently, because this is a droid factory (FAKE–FROM THE MOVIES BY THE WAY) someone thinks there should be lots of tools here and has approached Mustached Humanoid for help.  Notice with horror that HE IS TRYING TO USE A MOTORIZED DROID TOOL TO FIX HIS GLASSES.  Watch as he and the poor Galactic Republic Engineer walk together to the fictional memory flush station (I’m just guessing here) to assess the damage.  Alas, it seems even using the Tatoonie manufactured hydraulic protocol arm and spark projector could not do the trick.  Assist kids in their Highlight of Vacation 2019 while their dad attends to the Lowlight of Vacation 2019.

11:00pm: Leave Disneyland.

Above: Ted and the engineer work on his glasses with a motorized drill of some sort clearly too big for a prescription sunglasses screw.  

Below: After realizing the tool is not going to work they move to another station. 

Wake up the next day and fly home…

Where are they now??

Teddy and Franny got home and never played with their $100 droids again.

Ted left California with his glasses still broken. He finally managed to get them repaired when he got back to Illinois.  Even blurry, he enjoyed his vacation.

Samantha returned home and realized there really WAS enough material to write a blog.  Maybe even four blogs.

This is the true story of four family members who chose to get on a plane, rent a car, drive down the California coast, and have their vacation documented.  Find out what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting real.

The Real World: Pacific Coast Highway

Day Four:

9am: Wake up and spend morning on Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

12:00pm: Grab Starbucks and notice they give you a straw this time. Score!  Quickly realize it’s a paper straw, as after three sips the straw is no longer usable and your mouth feels as if it is filled with paper mache.

1:00pm: Go to Mystery Spot of Santa Cruz and experience a place where the “laws of gravity and physics” seem to disappear. Get successfully fooled by strange tour guide and question if up is really up and down is really down.

2:00pm: Leave Santa Cruz.  Stop at CVS and buy another eye kit. Drive to Monterey for the night.

6:00pm: Have dinner at a restaurant in Carmel that allows dogs. Watch adorable dog eye Franny’s chicken wings through dinner.

9:00pm: Arrive at hotel. Watch Ted spend considerable amount of time trying to fix glasses with no success.  Go to bed.

Day Five:

9:00am: Wake up and travel the 17-mile Drive through Carmel.

3:00pm: Start the trek down Big Sur.  Against better judgment, attempt to fix Ted’s glasses during car ride.  So far tiny screw is through one side but not the other.  Realize the problem is that tiny screw is too big and is now jammed.  After trying all five tiny screws included in kit, conclude none are the right size and it is a lost cause.

8:00pm: Arrive in San Simeon.  Check in to hotel, order pizza and go to bed.

Day Six: 

9:00am: Wake up and tour Hearst Castle.  Have lunch and get on the road.

12:00pm.  Arrive at Pismo Beach.  Spend day swimming and sunbathing.   Notice that a few feet away are some lone sand buckets and plastic shovels.  Tell kids to go ahead and use them as no one has been around since we arrived.  Assure them that if they belonged to anyone the owners would have been back by now to collect them and there would be towels nearby.  Kids grab pails and see that one is filled rocks.  Kids hesitate.  “Someone’s rocks are in here.” Reassure them that it’s fine to use them.  Kids dump buckets and see that they are not filled with rocks but rather SNAILS in shells.  Many many snails in shells.  Kids freak out.  Calm kids down and tell them to PLEASE JUST PLAY TOGETHER WITH THE DARN SAND TOYS SO I CAN RELAX. Kids play in the sand for approximately six minutes and go back to the ocean.   Lay back and close eyes.  After three minutes hear small voice say, “Hey! Where’s my snails??” Freeze.  Panic.  Carefully open one eye and see six or seven-year-old boy searching inside now empty pails.  See burly tattooed dad walk over from beach towel that is only about four feet away.  Wonder how much he saw.  Wonder if you should confess.  Decide against it.  Hear Ted whisper, “We need to tell them!”  Whisper back, “No way!” in sternest voice you can muster.

“They’re looking for those snails we dumped out..”

“I DON’T CARE. THEY WILL FIND THEM IN THE SAND!”

“Samanth…we need to tell them we were borrowing their—”

Give Ted your best “I will murder you if you say one thing” look and give him final “SHUSH.”

Boy and dad finally walk away after fruitless search for snails that must have either suffocated in the sand or crawled away.  Quickly gather kids and towels and bags and call an early end to beach day.

3:00pm: Drive to Santa Barbara, grab dinner, and go to bed.

Stay tuned for the final entry in the travel diary…Disney may be the happiest place on earth…but CAN THEY FIX PRESCRIPTION SUNGLASSES?????

This is the true story of four family members who chose to get on a plane, rent a car, drive down the California coast, and have their vacation documented.  Find out what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting real.

The Real World: Pacific Coast Highway

Day Three:

9:30am: Get up and GO TO CHURCH. Yes. For real. ON VACATION.  Enjoy a coffee hour spread that could rival Old Country Buffet.  Think about how much Greeks like coffee hour and food. Watch Ted look on floor of car for tiny glasses screw.

12:00pm: Leave church and head to ANOTHER church. Yes. For real. ON VACATION.  Arrive at Joy of All Who Sorrow to venerate the Holy Relics of St. John Maximovitch, a modern-day saint. Liturgy is over so expect to be able to spend some quiet time lighting candles in prayer.  Instead, swing open front doors and unexpectedly see a bride right as she is walking down the aisle. Panic and hope you are not in the background of her pictures in your street clothes with five grimy kids behind you.  Feel confused as the church is empty of guests but clearly a wedding is happening in the immediate future, as in NOW.  Push Ted and Teddy in and run back outside to wait. Wonder how many other brides and grooms you will see on your trip and what it all means.

Above: Inside of the beautiful church Joy of All Who Sorrow.  Background, left to right: photographer, witness, bride, groom, and priest.  Foreground: Tourist in dad jeans who stumbled in.  NOT in our group. 

12:15pm: Watch Ted look on floor of car for tiny glasses screw.

12:17pm: Go to Greek restaurant for lunch and gorge self to prepare for two-hour drive to Santa Cruz.  Watch friend bring over frozen soft-serve Greek yogurt with what looks like honey drizzled on it and hear her say, “Try this.” Trust her and take giant spoonful. Feel tricked when you realize you are eating olive oil with sea salt.  Gag.  Resist desire to spit a mouthful of sea salt onto restaurant table.

                        Above, left: Yogurt with olive oil and salt.  Above, right: California lids.  

1:30pm: Grab Starbucks and hit the road. Suffer through first major disappointment of trip discovering California does not use plastic straws.  Force yourself to adjust to the misfortune that you can’t savor your Refresher like you can in Illinois.  Gulp it down faster than you should gulp down a $5 drink consisting mostly of water.   Enjoy scenic car ride down the coast. Appreciate the gorgeous cliffs, sparkling water, and twisty roads.

4:30pm: Arrive at hotel in Santa Cruz.

4:31pm: Watch Ted look on floor of car for tiny glasses screw.

5:00pm: Leave hotel to meet Ted’s cousin at his restaurant in Los Gatos. Wonder who planned the day’s itinerary (Eat heavy Greek lunch, drive two hours south down a winding coastal road, check-in hotel, drive back UP an even WINDIER road, eat ANOTHER heavy Greek meal.)

6:00pm: Become annoyed when WAZE decides that traffic on main road is too heavy.  Dumbass app recommends alternative route traversing curviest road in the history of roads. LITERALLY travel UP a mountain that twists and turns non-stop and then go back DOWN the mountain to get to destination.

Above: Road we should have taken in blue. Red arrows point to WAZE-recommended route.  

10:00pm: After huge, delicious meal, drive back to Santa Cruz for the night. Watch Ted use flashlight to look for tiny screw in car.  After much persuasion, convince Ted to abandon fruitless mission of ever finding screw again.

And yes…to be continued…

This is the true story of four family members who chose to get on a plane, rent a car, drive down the California coast, and have their vacation documented.  Find out what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting real.

The Real World: Pacific Coast Highway

Day One:

1pm: Go to the airport.

2pm: Get dropped off at the entrance while Ted parks.

2:15: Start check-in process at kiosk. Wonder how the airlines are allowed to charge you $30 JUST TO BRING A SUITCASE on a trip.  Think about the old days when you got a free meal and your dad used to sit in the smoking section of the plane.  Weigh bags.  Discover first bag is 3 lbs. under, but second bag is 8 lbs. over, which will cost you an additional $100 in baggage fees.  Panic and force kids to help you rummage through bag and take out what you hope is an 8 lb. makeup bag.   Wonder if you will be happy that you don’t have to pay extra or embarrassed that you need 8 lbs. of toiletries for a one week vacation.  Weigh bags again. Remove audiobooks that you will never listen to and shove them in one kid’s backpack and a men’s shoe in the other kid’s backpack.  Achieve acceptable weight.  When Ted arrives, hand him giant, feminine, pink Vera Bradley toiletry bag as his carry-on.  Sigh with relief.

2:30: Go through security.  Get flagged.  Realize too late that bringing a 3-wick aromatic candle in your carry-on as a hostess gift is NOT a good idea.  GET FULL-BODY PAT DOWN.   Wish you had given Ted your bag and carried the pink toiletry bag instead.  Curse Karma.  Get searched and patted down for approximately 10 minutes.  Resist the temptation to tell the TSA agent you are getting more action than you have in close to five years.  Watch shoes and candle and other essentials get swabbed and tested.  Rue the day you got that half-price candle coupon.  Look sheepishly behind you and see a handsome man in line wink at you.  Wonder if it is a sympathetic wink or a “Hey, 50-year-old-mom-being-searched, you still got it!” wink.  Glance down at your outfit and go with definite mercy wink.

3pm: Get to gate.  Silently decide the vacation has officially started and peruse food court for vacation food.  Order mini pretzel dogs.  Accept the fact you will have bloated vacation stomach for the next week.

4:30: Get on plane. Sit in middle seat because you are a good mom.  Eat pretzels.  Eat maple cookies.  Eat Stroopwafel.  Feel sick.

8:30: (6:30 PST) Arrive in San Francisco.

7pm: Have first vacation argument about where rental car company is located. Win.

7:30: Drive to friend’s house which is faaarrr from airport.  Use the time to enjoy skyline and scenery.  Have second vacation argument about screens and data time and how the scenery and sights ARE the vacation.

9pm: Arrive at the Whitney household. Relax. Have wine and salad and pizza. Ignore Ted’s comments about how cold it is and that the forecast says 50’s and 60’s and we should have brought more sweatshirts like he suggested.  Silently regret you only brought two long sleeve shirts for each person but do not admit this out loud.  Realize your pictures will look like you either took them all on the same day or never changed your clothes.

Day Two:

9:00am: Wake up, eat breakfast and get on the road to downtown San Francisco.

9:15am: Make our first stop of many at CVS to get an eyeglass repair kit for Ted’s prescription sunglasses that have already lost a screw. NOTE: HAD I KNOWN AT THIS POINT THAT TED’S EYEGLASSES WOULD BE A THEME RUNNING THROUGH OUR ENTIRE VACATION I WOULD HAVE STARTED TAKING PICTURES EARLIER.  Tell Ted it will be impossible to fix his glasses while on the road as a steady hand seems necessary but watch Teddy try to fix them anyway.  After 30 minutes watch Teddy give up.

11:30:  Walk a long way to see the sea lions on Pier 39. See ONE lone sea lion swimming around.  Get lunch at Boudin Bakery and pay $75 for four Panera-like meals.  Worry you cannot afford California.  Stop at Ghirardelli and get giant ice cream treats.  Stop in your tracks at the door and see there is a WEDDING party sitting on the terraces outside the store.  Wonder why they are taking pictures here and then notice the bride and groom dancing on the sidewalk.  Spot a photographer.  Spot a saxophonist.  Wonder who would love Ghiradelli so much they would plan their wedding around it.  Feel relief Ted did not know this was an option or our formal pictures may have been taken outside a KFC.

Above: Bride and groom in front of Ghirardelli, adjacent to CVS, four feet from a woman sweeping and changing out a garbage bag.                                   

4:30: Drive to Golden Gate Park. Argue about directions.  Lose.  Arrive at Segway tour with zero minutes to spare.  Argue about parking. Jump out of car to reserve Segway spots and let Ted park.  Hope he finds parking and is able to find his way back without his glasses.  Speed around the park on Segway seeing all sorts of things.  Shriek nonsense words like “GAH” and “HOO!” every time you lose control, forgetting that just because you are wearing headphones does not mean other people can’t hear you.  Wonder why with every whoop and squawk the man in front of you looks back with concern.

7:00pm.  Finish tour.  Watch Ted try to fix his glasses in the car.  Watch Ted drop tiny screw somewhere in driver’s seat.  Drive back to friend’s house and go to sleep.

To be continued……

Above: Segway tour in Golden Gate Park

There comes a time in every parent’s life when their child comes home from the local carnival and exclaims the four words they dread to hear:

“I won a fish!”

“NOOOOOOO!!!” your internal voice screams.

Thus, we came upon a night a couple of weeks ago when Franny came home with not one, but two, goldfish.  She was sheepishly holding one in each hand, their little orange fins swimming away in the requisite plastic bags carnival goldfish are prone to be delivered in.

“I tried to give one to Olivia but she didn’t want it.”

“What about the other girls?  Did you ask Bryn? Susie?  Did you offer it to Sadie? Surely one of them wanted a new fish!”

“Nope. No one wanted one.”

Impossible. What 11-year-old girl doesn’t want a fish?  What seemed more likely was that their parents had been more clear about carnival rules than I had been:  1) Answer your phone when I text you. 2) The $20 I gave you is for lunch. Do not spend $5 on ice cream, $6 on a frappuccino, and $6 on games where you might possibly win a fish. 3) DON’T BRING HOME ANY FISH.

Not that I have any experience with that exact scenario.

“What should I name them?” she said.

“You are not allowed to name them until tomorrow. They need to prove they can stay alive for 24 hours before they get a name.”

Side Note:

My only experience with carnival fish happened several years ago when Franny was a toddler.  We won a goldfish at the local fest and placed it in a small fishbowl in her bedroom.  The next morning I awoke wondering where the awful stench in my house was coming from. After searching around I traced it back to the fish. How could such a small thing create such a stink? I cleaned the fishbowl that was now murky and cloudy.  Within hours the house had a foul odor again.   I cleaned the tank AGAIN.  It didn’t work. On day three I did nothing and let the fish die in its own filth.

Back to Tim and Alfred.  Oh, yes, they lived 24 hours.

We pulled out the old fish bowl, let the water adjust to room temperature and put them in their new home.   They seemed happy and vibrant, and on day two when I saw they were still alive, I decided to invest in fish food.

Unfortunately, it was time to clean the tank already.  I told Franny she was getting a tutorial, as cleaning a fish bowl every two days was not my idea of summer fun.  We placed both the fish in the same Solo cup and set it on the bathroom counter while we cleaned the bowl.  All we needed to do now was wait again for the water temps to adjust to each other. (Believe me, this part is important.  If you place the fish back in the bowl too soon and the water is colder or warmer than they are used to, they will die. Trust me.)

At this point, Ted was home, so things were done with more attention to sanitation than they normally would be. He was following me around making sure I didn’t use one of our drinking glasses, insisting I use a fish net, spraying down every surface I touched, and warning me not to put the two fish in the same Solo cup.  Ted’s concern about the tight quarters seemed a bit dramatic.

“It will be fine,” I said as I walked away.

An hour later I went to check on the water.  AN HOUR LATER.

Oh, the water was room temperature all right. Also, Timmy was on the floor next to the toilet.

Holy Hell.  “AHHHHH!!!!” I screamed.

I have no idea how long he was down there.  Or how he got there.  Somewhere between right after I left the bathroom and ONE HOUR.  So many questions flooded my brain. Was he alive?  Was he breathing? Do fish breathe? Did Alfred push him out?  Did he jump to his death?  Was he trying to get to the toilet?  DO all drains lead to the ocean??

In a panic, I scooped him up with my fingers and threw him back into the fishbowl. We watched. And we watched.  He floated lifelessly on his side. And then…and then…his mouth started moving.  HE WAS ALIVE!!

Except was he? He was opening his mouth and closing it, but he wasn’t exactly swimming.  He was kind of just floating.  We waited.  I prodded him with my finger.  He lurched and then went back to floating on his side.   Oh no…was this going to be a repeat of when a certain toddler dropped our guinea pig years ago?  First shock, and then a slow, theatrical death involving spasms and twitches?

After a few minutes, he began to swim slowly, but still on his side, only using one fin. Maybe he just had a broken fin. An image of Nemo popped into my head.  Could a fish live by using just one fin and only swimming diagonally?  I prodded him again. He moved to the side of the bowl and started rotating the way an alligator would if he was trying to kill his prey, his nose in the corner spinning in circles.  He’d gone mad.  I could only hope he would be able to maintain a healthy weight with the constant spinning while eating for the rest of his life.

By morning he was normal again. Although I can’t say Ted was. He insisted from then on we put them in separate cups while we cleaned the bowl.  He felt certain Alfred pushed Timmy out due to cramped space. I insisted we also put the dog away during the cleaning process.  I could not guarantee that Athena was not, in fact, a pescatarian and wondered if maybe we just got lucky the first time.

Five days later, in a surprising turn of events, Alfred died. (It appeared to be of natural causes with no foul play suspected.  Except for the fact that it happened while Ted was the only one home. Still, the kids and I made the executive decision to close the case.)  The day after that, we found Timmy laying on the bottom of the bowl.  It was obvious he died of a broken heart.

I wish I could have come up with a heartfelt send-off for them, but quite frankly, I didn’t have much to work with.

RIP Alfred and Timmy. We hardly knew ya.