Ok, apparently I shouldn't disparage the tropical uniforms. Because I made fun of them, Zac has now officially refused to EVER wear the tropical uniform if the opportunity arose.
So let me rephrase: I will not laugh at the tropical uniforms.
I will, instead, celebrate the fashion-forward, equatorial joy that are the tropical uniforms. :)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
COMPASS class in review
The COMPASS class I took last week went pretty well.
That's the short version.
If you want the longer version, here it is:
First off, I'm still not sure why COMPASS is in all capital letters. Usually when something is in all caps it's an acronym for something. For example, MIDPAC stands for Middle Pacific, or RHIB stands for Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat (simply pronounced, 'rib'). COMPASS apparently doesn't stand for anything but it is named with all capital letters. The leaders of the class said the name comes from the idea that the class is designed to help spouses navigate the Navy, hence the directional instrument. But that doesn't really warrant all caps in my book. If it's not an acronym I think it should be "Compass". After all, we don't go around typing SEXTANT. (Especially in a digital world where all caps usually indicate yelling. COMPASS!!! SEXTANT!!!)
The class ran for three nights, three and a half hours per night. We covered a number of topics including Naval history and traditions, benefits, finance, moving, deployment and communication in relationships. Each topic was taught by a different volunteer. The class had 12 spouses in it, and by 'spouses' I mean 'wives'. There were two women who had only been married for three months to their sailors and some who were in the double-digit years. Most of us fell into the middle. It was a nice range. As the instructors periodically pointed out, even spouses that have been with the Navy for a long time can learn something new at COMPASS. (For example, this time around we learned that chaplains were not mandatory reporters - even the instructors didn't know that one.) I'd say I already knew about 60% of what they taught us. I was quite pleased with myself for having acquired much of that knowledge on my own over the last couple of years. I actually felt a little bad for the recently-married gals in the class because often times they looked a little dazed and confused by everything that was being thrown at them. Perhaps taking this class a few years on into the marriage isn't so bad.
One interesting aspect of the class was that we all called each other by our first names and we were not allowed to disclose our husband's rank. No officers, senior or junior enlisted in this class. Just wives. That was kind of refreshing, and particularly necessary really. I'm not sure you'd get the same kind of candor or friendliness between the wives if we all knew where our husbands were in the pecking order. Instead of focusing on just what you have in common with other officer wives or other junior enlisted wives, you got to focus on what you had in common with someone else who is married to a sailor - period. Because at the end of the day, they're all sailors and they all deploy.
I had more than a few good chuckles listening to the wives swap stories about their time in the Navy. It was like listening to Zac talk to his Navy buddies, except the wives aren't in charge of nuclear reactors or firing missiles or performing a non-compliant ship boarding. We all have our types war stories it seems.
There were a few low points to the class. Not really low points, more like disappointments. I was mostly disappointed in the segment of the class that dealt with Naval history and traditions. This included things like uniforms, rank structure, rates, etc. This is the topic I was most looking forward to. I was completely amped up for this topic. If I were volunteering for COMPASS, this is the topic I would beg to teach. It is so darn interesting. But, alas, the presenter didn't project much enthusiasm for the subject. How is that possible? Naval history is fascinating! There is so much neat stuff you could talk about. We didn't even listen to (or sing) "Anchors Aweigh"! And uniforms? I could talk about uniforms for days! Now maybe not everyone thinks history and traditions are as neat as I do, but, boy howdy, if I was teaching that subject you would know that I loved it.
If I taught that section of the class I would have a full size cut out of a sailor in a tropical uniform, just for giggles.
I laugh until I almost cry every time I see the tropical uniforms. Especially the Dinner Dress tropical uniform on the right. Look at that gold cummerbund shimmer! Why the guys don't wear these in Hawaii, I do not know. (After all, isn't Hawaii 'tropical'?) I really wish they would wear these. Zac, on the other hand, scowls every time I mention tropical uniforms.
Where was I? I got so distracted by the tropical uniforms . . .
Ah yes, so besides the history and traditions disappointment, overall the class was really well done. You could really tell that the volunteer enjoyed presenting the materials and were genuine in their desire to share information with people. In order to be a COMPASS mentor (the people that teach) you have to have been married to your sailor for at least three years and been around for at least one six month deployment with him (and take the mentor course). Zac and I haven't been married that long, and I'm not sure that El Salvador would count as a deployment, but I think I'll help them out with the support staff positions that they have. (For example, some people make food for each class session, others update materials.) Hopefully at some point I'll be able to be a COMPASS mentor, and maybe they'll let me teach the Navy History and Traditions Unit.
I even promise not to laugh at the tropical uniforms!
[reconsidering]
Nah. I'll continue to laugh at those.
That's the short version.
If you want the longer version, here it is:
First off, I'm still not sure why COMPASS is in all capital letters. Usually when something is in all caps it's an acronym for something. For example, MIDPAC stands for Middle Pacific, or RHIB stands for Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat (simply pronounced, 'rib'). COMPASS apparently doesn't stand for anything but it is named with all capital letters. The leaders of the class said the name comes from the idea that the class is designed to help spouses navigate the Navy, hence the directional instrument. But that doesn't really warrant all caps in my book. If it's not an acronym I think it should be "Compass". After all, we don't go around typing SEXTANT. (Especially in a digital world where all caps usually indicate yelling. COMPASS!!! SEXTANT!!!)
The class ran for three nights, three and a half hours per night. We covered a number of topics including Naval history and traditions, benefits, finance, moving, deployment and communication in relationships. Each topic was taught by a different volunteer. The class had 12 spouses in it, and by 'spouses' I mean 'wives'. There were two women who had only been married for three months to their sailors and some who were in the double-digit years. Most of us fell into the middle. It was a nice range. As the instructors periodically pointed out, even spouses that have been with the Navy for a long time can learn something new at COMPASS. (For example, this time around we learned that chaplains were not mandatory reporters - even the instructors didn't know that one.) I'd say I already knew about 60% of what they taught us. I was quite pleased with myself for having acquired much of that knowledge on my own over the last couple of years. I actually felt a little bad for the recently-married gals in the class because often times they looked a little dazed and confused by everything that was being thrown at them. Perhaps taking this class a few years on into the marriage isn't so bad.
One interesting aspect of the class was that we all called each other by our first names and we were not allowed to disclose our husband's rank. No officers, senior or junior enlisted in this class. Just wives. That was kind of refreshing, and particularly necessary really. I'm not sure you'd get the same kind of candor or friendliness between the wives if we all knew where our husbands were in the pecking order. Instead of focusing on just what you have in common with other officer wives or other junior enlisted wives, you got to focus on what you had in common with someone else who is married to a sailor - period. Because at the end of the day, they're all sailors and they all deploy.
I had more than a few good chuckles listening to the wives swap stories about their time in the Navy. It was like listening to Zac talk to his Navy buddies, except the wives aren't in charge of nuclear reactors or firing missiles or performing a non-compliant ship boarding. We all have our types war stories it seems.
There were a few low points to the class. Not really low points, more like disappointments. I was mostly disappointed in the segment of the class that dealt with Naval history and traditions. This included things like uniforms, rank structure, rates, etc. This is the topic I was most looking forward to. I was completely amped up for this topic. If I were volunteering for COMPASS, this is the topic I would beg to teach. It is so darn interesting. But, alas, the presenter didn't project much enthusiasm for the subject. How is that possible? Naval history is fascinating! There is so much neat stuff you could talk about. We didn't even listen to (or sing) "Anchors Aweigh"! And uniforms? I could talk about uniforms for days! Now maybe not everyone thinks history and traditions are as neat as I do, but, boy howdy, if I was teaching that subject you would know that I loved it.
If I taught that section of the class I would have a full size cut out of a sailor in a tropical uniform, just for giggles.
I laugh until I almost cry every time I see the tropical uniforms. Especially the Dinner Dress tropical uniform on the right. Look at that gold cummerbund shimmer! Why the guys don't wear these in Hawaii, I do not know. (After all, isn't Hawaii 'tropical'?) I really wish they would wear these. Zac, on the other hand, scowls every time I mention tropical uniforms.
Where was I? I got so distracted by the tropical uniforms . . .
Ah yes, so besides the history and traditions disappointment, overall the class was really well done. You could really tell that the volunteer enjoyed presenting the materials and were genuine in their desire to share information with people. In order to be a COMPASS mentor (the people that teach) you have to have been married to your sailor for at least three years and been around for at least one six month deployment with him (and take the mentor course). Zac and I haven't been married that long, and I'm not sure that El Salvador would count as a deployment, but I think I'll help them out with the support staff positions that they have. (For example, some people make food for each class session, others update materials.) Hopefully at some point I'll be able to be a COMPASS mentor, and maybe they'll let me teach the Navy History and Traditions Unit.
I even promise not to laugh at the tropical uniforms!
[reconsidering]
Nah. I'll continue to laugh at those.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I'm B-O-R-E-D
I'm bored. I've nothing really worth blogging about. Since this blog has turned into a way for people in my life to keep up with me, as opposed to me complaining about one thing or another, it is hard to blog about the normal day-to-day goings on.
Here's my day: I wake up, I brush my teeth and make some coffee, I turn on the computer and check out my usual 10-15 websites to catch up on news, I drink the aforementioned coffee while I work for a few hours, I eat lunch, I crochet for an hour or maybe read, I go back to working for a couple hours, Zac gets home, we discuss his day, we make supper, we watch tv or something from Netflix, sometimes play a game of cribbage during the show, and then go to bed. That's pretty much it every day. My job is the same as it was a few months ago, so is Zac's. Toivo is the same. No, I'm not pregnant. The new dog, Zoe, arrives next month. And that's about it. With nothing new to report it gets to be a chore staring at a blank blog screen, waiting for inspiration to strike.
Next week I'll be taking a COMPASS class, which I hope will give me some topics worth blogging about. Here's the description of the class:
I'm looking forward to the class as it sounds like it might have some useful information. I am a little perturbed that I never would have heard of this class had Zac's CO's wife not mentioned it to me while I was being interviewed to be ombudsman, more than two years after I "joined" the Navy. This class is designed for new Navy spouses? Perhaps the Navy could have sent me some info on the class, oh, say, back when I married the Navy?
The Navy has a computer system that gets updated when a sailor gets married, so maybe, just maybe, the system could send the new spouse a post card with some information on it. Information like, "Welcome to the Navy, here are the top three phone numbers and websites that new spouses have found helpful", or, "We have a class specifically designed for people like you. Here's how to sign up." But no. That would be too complicated. The Navy would rather let Zac and his clueless spouse figure it out for themselves. If we miss out on information, benefits or educational opportunities that's our own fault.
At least I'll get the opportunity to learn this stuff now. And as most people know, I do love learning things. Yay, school! I hope I have to take notes. I haven't taken notes in quite awhile. I bet I'd get a hand cramp, as I'm out of copious-note-taking practice. I'm excited at the prospect of the familiar pattern of scribble, scribble, scribble, pause to shake the hand out vigorously, scribble, scribble, shake. Hmmm, "learn", "love", "hope", "note-taking", "excited"? Sounds a great remedy for boredom.
Here's my day: I wake up, I brush my teeth and make some coffee, I turn on the computer and check out my usual 10-15 websites to catch up on news, I drink the aforementioned coffee while I work for a few hours, I eat lunch, I crochet for an hour or maybe read, I go back to working for a couple hours, Zac gets home, we discuss his day, we make supper, we watch tv or something from Netflix, sometimes play a game of cribbage during the show, and then go to bed. That's pretty much it every day. My job is the same as it was a few months ago, so is Zac's. Toivo is the same. No, I'm not pregnant. The new dog, Zoe, arrives next month. And that's about it. With nothing new to report it gets to be a chore staring at a blank blog screen, waiting for inspiration to strike.
Next week I'll be taking a COMPASS class, which I hope will give me some topics worth blogging about. Here's the description of the class:
COMPASS is a standardized Team-Mentoring program developed by spouses for spouses. COMPASS focuses on spouses new to the Navy, however; ALL Navy spouses are welcome. COMPASS improves quality of life through education, enabling spouses to understand, experience and meet the challenges of the Navy lifestyle. With this knowledge and realistic expectations, their journeys can be successful and rewarding.
COMPASS is a 12-hour program taught in three four-hour sessions. With Mentors acting as discussion leaders, participants are encouraged to ask any questions they may have in a non-judgmental climate. Participants are introduced to many aspects of the Navy. The standardized curriculum includes need-to-know topics such as the Navy mission, history, organization, customs and traditions, rights and benefits, deployment, pay, moving, interpersonal communication, and investing in self and community.
Another important benefit of COMPASS is the opportunity for spouses to establish a peer network. Because experienced spouses pass on their Navy lifestyle insights, the concept of "helping others to help themselves" is clearly observable and becomes an on-going action-oriented process.
I'm looking forward to the class as it sounds like it might have some useful information. I am a little perturbed that I never would have heard of this class had Zac's CO's wife not mentioned it to me while I was being interviewed to be ombudsman, more than two years after I "joined" the Navy. This class is designed for new Navy spouses? Perhaps the Navy could have sent me some info on the class, oh, say, back when I married the Navy?
The Navy has a computer system that gets updated when a sailor gets married, so maybe, just maybe, the system could send the new spouse a post card with some information on it. Information like, "Welcome to the Navy, here are the top three phone numbers and websites that new spouses have found helpful", or, "We have a class specifically designed for people like you. Here's how to sign up." But no. That would be too complicated. The Navy would rather let Zac and his clueless spouse figure it out for themselves. If we miss out on information, benefits or educational opportunities that's our own fault.
At least I'll get the opportunity to learn this stuff now. And as most people know, I do love learning things. Yay, school! I hope I have to take notes. I haven't taken notes in quite awhile. I bet I'd get a hand cramp, as I'm out of copious-note-taking practice. I'm excited at the prospect of the familiar pattern of scribble, scribble, scribble, pause to shake the hand out vigorously, scribble, scribble, shake. Hmmm, "learn", "love", "hope", "note-taking", "excited"? Sounds a great remedy for boredom.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Keeping up with friends
It finally feels like winter around here, right as the season is changing. Usually winter means rainy weather, but so far this season it has been abnormally dry. The last week or two has seen lots of showers, bringing some much needed precipitation. It's not like a steady day of gloomy skies and rain, but more like fits and spurts of rain. Sun for 20 minutes, rain for 15, sun for 40, rain for 10, sun for 10, rain for 30, etc. Essentially it's umbrella-toting weather. Also, it's been really gusty lately - winds from 30-50 mph. Since we have all the windows open we have to have any and all papers weighted down in order to prevent a total mess.
I finally called one of my MN friends the other day. Well, technically she's no longer a Minnesotan. She was in TN, now NC. She's still working for Thomson and moving up the corporate ladder. I'm very happy for her. It's nice to see the system actually work - where hard-working people are promoted and moving up the income bracket. I only talk to her every (very) few months which is a shame. Actually, that's true for most of my Minnesota friends. It's not that I don't think about them, not that I don't wonder how they're doing, but for some reason I have a hard time figuring a time to talk to them. It takes actual effort to coordinate time zones and schedules to accommodate a phone call. In a lot of ways Facebook is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand it allows me to keep tabs on my friends through their postings, but on the other, I frequently use FB as a substitute for actual interaction be it e-mail or phone.
I have one good friend back in MN that I haven't talked to since . . . May? Maybe June. We talked on the phone once, I doubt it but maybe twice, since my trip back to MN last Memorial Day. We played a little bit of phone tag. Months passed and then she sent me an e-mail about getting together during my winter trip. I haven't called her since the holiday season since the holiday season was just a few weeks ago, right? Oh wait, you mean to tell me it's the middle of March? Yeah, I'm a terrible person. I get promotional e-mails from Tiffany's and Old Chicago which remind me every week or two that I need to call her. (Two places that we used to hang out regularly.) And most often whenever I want to talk sports, I think of her. She's one of the few female friends I have who likes and understands sports. I've spent more than a couple NFL drafts with her, eating pizza, drinking beer and commentating on the reaction of the athletes as their names are called. We took a road trip to Austin, TX to visit her folks and watch Longhorn baseball while the ground was still frozen in MN, and I was in her apartment watching the BCS national championship game when Vince Young led Texas to the national title. (She's a UT alumna. Not as nutty as some of them, but definitely proud of her school.)
She helped me through the break-up with my ex, when I was at my lowest. I was there for some things that occurred in her life too. I just don't understand some days how I've let it go this long without talking to her. How do you share a close friendship with someone for years and then fall out of contact because of distance in the 21 century? I think part of it is that I rely mainly on e-mail and Facebook as communication tools these days, and those aren't her primary tools for connecting. Although, it's been months since I've talked to her, so my information could be out of date. She could be checking her e-mail all the time, chatting on Facebook every evening, and I don't know because I haven't talked to her in forever. But then again, I guess it's a two-way street. She could reach out to me. I just feel like the ball is in my court.
I think this "issue" of maintaining friendships is just going to get more complicated as time goes on. Bernadette leaves next month and I know that I want to continue our friendship as she and Ken head back to the mainland. But, like my Longhorn friend, our friendship has been predicated on hanging out in person. We don't usually e-mail or Facebook. I wonder how our friendship will change as we go forward. And who knows how many close friends I'll make as Zac and I move with the Navy over the next 10 years? (Hopefully I'll make a few.) Then I'll have even more people that I want to keep tabs on. It's a bit overwhelming to think about. I guess I just have to hope that my friends understand that my love and affection for them continues, even when the communication doesn't.
I finally called one of my MN friends the other day. Well, technically she's no longer a Minnesotan. She was in TN, now NC. She's still working for Thomson and moving up the corporate ladder. I'm very happy for her. It's nice to see the system actually work - where hard-working people are promoted and moving up the income bracket. I only talk to her every (very) few months which is a shame. Actually, that's true for most of my Minnesota friends. It's not that I don't think about them, not that I don't wonder how they're doing, but for some reason I have a hard time figuring a time to talk to them. It takes actual effort to coordinate time zones and schedules to accommodate a phone call. In a lot of ways Facebook is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand it allows me to keep tabs on my friends through their postings, but on the other, I frequently use FB as a substitute for actual interaction be it e-mail or phone.
I have one good friend back in MN that I haven't talked to since . . . May? Maybe June. We talked on the phone once, I doubt it but maybe twice, since my trip back to MN last Memorial Day. We played a little bit of phone tag. Months passed and then she sent me an e-mail about getting together during my winter trip. I haven't called her since the holiday season since the holiday season was just a few weeks ago, right? Oh wait, you mean to tell me it's the middle of March? Yeah, I'm a terrible person. I get promotional e-mails from Tiffany's and Old Chicago which remind me every week or two that I need to call her. (Two places that we used to hang out regularly.) And most often whenever I want to talk sports, I think of her. She's one of the few female friends I have who likes and understands sports. I've spent more than a couple NFL drafts with her, eating pizza, drinking beer and commentating on the reaction of the athletes as their names are called. We took a road trip to Austin, TX to visit her folks and watch Longhorn baseball while the ground was still frozen in MN, and I was in her apartment watching the BCS national championship game when Vince Young led Texas to the national title. (She's a UT alumna. Not as nutty as some of them, but definitely proud of her school.)
She helped me through the break-up with my ex, when I was at my lowest. I was there for some things that occurred in her life too. I just don't understand some days how I've let it go this long without talking to her. How do you share a close friendship with someone for years and then fall out of contact because of distance in the 21 century? I think part of it is that I rely mainly on e-mail and Facebook as communication tools these days, and those aren't her primary tools for connecting. Although, it's been months since I've talked to her, so my information could be out of date. She could be checking her e-mail all the time, chatting on Facebook every evening, and I don't know because I haven't talked to her in forever. But then again, I guess it's a two-way street. She could reach out to me. I just feel like the ball is in my court.
I think this "issue" of maintaining friendships is just going to get more complicated as time goes on. Bernadette leaves next month and I know that I want to continue our friendship as she and Ken head back to the mainland. But, like my Longhorn friend, our friendship has been predicated on hanging out in person. We don't usually e-mail or Facebook. I wonder how our friendship will change as we go forward. And who knows how many close friends I'll make as Zac and I move with the Navy over the next 10 years? (Hopefully I'll make a few.) Then I'll have even more people that I want to keep tabs on. It's a bit overwhelming to think about. I guess I just have to hope that my friends understand that my love and affection for them continues, even when the communication doesn't.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A weekend in Sin City, with minimum sin - vol. 2
As you may have heard, the tsunami turned out to be rather small and caused no damage. In my 17 months here I have avoided a direct-hit from a hurricane and large-scale tsunami. I'd chalk it up to good luck, but realistically the Pacific Ocean is a big, big place, and my house is a small, small, percentage of that space. Also, if I had good luck I would have won some money in Las Vegas, which I didn't. I guess my lack of natural disasters experience is due to statistics than luck.
Finishing up the tale of our trip to Las Vegas, Mom, Megan and I spent Saturday walking around the other half of the strip. One thing about walking all day is that you become acutely aware of the surface that you're walking on. Walking on concrete for a few hours is tough work. When we'd cross something like the floor of a casino with it's cushioned, carpeted goodness or the wooden planks outside Treasure Island, the relief on our backs was readily discernible. Even walking across some of the granite floors (or whatever else the entries to casinos are floored with) was easier on my legs and back than the concrete. I don't know how people could stand to run on concrete for any length of time. Then again, I don't know how people run for any length of time.
That afternoon found us at Caesar's Palace where we had lunch at Mesa Grill. This was my idea. Mesa Grill is one of Bobby Flay's restaurants. Bobby Flay is one of Zac's favorite chefs from Food Network. I thought it would be neat to have lunch there and see if they had a t-shirt that I could get for Zac. The meal was very tasty, albeit with a very strange bread basket containing an assortment of breads ranging from blueberry coffee cake to mini jalapeno biscuits. I bought Zac a t-shirt and we headed back to our hotel ready to rest our feet for awhile.
The plan for the night was "Jersey Boys" at the Palazzo. We ended up getting tickets for the 9:30 showing but Mom, Megan and I weren't sure we'd be able to stay up that late. Luckily the show was terrific and there wasn't a moment to feel drowsy. (This also might have something to do with the fact that I we stopped for coffee about 30 minutes before the show. I have been strictly decaf for months now and I inadvertently ordered a regular. I could have run the strip by the time the caffeine kicked in. My mom and sister were lucky I was only swaying in my seat along with the songs, and not standing up belting out the songs with the cast.)
If you get the chance to see "Jersey Boys" you should. It's excellent. If you think you don't know who Frankie Valli or the Four Seasons are - you're wrong. You know their songs. You will bob your head along to the beat. And the story? Who doesn't love a rags to riches to taking on a million dollar debt narrative? Just go to the show. You'll enjoy yourself. Note that there is quite of bit of cursing. This may offend some people. Me? I'm married to a sailor. The only drawback that I could find from the show is that I had a medley of Four Seasons songs running through my head for days afterward. A small price to pay for an evening of entertainment. (Actually the price of the ticket was nowhere near "small price" now that I think about it. That's Vegas for you, I guess.)
We hopped a taxi back to the hotel and crashed. Well, I tried to sleep but I was equal parts exhausted and caffeine-driven so while my eyelids were heavy my mind was still racing a mile a minute. Finally I fell asleep. Sunday morning we got up and had breakfast one last time at the hotel. We checked out at 11am, but had a few hours til it was time to leave for the airport. We ended up giving the tables one last chance, but it was to no avail. Las Vegas felt we needed to donate more to its coffers. I think I ended up $250 down for the trip when it came to gambling. Not my best showing, by far. But I did put $20 down on the Twins to win the World Series. (The odds makers have us at 8-1.) So I still have a chance of making some of that money back but I won't know until November.
Finally we headed over to the airport, said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. It was a great weekend. I miss spending time with my family, especially my immediate nuclear family. One thing I miss is when my Dad would go out of town on business my Mom, sister and I would always go out to supper at Perkins. So in some ways, Las Vegas was a long trip to Perkins. A really, really expensive trip Perkins. Laughter is the best medicine they say, and there was plenty of that on our trip so while I was tired from the weekend I felt happy and rejuvenated when I got home. Who knew that a weekend in Sin City would be good so for the soul?
Finishing up the tale of our trip to Las Vegas, Mom, Megan and I spent Saturday walking around the other half of the strip. One thing about walking all day is that you become acutely aware of the surface that you're walking on. Walking on concrete for a few hours is tough work. When we'd cross something like the floor of a casino with it's cushioned, carpeted goodness or the wooden planks outside Treasure Island, the relief on our backs was readily discernible. Even walking across some of the granite floors (or whatever else the entries to casinos are floored with) was easier on my legs and back than the concrete. I don't know how people could stand to run on concrete for any length of time. Then again, I don't know how people run for any length of time.
That afternoon found us at Caesar's Palace where we had lunch at Mesa Grill. This was my idea. Mesa Grill is one of Bobby Flay's restaurants. Bobby Flay is one of Zac's favorite chefs from Food Network. I thought it would be neat to have lunch there and see if they had a t-shirt that I could get for Zac. The meal was very tasty, albeit with a very strange bread basket containing an assortment of breads ranging from blueberry coffee cake to mini jalapeno biscuits. I bought Zac a t-shirt and we headed back to our hotel ready to rest our feet for awhile.
The plan for the night was "Jersey Boys" at the Palazzo. We ended up getting tickets for the 9:30 showing but Mom, Megan and I weren't sure we'd be able to stay up that late. Luckily the show was terrific and there wasn't a moment to feel drowsy. (This also might have something to do with the fact that I we stopped for coffee about 30 minutes before the show. I have been strictly decaf for months now and I inadvertently ordered a regular. I could have run the strip by the time the caffeine kicked in. My mom and sister were lucky I was only swaying in my seat along with the songs, and not standing up belting out the songs with the cast.)
If you get the chance to see "Jersey Boys" you should. It's excellent. If you think you don't know who Frankie Valli or the Four Seasons are - you're wrong. You know their songs. You will bob your head along to the beat. And the story? Who doesn't love a rags to riches to taking on a million dollar debt narrative? Just go to the show. You'll enjoy yourself. Note that there is quite of bit of cursing. This may offend some people. Me? I'm married to a sailor. The only drawback that I could find from the show is that I had a medley of Four Seasons songs running through my head for days afterward. A small price to pay for an evening of entertainment. (Actually the price of the ticket was nowhere near "small price" now that I think about it. That's Vegas for you, I guess.)
We hopped a taxi back to the hotel and crashed. Well, I tried to sleep but I was equal parts exhausted and caffeine-driven so while my eyelids were heavy my mind was still racing a mile a minute. Finally I fell asleep. Sunday morning we got up and had breakfast one last time at the hotel. We checked out at 11am, but had a few hours til it was time to leave for the airport. We ended up giving the tables one last chance, but it was to no avail. Las Vegas felt we needed to donate more to its coffers. I think I ended up $250 down for the trip when it came to gambling. Not my best showing, by far. But I did put $20 down on the Twins to win the World Series. (The odds makers have us at 8-1.) So I still have a chance of making some of that money back but I won't know until November.
Finally we headed over to the airport, said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. It was a great weekend. I miss spending time with my family, especially my immediate nuclear family. One thing I miss is when my Dad would go out of town on business my Mom, sister and I would always go out to supper at Perkins. So in some ways, Las Vegas was a long trip to Perkins. A really, really expensive trip Perkins. Laughter is the best medicine they say, and there was plenty of that on our trip so while I was tired from the weekend I felt happy and rejuvenated when I got home. Who knew that a weekend in Sin City would be good so for the soul?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tsunami watch
Well, I was going to post part II of my Las Vegas trip today but instead I'm on tsumani alert. Just to get this out of the way:
We're fine. We live outside of the evacuation zone. The waves probably won't be that high but, even if they are, Pearl Harbor will dampen the effect before they get to us. No worries.
Last night Zac and I were over at Pearl Harbor, bowling with friends as a send-off for one of Zac's coworkers who is going to the mainland for a few months of training. (Before reporting back to Hawaii to be assigned to a ship.) After we got done bowling Zac and I decided to go over to the pool hall on Pearl. It was nice and vacant so I was able to work on bettering my poor pool skills without sharks hovering over the table, wanting the table for their next game.
As we entered the hall, we noticed on the big-screen tv turned to CNN that a earthquake had hit Chile. Though the ticker on the bottom of the screen mentioned a tsunami warning for areas around Chile, it didn't occur to Zac or me that perhaps that earthquake would cause a tsunami for us. We played a few games and headed home.
Around 4:30 this morning (Hawaii time) my phone rang, which startled the hell out of me and rattled me out of my deep sleep. You know something's wrong if you get a phone call from certain people between 11pm and 6am. Turns out Megan's fine, the family is fine, she was just calling to let me know that we were in trouble. Because I knew about the earthquake in Chile from the night before, I wasn't surprised when Megan said that Hawaii is under a tsunami watch, but it took my clouded brain a second to understand what she was saying. After I assured her that we had tsunami sirens to warn us if something came along, I tried to go back to sleep. About 30 minutes later a Hawaii friend of mine called me too, to let me know that there were going to be sirens going off at 6am and evacuations for the coastal areas.
Now I realized that maybe I should get up and out of bed, if only because now my mind was racing through possibilities. I headed downstairs and turned on the news. Of course all of the local news stations are all over this. I think they're being incredibly restrained, truthfully. I know often times local news stations like to sensationalize the news of the day but this morning they are doing a good job of being informative but not hysterical. The gist of the news is this: the tsunami will reach the Big Island around 11:00 Hawaii time, Oahu a short time later - maybe a half-hour (which is rather remarkable when you think about the distance between islands); there will be some sort of decent-sized waves, perhaps 6ft based on current estimates; people in evacuation zones will need to leave their homes for higher ground.
I called my parents and my sister to keep them abreast of what's going on out here, just so they won't worry (as much). At this point it's just wait-and-see. The waves won't get here for another 4.5 hours, so at some point I'm going to go a little mad if I keep watching the news coverage. That's the tough part about a story like this - there is little new news to report so it's just the same info over and over. Zac suggested we should toss in a movie, but it seems strange to watch "Guys and Dolls" while people are already lined up six deep at the gas station behind our house.
If anything interesting happens, I'll be sure to let you guys know. For now I'm going to make a pot of coffee and enjoy the breakfast that Zac just cooked up for us. You'll just have to wait for the second-half recap of Las Vegas.
We're fine. We live outside of the evacuation zone. The waves probably won't be that high but, even if they are, Pearl Harbor will dampen the effect before they get to us. No worries.
Last night Zac and I were over at Pearl Harbor, bowling with friends as a send-off for one of Zac's coworkers who is going to the mainland for a few months of training. (Before reporting back to Hawaii to be assigned to a ship.) After we got done bowling Zac and I decided to go over to the pool hall on Pearl. It was nice and vacant so I was able to work on bettering my poor pool skills without sharks hovering over the table, wanting the table for their next game.
As we entered the hall, we noticed on the big-screen tv turned to CNN that a earthquake had hit Chile. Though the ticker on the bottom of the screen mentioned a tsunami warning for areas around Chile, it didn't occur to Zac or me that perhaps that earthquake would cause a tsunami for us. We played a few games and headed home.
Around 4:30 this morning (Hawaii time) my phone rang, which startled the hell out of me and rattled me out of my deep sleep. You know something's wrong if you get a phone call from certain people between 11pm and 6am. Turns out Megan's fine, the family is fine, she was just calling to let me know that we were in trouble. Because I knew about the earthquake in Chile from the night before, I wasn't surprised when Megan said that Hawaii is under a tsunami watch, but it took my clouded brain a second to understand what she was saying. After I assured her that we had tsunami sirens to warn us if something came along, I tried to go back to sleep. About 30 minutes later a Hawaii friend of mine called me too, to let me know that there were going to be sirens going off at 6am and evacuations for the coastal areas.
Now I realized that maybe I should get up and out of bed, if only because now my mind was racing through possibilities. I headed downstairs and turned on the news. Of course all of the local news stations are all over this. I think they're being incredibly restrained, truthfully. I know often times local news stations like to sensationalize the news of the day but this morning they are doing a good job of being informative but not hysterical. The gist of the news is this: the tsunami will reach the Big Island around 11:00 Hawaii time, Oahu a short time later - maybe a half-hour (which is rather remarkable when you think about the distance between islands); there will be some sort of decent-sized waves, perhaps 6ft based on current estimates; people in evacuation zones will need to leave their homes for higher ground.
I called my parents and my sister to keep them abreast of what's going on out here, just so they won't worry (as much). At this point it's just wait-and-see. The waves won't get here for another 4.5 hours, so at some point I'm going to go a little mad if I keep watching the news coverage. That's the tough part about a story like this - there is little new news to report so it's just the same info over and over. Zac suggested we should toss in a movie, but it seems strange to watch "Guys and Dolls" while people are already lined up six deep at the gas station behind our house.
If anything interesting happens, I'll be sure to let you guys know. For now I'm going to make a pot of coffee and enjoy the breakfast that Zac just cooked up for us. You'll just have to wait for the second-half recap of Las Vegas.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A weekend in Sin City, with miminal sin
I met up with my Mom and Sister in Las Vegas last weekend. We all flew in on a Thursday and headed home on Sunday. The trip was mainly funded by my parents. The trip was my Dad's idea - he thought his girls needed some time to hang out with one another. Of course, he proposed this idea a couple years ago but it took a long time to find a weekend that all three of us could be there at the same time. My schedule is a lot more flexible than my Mom's or Megan's - I don't have an office-job or a two-year-old or church activities or coaching or anything, really. I waited until they both had a free weekend and then let Megan book most of the trip, since she had the strongest opinions of where we should stay. We stayed at the Paris hotel/casino, which turned out to be a good location in terms of the Las Vegas strip and walking around sightseeing.
One of the things I believe about Las Vegas, more than most other vacation destinations, is that the people that you travel with really dictate what kind of a trip you're going to have. I've been to Las Vegas once before, in April of 2006. On that trip I was with three female friends all about my age and all single. (Well, one of us wasn't exactly single, but she enjoyed flirting with the guys we met regardless.) Needless to say, that trip was a little more wild than this trip with my mother and my 20-weeks-along pregnant sister. But I enjoyed both trips equally, if for completely different reasons.
We had a room on the strip side of the hotel, meaning our view was the replica Eiffel Tower and the Bellagio. The three of us were mesmerized by the fountains in front of the Bellagio. I could sit there and watch them all day. I'm not sure why they're so fascinating, but I appreciate the artistry and engineering that combine to make the water perform in sync with the music. And, honestly, how can you not smile when it's nighttime, the strip is lit up like electricity is going out of style, and columns of water are swaying in rhythm to Frank Sinatra's "Luck Be A Lady"? (Disclosure: I have a soft spot for "Guys and Dolls", the musical my high school performed my senior year. I wasn't in it - I never had the nerve to try out, a lasting regret - but I had many friends who were in theater and they were just terrific, especially in that production.)
We spent Thursday afternoon relaxing and catching up. We booked massages at the spa in the hotel and let the masseurs work out some of the kinks the flights had introduced to our bodies. We even went down to the casino to play some Blackjack, or "21" as Mom insists on calling it. My sister can usually win money playing blackjack and I usually break even so blackjack is our game of choice. Really, the only other casino game I know how to play at all is roulette and, as I mentioned about the trip to Lake Tahoe, roulette is a giant wheel of evil. I wasn't sure what mom was going to do while we gambled since mom never gambles save spending $1 on a lottery ticket every now and again when the pot gets big. That's her equivalent of living life on the edge.
So it was quite to my surprise when Mom sat down at the single-deck blackjack table with Megan and me. I figured she'd watch for awhile and then retire to the room to catch up on some leisurely reading. But no. Mom sat down, cashed $100 in chips and joined in. Luckily we had a great dealer who was willing to teach and have a good time. Megan and I lost our daily gambling budget, but Mom came out $20 or $30 ahead. Megan and I were delighted for her, not so much for ourselves. We also made some Canadian friends while we sat at the table. They were barely 21 and when the dealer asked them for ID, they tossed out Ontario drivers' licenses. We told them we were from Minnesota. They smiled and told us Minnesota was "Canada light." They aren't far off, actually. Though they were a little inebriated, they were more amusing than irritating. I think one of them was trying to hit on Megan, but apparently he missed the wedding ring and pregnant tummy on her. It was funny to watch though.
Friday we walked one half of the strip, went back to the spa for manicures and pedicures and then went to our first show, La Reve, at the Wynn hotel/casino. We had wanted to go see Cirque du Soleil's "O", but tickets to that show were sold out. I was surprised. I could foresee Cher, or Celine Dion or Elton John or the like being sold out, but "O" isn't a new show and could (in theory) be performed for many years to come. The aforementioned performers will expire, at some point. Their shows, I mean. Their shows. Not the performers. Although I suppose they will expire too at some point. (On that note, I saw that Don Rickles is still performing a show and he's in his 80s . . .)
We hopped a cab down to the Encore (next to the Wynn) to get some supper before the show. We settled on a restaurant that was mostly empty in the Encore. Apparently our desire to eat supper at an entirely appropriate Midwestern-time of 5:30 is unusual for Las Vegas. Our waiter approached our table and offered us something to drink. As he handed us the wine list he asked us, "Would you like some Pellegrino or Fiji?" I shrugged, looked at Mom, since Megan's pregnant and can't drink, and asked her if she was going to be drinking any wine that night. She didn't recognize the wines he offered us either. We discussed it briefly and I told our waiter that we would have to look at the wine list for a few minutes before deciding. Our waiter looked a little confused and then said slowly, "I think you may have misunderstood me. I was offering you water."
Cue uproarious laughter from Megan, Mom and me as we realized that he had rattled off names of bottled water.
"We'll have regular water, thank you," we informed the waiter. I guess that's what happens when you grow up somewhere (like Minneapolis) where the tap water is so clean and tasty that you don't ever drink bottled water. We were just three unsophisticated, tap-water bumpkins. We laughed for a good long while after that. I have no idea what the waiter must have thought of us at that point. I explained to him later on, as a peace offering of sorts, that we didn't drink bottled water and as a result were unaware of the brand names he had thrown out. (Now if he would have mentioned something like Aquafina, I might have caught that. But even that seemed a little low-class for this restaurant.)
After eating our supper we headed to the show, which was pretty good. It was a Cirque-style show, with water elements like "O". There were aerial acrobatics and strong men and lots of diving into water from ridiculous heights. And synchronized swimming - quite a bit of that. I've never seen synchronized swimming in person, and I'm quite sure these performers had access to some sort of breathing apparatus under the water, but it was still impressive. I did still have to giggle though, thinking of that old Saturday Night Live skit with Martin Short, Harry Shearer and Christopher Guest, which is one of my favorite SNL skits of all time.
After La Reve we headed back to our hotel and crawled into bed, because it was almost 11 and we were beat. (Again, this was a different trip than my 2006 trip.) We watched a little Olympics and the called it a night. The next day would bring more walking and another show.
One of the things I believe about Las Vegas, more than most other vacation destinations, is that the people that you travel with really dictate what kind of a trip you're going to have. I've been to Las Vegas once before, in April of 2006. On that trip I was with three female friends all about my age and all single. (Well, one of us wasn't exactly single, but she enjoyed flirting with the guys we met regardless.) Needless to say, that trip was a little more wild than this trip with my mother and my 20-weeks-along pregnant sister. But I enjoyed both trips equally, if for completely different reasons.
We had a room on the strip side of the hotel, meaning our view was the replica Eiffel Tower and the Bellagio. The three of us were mesmerized by the fountains in front of the Bellagio. I could sit there and watch them all day. I'm not sure why they're so fascinating, but I appreciate the artistry and engineering that combine to make the water perform in sync with the music. And, honestly, how can you not smile when it's nighttime, the strip is lit up like electricity is going out of style, and columns of water are swaying in rhythm to Frank Sinatra's "Luck Be A Lady"? (Disclosure: I have a soft spot for "Guys and Dolls", the musical my high school performed my senior year. I wasn't in it - I never had the nerve to try out, a lasting regret - but I had many friends who were in theater and they were just terrific, especially in that production.)
We spent Thursday afternoon relaxing and catching up. We booked massages at the spa in the hotel and let the masseurs work out some of the kinks the flights had introduced to our bodies. We even went down to the casino to play some Blackjack, or "21" as Mom insists on calling it. My sister can usually win money playing blackjack and I usually break even so blackjack is our game of choice. Really, the only other casino game I know how to play at all is roulette and, as I mentioned about the trip to Lake Tahoe, roulette is a giant wheel of evil. I wasn't sure what mom was going to do while we gambled since mom never gambles save spending $1 on a lottery ticket every now and again when the pot gets big. That's her equivalent of living life on the edge.
So it was quite to my surprise when Mom sat down at the single-deck blackjack table with Megan and me. I figured she'd watch for awhile and then retire to the room to catch up on some leisurely reading. But no. Mom sat down, cashed $100 in chips and joined in. Luckily we had a great dealer who was willing to teach and have a good time. Megan and I lost our daily gambling budget, but Mom came out $20 or $30 ahead. Megan and I were delighted for her, not so much for ourselves. We also made some Canadian friends while we sat at the table. They were barely 21 and when the dealer asked them for ID, they tossed out Ontario drivers' licenses. We told them we were from Minnesota. They smiled and told us Minnesota was "Canada light." They aren't far off, actually. Though they were a little inebriated, they were more amusing than irritating. I think one of them was trying to hit on Megan, but apparently he missed the wedding ring and pregnant tummy on her. It was funny to watch though.
Friday we walked one half of the strip, went back to the spa for manicures and pedicures and then went to our first show, La Reve, at the Wynn hotel/casino. We had wanted to go see Cirque du Soleil's "O", but tickets to that show were sold out. I was surprised. I could foresee Cher, or Celine Dion or Elton John or the like being sold out, but "O" isn't a new show and could (in theory) be performed for many years to come. The aforementioned performers will expire, at some point. Their shows, I mean. Their shows. Not the performers. Although I suppose they will expire too at some point. (On that note, I saw that Don Rickles is still performing a show and he's in his 80s . . .)
We hopped a cab down to the Encore (next to the Wynn) to get some supper before the show. We settled on a restaurant that was mostly empty in the Encore. Apparently our desire to eat supper at an entirely appropriate Midwestern-time of 5:30 is unusual for Las Vegas. Our waiter approached our table and offered us something to drink. As he handed us the wine list he asked us, "Would you like some Pellegrino or Fiji?" I shrugged, looked at Mom, since Megan's pregnant and can't drink, and asked her if she was going to be drinking any wine that night. She didn't recognize the wines he offered us either. We discussed it briefly and I told our waiter that we would have to look at the wine list for a few minutes before deciding. Our waiter looked a little confused and then said slowly, "I think you may have misunderstood me. I was offering you water."
Cue uproarious laughter from Megan, Mom and me as we realized that he had rattled off names of bottled water.
"We'll have regular water, thank you," we informed the waiter. I guess that's what happens when you grow up somewhere (like Minneapolis) where the tap water is so clean and tasty that you don't ever drink bottled water. We were just three unsophisticated, tap-water bumpkins. We laughed for a good long while after that. I have no idea what the waiter must have thought of us at that point. I explained to him later on, as a peace offering of sorts, that we didn't drink bottled water and as a result were unaware of the brand names he had thrown out. (Now if he would have mentioned something like Aquafina, I might have caught that. But even that seemed a little low-class for this restaurant.)
After eating our supper we headed to the show, which was pretty good. It was a Cirque-style show, with water elements like "O". There were aerial acrobatics and strong men and lots of diving into water from ridiculous heights. And synchronized swimming - quite a bit of that. I've never seen synchronized swimming in person, and I'm quite sure these performers had access to some sort of breathing apparatus under the water, but it was still impressive. I did still have to giggle though, thinking of that old Saturday Night Live skit with Martin Short, Harry Shearer and Christopher Guest, which is one of my favorite SNL skits of all time.
After La Reve we headed back to our hotel and crawled into bed, because it was almost 11 and we were beat. (Again, this was a different trip than my 2006 trip.) We watched a little Olympics and the called it a night. The next day would bring more walking and another show.
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