Cluck and Tweet

Rain + Cold + More Rain + Vacation = The Best Trip Ever

It all began with this woman:

Well, it didn't all begin with her.  But this trip, and all the memories created, are because of her.  "Her" is my mother-in-law, Rosemary, who looks cute, but is not.  She's distinguished.  She's gracious and kind and doesn't like being called cute.  (Secretly, and very warmly, I still think she's cute.  But don't tell her I said that.)

Seven years ago Rosie brought her oldest daughter's family on a trip with The Boat Company and for seven years we had to endure the photos and stories about this wonderful trip.  I truly thought it sounded nice, but come on... I saw the pictures.  It was rainy and gray and they were dressed for winter.   In the summer. 

I love to travel.  Even more, I love the thought of travel.  When Rosie came to visit us in the spring and said she'd like to take our family and her daughter's family to Alaska I was a bit giddy at the prospects. We didn't initially plan on a Boat Company trip because it's not cheap, but anything we looked at didn't compare in Rosemary's eyes.  It always came back to The Boat Company.  I looked at charters: "Well, it's just not quite like The Boat Company."  I read on-line reviews:  "Doesn't sound like the same experience as The Boat Company."  The Boat Company.  The Boat Company.  So I called Kathy.  At The Boat Company.

Don't ever call Kathy at the Boat Company unless you are prepared to sign up for this trip.  Because there is no fence sitting once Kathy gets ahold of you.  She's enthusiastic and friendly and once crewed the boat herself.  I got off the phone with her once and Anna, who had overheard the conversation said, "Did you make a new friend?"   As if it were the first day of preschool and she was proud of me. 

This was one of our first glimpses of the boat, the Mist Cove, sandwiched between two enormously large cruise ships.  I know there's a large contingency of people who love their cruise ships, but I'm not one of them.  I was so glad not to be on one of those ships.  We had an ongoing discussion amongst ourselves whether it's better to go on a large, less expensive cruise on one of these ships or to not go on a trip at all.  

I don't think there was a consensus one way or another, but my 15-year-old niece, Ginny, who is not a nature girl (I still have hope for her, however, because that girl was game for anything!), thought the twisty slide on top of the Carnival Spirit looked like a lot of fun.

We flew into Juneau and spent two nights here:

 

The Westmark Baranof.  It doesn't look nearly this fancy in person.  If you were to stay here, hypothetically speaking, of course, I would highly recommend requesting a room on the backside of the building unless you want to hear all the street noise and someone yelling for Jimmy at 3 in the morning which is highly disconcerting when your son is named Jimmie and you wonder why people are yelling for him.  And then I would highly, HIGHLY recommend that you do NOT get a room next to Eric and Lisa for two nights because they are she is quite loud and even louder after you complain to the front desk and they call to ask them to be quieter.  Let's just say I was really glad Anna slept through it all and that my ears needed a solid bleaching after that night.

Juneau is an interesting mix of outdoorsy tourist town and cruise line destination.  I liked the outdoorsy part of it and there were some great little shops hidden amongst the traps, but I learned that many of the shops closer to where the cruise ships dock are actually owned by the cruise ship companies.  Which would explain all the sales on Tanzanite and Tourmaline and Gold that look exactly like the sales of jewelry that you see in the Caymans, for example.   

We rented a wreck in Juneau for 24 hours at $135 for a van that fit all 9 of us very comfortably.  It didn't come with a driver, but we had our own who constantly referred to himself in the third person so he didn't receive a tip.

There's nowhere far to go around Juneau since it's landlocked, but we wanted to see Mendenhall Glacier, our first for the trip:

At the time we thought the ice floes were amazing.  Then we saw this:

Not knowing that in a couple days we would be doing this:

and watching this:

You poor people.  Are you still here?  Because this is just the beginning.  

One of These Things Is Not Like the Others

Part One:  Giddy with Anticipation

Part Two:  I Hope We Can Figure Out Which Boat Is Ours

We'll be getting on one of these boats today (my niece hopes that it's the one with the twirly slide on top!  It's not.  Don't tell her.) and will be off the grid for a week.  Probably.  By the time we get back we'll all be full of sunshine and smiles.  All of us.

Money, Schmoney

I really, really started to hate the word ECONOMY sometime around mid-March.  It made me feel all first-trimester kind-of sick every time someone even mentioned it.  But recently,I've begun to look at that word-- and what it means to our family-- in a different light. A values re-clarification sort of light.  And you know what? It seems to be helping.  Part of my re-framing this summer has been to make an effort to get back to the basics-- to use the beauty of our surroundings and the plenty of activities to be found nearby as a way to fill our days with richness....all for free (except Noah and sailing. that one's about bank-breaking, but that's okay). 

Anyway, I'm thinking that I'm going to kick off a week of what to do for free with your family kind of stuff, and will choose things that hopefully you can find within a half-hour or hour radius of your own home too.   

1) Visit a local farm.  Check http://www.pickyourown.org for a listing of farms with a U-Pick feature around the country.  We spend at least an hour each week at our local farm of choice, Pond Hill, where we have a CSA share and a community garden plot (which, um, we didn't actually plant this year. But still).

Visiting a farm not only connects you to local growers, it gives you a sense of peace; a deeper understanding of time and nature and how things happen just when they are supposed too, like the birth of these sweet piglets:

 (be warned, however: if you are still nursing, this image 

will register very quickly in your toddler's mind, and will leave her scrambling up your shirt saying "Num! Num!"

You can visit the vegetables, if there is a market-- even better, because this time of year berries and colors are exploding all over the place and might just entice little hands to pop some new good-for-you-foods into little mouths!  

At Pond Hill, there are tons of other things to see, from the livestock

to the tire swing (talk about joy from a day gone-by...)

 

And if you are really lucky, you might catch kids as cute as these two smooching up a storm near the piglets. Or not, but these pictures just kill me, so they are going in anyway.

In the Pink (and Green)

We live in a resort community.  

No, I don't think you quite understand.  

Think LIlly Pulitzer.  Pants with golf bags on them.  Nannies.  Private planes.  Gates.

That finger of land you see above jutting into Little Traverse Bay is Harbor Point, an historic and exclusive resort area that is gated and private and can't be entered by any mere mortal.  I'm kidding of course.  It is gated and private and after a certain time in the summer you can't access the cottages unless by foot or horse-drawn carriage, but it is also magical and provides employment for many locals. Most Pointers are old-money humble and unassuming, the kind of people you don't mind having millions of dollars because they do good things with it. 

On the other side of town, the bookend to Harbor Point, is Wequetonsing, another old resort filled to the brim with houses like this:

Oops!  I mean cottages like this.  

A friend of mind describes Harbor Springs as a movie set of a small town:

She might have a point.

Kate and I are local riffraff.  But that doesn't mean we don't get sucked into the resort air, swirled around in eddies of Pucci and Jack Rogers sandals:

 

These won't take the place of my Keens, but really, who doesn't love this sandal?

So it should come as no surprise that my recent muse has been pink.  And green.  Because it just doesn't get more resorty or preppy than these two colors.

    

Any and all of these items can be found at Three Pines Studio in Cross Village.  Just a little, blatant self-promotion.

And now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Etsy has this fun, fantastic search feature where you can look for items based on color.  It's fun.  It's fantastic.  And in this preppy mood of mine it turned up these wonderful finds:

Which, strangely, is making me crave watermelon.  

I love these two colors both apart and together.  

But don't hold that against me.

...alison...

 

Michigan... It's Not as Bad as You Think.

 

We live in Michigan.  Yes, it has the highest unemployment rate in the United States.  Yes, the Detroit Lions had a record of 0-16 for the 2008 football season.  Yes, the Tigers finished 2008 in last place in the AL Central division (and lest you think that I actually have this information readily at my disposal, let me just say Thank You to Wikipedia).  And it's true that according to Forbes Detroit is the most dangerous city in the U.S.  

Big deal.  

Can you show where you live by holding up your hands?  Yeah, I didn't think so.  (For the record, we live up near the top of the middle finger, appropriately enough.)

This is what it looks like up near the top of the middle finger:

Vast expanses of water that give the oceans a run for their money.  We get to ski in the extremely long winter, cursing the very season come March, April and May.  And we play soccer in June when it's still snowing but we choose to call it sleet and are a little bit thankful that our down coats are still hanging in the front closet.  We have drawers full of the top designers: the North Face, Marmot, LLBean, Patagonia, and Isis.  

My husband is from Flint.  His mother is from Flint.  His sister lives in Flint.    We live so much farther north that Flint is like an eccentric old uncle you are a little afraid of and kind of feel sorry for. Then, when he's just about to say goodbye, he leans over and slips you a silver dollar and forever you have slightly fond feelings for the guy.  

That's Flint.

And this is Flint:

But so is this:

This is one of the homes in the stately, old neighborhood that is part of Flint's illustrious past, a past my mother-in-law remembers as a great place to grow up and also raise a family.  This house is going for $615,000 and is 6500 square feet with a maid's quarters, hardwoods throughout, and 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, and 2 half-baths.  It's one of the reasons Gordon Young wrote this article for Slate.

Detroit is another story entirely.  

I'm from the Upper Peninsula, the younger, wilder, cheaper sister of the Lower Peninsula.  We have an utterly awesomely beautiful bridge that joins the two peninsulas:

The Mackinac Bridge.  Never, ever is it pronounced "Mack-i-nack," despite what you've heard.  It's always "Mack-i-naw." And it always takes my breath away.  

People who live in the UP are called Yoopers, a name we're quite proud of but which is always said with just a hint of a superior sneer by those who aren't and never will be Yoopers.  We call the people who live in the Lower Peninsula Trolls since they live below the bridge.  

It's all about the bridge.

Detroit is way, way, way below the bridge.  But whereas Flint is like your strange but harmless uncle, Detroit is your brother's dangerous friend, the one your parents don't want around the house, the one who is definitely doing things he shouldn't, but the one who would have your back if you were ever caught up in a fight.  

Not that that would ever happen.

Sweet Juniper is a beautifully written love song to the city of Detroit and the people who live there.  It's a lot more than that, but its bones are Detroit.  This is Sweet Juniper's Detroit:

Once thriving, once beautiful, Detroit still has a disheveled elegance, kind of like Little Edie from Grey Gardens:

See the resemblance?  This photo, by the way, is from a fantastic Time photo essay that you can find here.

But Detroit and Flint are just two very small, very loud representations of this exquisitely beautiful state.  And frankly, if you haven't visited, you're missing out.

I hate to brag, but I've ridden horseback in the mountains.  It was stunning.  I've seen the Parthenon.  I've gazed at the Mediterranean.  I've swum in the Caribbean Sea.  I've shared a beach with Elle Macpherson (I don't recommend sharing a beach with a supermodel, just a little tip).  I've dived with sea turtles on Kauaii.  Okay, maybe I like to brag a little bit.  

My point is that every place I've been has not been any more beautiful than the place I call home.  

 

Because this, too, is Michigan.

...alison...

I was going to post 10 shots, one spot

But then I came across this photo, taken looking out over Lake Michigan this week from a friend's beachside cabin.  

And I realized it is worth 10 pictures in and of itself.

We live here folks. How ridiculous is that???

I Can't Really Complain. Well, Yeah I Can, But I'm Not Going To. Plus, This Post Is a Little Violent.

I'm no Pollyanna.  Really.  I know that comes as a complete and utter surprise to those of you who know me, but I've been known to complain.  Only about truly important things like sailboats (as in getting me out on one, although I'm quite delightful once we're under sail and all of the spiders have been knocked into the water and I have a drink in my hand... you would all love me then), or having to make dinner (AGAIN?! I just fed you all last night!), or putting laundry away (yes, that basket on the living room couch is clean.  Still.  And, yes, it has been sitting there since last week), or come March, April, or even May, about not having a vacation home somewhere like the U.S. Virgin Islands.  Because is that so much to ask?

This, however, is what I wake up to every morning:

Lake Michigan.  Vast and awe-inspiring and when the sun hits it just right, around 4 in the afternoon, it shimmers like sequins in the sun.  There's nothing subtile about it.  I've seen water spouts form in front of our house like a long, bony finger appearing from the sky.  And rain come across the lake in transparent curtains of beads.  Ice forms a deceptive tundra complete with ice caves.  Fall leaves jump out from the different blues of lake and sky.  One a reflection of the other.  Both can be intimidating, stunningly alive, forceful, scary.  Or, like today, quiet, like a secret.  

I can't really complain.

And I don't have any reason to ask for a vacation home.  None at all.

Kate and I live in a killer resort area.  Not a resort area for killers, but such a beautiful area of the world that one would kill to live there.  Figuratively, of course.  Also, I'm trying to sound hip.

Earlier today Kate's husband, Justin, took us out in a boat to watch our kids in sailing school and I just thanked the good Lord above that I was lucky enough to live in such a great area. 

On the way home we stopped at our nearby farm market, Pond Hill, to check on the garden we planted on Sunday.

Nothing had changed.  And it's been 3 days!  I'm an impatient gardener.

We drove around the farm, and because I have no flowers at my house (inevitably I kill them... there are a lot of references to killing in this post.  I apologize for the violence.) I took pictures of theirs.

And because we don't have any chickens or cows, I took pictures of them, too.  

We will never have chickens.  We had some when I was growing up.  They smell.  Should I ever mention that I'd like a chicken, please give me a bottle of ammonia to sniff.  The urge will quickly pass.

See that black spot in the above picture?  It's a herd of cows.  Huddled.  

Jimmie claimed the cows were at a funeral.  He reinacted it..."Poor Uncle Joe!  He was too young to die!"  

Anna said they were attending a cow meeting. Cow A: Did you know Mrs. Chicken was going out with Mr. Goose?  Cow B: So odd!  I thought she was racist!

Oh, the fun we could have with cow plays.  But even though my sister is a world-renowned expert in bovine mastitis, we will never have a cow.  I wouldn't even know what to do with one.

Farms are great places to take pictures, like of this thingamajig.

 

or the landscape itself:

If you hear me complain, just hit me.  

It's like this...but not as pretty. And it smells funny.

While Sam and I were living the life of luxury here:

he leaned over to me and whispered seductively, "The only other place that complares to here is Eaton's Ranch," and I sighed with contentment, imagining a place equally lovely as Curtain Bluff and ordered another drink with an umbrella in it. 

So you can kind of sympathize when three years later I arrived here:

and I felt like I was missing something.  Something like a cabana boy. 

Eaton's Ranch is located in Wolf, Wyoming, just outside of Sheridan and is the country's first real dude ranch.  Its history is fascinating but that didn't change the fact that when we arrived I didn't see blue water, luxurious accommodations, or a wine list at dinner.  What I saw was this:

 

Dust.  Lots and lots of dust.

And I felt like this person:

 

who showed up at a party being held by these people:

...I didn't feel like I quite fit in.

Sam's mother began coming to Eaton's Ranch (hereon to be referred to as "THE Ranch," like it's the only ranch in existance.  Because in this family it is.) in the 1940s and I don't think it has changed much.  It's still run by descendants of the original Eatons.  And the accommodations can be charming:

This is the cabin where my sister-in-law's family stayed with my mother-in-law.  It's pretty much as cute as all get out.  Our cabin was across the way and had a big, long porch, a tiny sitting room, and three bedrooms with twin beds in them.  And it smelled.  Like horse butt.  Not horse manure, because I rather like the smell of that.  Not the smell of a barn or tack, because that has a leathery undertone that is rather comforting.   No, horse butt.  Not that I've ever actually smelled horse butt, but what I imagine a horse's butt would smell like.

Upon arriving to your first meal, everyone is presented with a napkin ring.  Rosemary, my mother-in-law, still has all of hers dating from the 1940s.  They make a great souvenir, but they are also practical during your time at the ranch since they hold your napkin.  Napkins aren't washed with great regularity and it's important that you keep track of your napkin and ring or you will be held accountable either by having your napkin ring go missing somewhere around the ranch or losing your right to breathe or something in between the two.  And meals are hearty, but not gourmet.  More like what I would cook while at home.  But with more grease.  Jimmie was 18 months old and would only eat bread with mayonnaise and bananas and noodles. He would play with his horse napkin ring during dinner and the mayo on his hands wore off all the paint:

Before: After:

Jimmie was 18 months old and it's really hard to explain time zones to anyone under 25, so he was awake every morning by 4.  But he looked like this, so you couldn't really get very mad:

and his dad got up with him (always marry someone who doesn't sleep well in preparation for these moments) and took him outside to watch the horses come in.

Rosie gifted us this trip and it truly was priceless, for the memories alone:

Never do this, unless you are prepared to cart your girl child to riding lessons and barns and equestrian team meets while listening to her whine ask for a horse at every opportunity including Easter and probably 4th of July. 

Grandma Rosie has a wonderful tradition of taking each of her grandchildren on a 10-year-old trip and two years ago she brought Anna to Eaton's Ranch, now referred to as Anna's "Favorite Place on Earth," as in, "Can we go to the Ranch?" "Do you think we could take a trip this year to the Ranch?" or "When can we go back to the Ranch?"  This trip with Grandma was pretty special because her brother and sister took their 10-year-old grandsons as well. 

Here's Uncle Dave, Anna, Stanley, Charlie, and Grandma.  Aunt Ginger, who died in November, is taking the picture, which just makes me feel all wistful inside and thankful Anna had this time with her delightful great aunt. 

So, Eaton's Ranch may not be Curtain Bluff.  Actually, in no way, shape, or form is Eaton's Ranch like Curtain Bluff.  It's like comparing dust to water, oranges to french fries, pizza to crab cakes.  But I get what Sam meant, because I love the place.  And by the time we returned home, tired, hot, delayed by a day, I emptied out all of our dirty clothes from our suitcases and sniffed them.  I kid you not.  I held up the dirty jeans, the cowboy boots layered in dust and manure, and breathed in the scent of Eaton's Ranch.  Because it no longer smelled like horse butt.  It smelled like every memory we made there.

--A

A Little Name Dropping at Curtain Bluff. With O.J.

I have a confession. I am not a celebrity.   I don't even know any celebrities.  But I once pretended to be one. . .not like an imposter or impersonator: 

 

(I'm not really the Pope.  Or Abe Lincoln.  I might be Sammy Davis, Jr., however.)

And maybe "pretend" isn't even the right word.  It's more like I was treated so well I could have been a celebrity.  Yeah, that's it.

Today, my peeps, it's all about Curtain Bluff, a small and elegant resort located in Antigua (pronounced "Ann-tee-Gah."  Just a little pet peeve of mine.  Like "ex-presso" instead of "ess-presso.").  And although I usually write about my virtual travels, this is a place I've actually been to. 

The story goes that this man (shown here with his hot wife, Chelle),

Howard Hulford, was flying over the island and fell in love with a piece of land.  At the time the Antiguan government, hoping to bring in tourist dollars, would only sell large pieces of land to developers who would build resorts.  So, rather than give up his dream, Howard built Curtain Bluff and made it into one the premier resorts in the world.  It's consistently mentioned in Conde Nast Traveler's  Gold List. 

We certainly can't afford it. 

 And that is where this man comes in:

"This man" is Sam's grandfather, the man in the center of the picture, holding the Antigua poster.  I think he might have liked being the center of attention.  His lovely wife Mary is in the red dress (he used to go out and buy her Pucci dresses...just because.  A gene that was not passed down to his grandson.), and their good friends, Roy and Dottie, are on either side of him. 

Back in the 1960s the Caribbean was undeveloped and just opening up to vacation travel.  Actually, I think vacation travel was just becoming a possibility.  This foursome decided to travel to Antigua, and with reservations already made, arrived at their resort.  Only to find that the resort had no record of them.  Remember, there weren't that many choices back then.  So they were directed to the newly opened Curtain Bluff.  It was so new that they had rooms to spare.  And a friendship between the travellers and Howard was formed that lasted for many, many years.  Sam's grandfather invested in Howard's resort, an opportunity that is no longer available, and because of that decision made almost 50 years ago, we got to spend a week at this world class resort.

 

Sam is wearing one of his grandfather's old blazers in this photo.  It has golf bags on it.

Sam's grandparents would head to Antigua and Curtain Bluff once a year.  One year a movie was being filmed on the island and members of the cast were staying at the resort.

Yes, that's who you think it is.  Jimmie Rice was thrilled with this picture, so I'm told, and had it hanging in his cottage.  I'm glad he wasn't around to find out O.J.'s true character.  There's something about ignorance being bliss.

When we got to Curtain Bluff, Sam turned into a person that I didn't know:  he was almost giddy, he wasn't crabby, and the weight of the world wasn't sucking the life out of him.  It took me three days to get used to this side of him. 

I realize as I write this that Sam's grandfather, whom I have never met, has still had a profound effect on my life.  Family will do that to you.  His decision allowed us to create memories that we will forever have.  I was pregnant with Anna while at Curtain Bluff, but didn't realize it.  Which may explain why I ordered kidneys for dinner one night.  And our son is named for this man who went by "Jimmie" (yes, with an "i-e") until his dying day.  I wonder what decisions that I make will affect my family fifty years from now.  Here's to hoping the effects are positive.  I can guarantee that they won't involve a white Bronco.

--A

Jost Van Dyke...No Relation to Dick

Perhaps because it’s May and not yet 60 degrees outside. Perhaps because the leaves are barely dotting the brown branches in our woods. Perhaps because the color of my skin is so white that even Edward Cullen would look tan next to me.

Also known as Cedric Diggory

Or perhaps it’s because members of our family just returned from an 8 day catamaran vacation in the British Virgin Islands. Yeah. That’s it.

So, while I drooled looked over their pictures and pretended I was on that trip with them, I did what I often do when other people go on vacation and haven’t invited me. I pepper them with questions. People love that.

I am not annoying.

What I found out is that out of all the islands that they visited, my family members, whose opinion is of great value (are you reading this family members?), loved the island of Jost Van Dyke out of all the islands in the BVIs. I thought it might be Virgin Gorda, the home of Little Dix Bay, a frequent destination of mine when I virtually travel:

I am the tall, leggy blond lying on the beach.

But it’s not. So I’ve looked up Jost Van Dyke to find the best places to stay. The Soggy Dollar Bar and Sandcastle Hotel looks fun

Wastin' Away Again in Margaritaville

And at less that $3,000 a week for 2 people on a MAP (modified American plan, which means that the price includes 2 meals a day), this is a pretty good deal. It is also the number one choice in Jost Van Dyke on TripAdvisor . Okay, it’s the only choice on Jost Van Dyke. Unfortunately, children under 16 cannot stay at the Sandcastle Hotel, so this eliminates it for us.

White Bay Villas and Seaside Cottages also look promising.

This looks promising. I promise.

And it has gotten good reviews on TripAdvisor (in the “Specialty Lodging” category…which has a total of 3 entries) and Fodor’s. No meals are included (buying groceries on Tortola or St. Thomas is recommended) and the price is between $$ and $$$$. I know. I’m not sure what that means, either. If it means between $2 and $4, I’m leaving for the airport immediately. But for some reason, I don’t think that’s what it means.

So I checked out Vacation Rental by Owner (VRBO), my old standby, and found this:

Yes, it's pink. Or sunburned.

This is a dream location for my family. It’s on a small island not over-run with tourists (because when you come from a tourist town, the last thing you want to surround yourself with is tourists…not that you’re one yourself or anything), it’s right on the beach, and some guy named Frankie is the property manager. How much more tropical can you get? It’s a little pricey ($3450 to $4450 a week for 3 bedrooms…which seems a lot more than $$ or $$$$), but if you went with another couple who had no children but loved yours and didn’t find them at all annoying and who wanted to pay half just for the pleasure of your company, this place would be totally affordable.

This is also available:

"Bring me a fruity drink, hot cabana boy."

and is quite affordable at $1400 to $2550 per week depending on the time of year and number of people.

The last place I found was Sandy Ground Estates, a group of villas all located in the same relative area of the island. They share a beach (or as they seem to call it, “sandy ground”). Any one of the villas would work for me, but this may be my favorite:

My one complaint being that the two bedrooms are separated by a floor and I like my kids to be closer to us than that. I’m funny that way. This rental is similar in price to the previous entry.

Apparently there are few options on Jost Van Dyke, and I won’t be scheduling my flight any time soon, so I might just dress my husband up in a speedo and make him bring me a Piña Colada while I sit in the hot tub. He would totally do that.

This is not really Sam.

–A

Culture...We Got It

We live in Northern Michigan.  We live an hour-and-a-half from the nearest mall.  If you don’t have to stop for gas.  This is a cultural event in our area:

So when we decided to take a trip to Grandma’s we also decided to milk it for all it was worth and cram in as much culture as possible.  So we went here:

“Here”  is the  Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park  in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  We kind of had to go since we’re good friends with Frederik and Lena:

The horse, an homage to Leonardo da Vinci,  is mammoth:

and quite awe-inspiring and also quite male, which many people seem compelled to comment on (”That horse is no gelding, heh, heh”), including my 10-year-old:

We’re very mature.

But the sculptures are in every style, shape, and size, so there’s something for everyone.  Like this for the horse-lover:

 This is a  Deborah Butterfield   horse made from bronze.  No matter how close you get to it, it still looks like driftwood.

Or the music lover:

Aria, by Alexander Liberman.  I can completely understand why it’s called Aria.  Which I like, because it makes me feel smart.

Or if you’re feeling zen:

or Herculean:

there’s this sculpture,  Disk in the Form of a Desert Rose , by Arnoldo Pomodoro.  We got our money’s worth from that one.

This is my favorite:

Julia, by   Keith Haring. 

There’s also a children’s garden which, among other things, will give you strange ailments like “big hand disease:”

 a condition that makes it very difficult to pick your nose, unless this is coming out of it:

which would mean that you have another problem entirely.

But, of course, these things may only happen if you’re seeking out culture with our family.  We like our art to be interactive.

This time of year, March 1 through April 30, the Frederik Meijer Gardens hosts the largest temporary tropical butterfly exhibit in the nation. 

Housed in a tropical conservatory, thousands of butterflies circle over and around you, sometimes landing on your head.  It’s worth wrestling the three hundred toddlers in order to view the diversity of the butterflies and behold the tropical flowers.  Especially in Michigan.  In March.

And Grandma is such a trooper that she’d put many 20-year-olds to shame.  I had such a great time that I never once had to be like this:

 (Mad Mom, Tom Otterness)

Because that is so not pretty. 

I’ve only touched on the very basics of what is available at the Frederik Meijer Gardens.  To find out more, click on the link above.   It’s an affordable and fun way to get your daily dose of culture.

road trippin'

Road Trippin'

You know that saying, there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes? Well, I think it also applies to road tripping with children. There is no such thing as a bad passenger, only bad preparation. Okay, okay, if you have a car puker (which we did, for a while) that does sort of constitute as a bad passenger. But still. Barf bags in seat pockets pretty much eliminate the worst of it. Probably not the best way to amp you up for a road trip-- talking about puke and all. So how about we focus on this? Smiling faces uninterrupted family time better for the planet (and your wallet) then flying on a jetplane I just noticed that none of these photos were actually taken in a car. Ah! Here's one: children who are securely strapped in. As in, cannot run. Or get into stuff. For hours on end. Yes, I will proudly proclaim my absolute love of the road trip. Ever since my teenage and collegiate years, when, as a dreadlock-loving, handmade dress wearing wild child I criss-crossed the countryside with friends and boyfriends in cars and Greyhounds and the like, the white and yellow lines of smooth highway pavement have been embedded in my heart. There is something about the endlessness of the road, the forward motion of the drive, that sparks all sorts of wonder and adventure. I stick my feet on the dash (did I mention my husband loves to drive-- bonus), crank the radio up, and just soak in the sunshine. Because it is always sunny on my roadtrips. Do you hear me weatherman-predicting-thunderstorms-through-Ohio-today? Always. Sunny. When Noah was four, Justin and I took a two-plus week road trip along the East Coast. It was the kind of road trip I love most-- no agenda, no destination, go where ever the mood strikes. It was so easy, traveling with one little guy in the backseat. (Because I am a freak about this stuff, I must add here that this was taken in an old Volvo wagon, and it had a built in booster seat. The whole five-point harness for four year-olds really wasn't the rage yet. Honest. Ahem.) He was content to look at books, to jabber in his pre-school way, to take pictures of his feet and the backs of our heads with my camera. When Max was three months old, we packed both boys up and drove the 30-plus hours to Big Sky, Montana. It was another pretty easy trip. Stuff was a bit of a problem (as in, we could barley see the boys because I packed an insane amount of baby equipment that all proved to be unnecessary). We got better, though, trip after trip. The boys became road warriors (after Max stopped ralphing every time we went more than 45 miles, that is). Fast forward to last year. We packed a three month old Lizzie and the two boys into our newly christened mini-van. Oh, the room! Oh, the DVD players! It was the first time Justin and I had ever worried about a road trip. We were officially outnumbered. Would mutiny occur? Nope. It was great. And here's why: we take travel packing seriously. As in: we make sure every kid has enough stuff to do to stay busy exactly 85-percent of the trip (and only 85-percent, because hey, they have to learn to appease themselves too, right?) Here's the breakdown of key items we keep handy: Books a plenty. Unless your kid gets carsick reading-- okay, even if your kid gets carsick reading-- have them pick a few books for the road. Also, audio books are a huge must. We take enough for double the amount of time we're in the car, just in case one of the books doesn't pass muster. With a portable CD player, or with cars that come with earphones, you have the option of listening to the books with your child, or if they aren't appropriate for younger ears (or you just want to rock out with your feet on the dash), your child can get lost in a story without having to read/vomit. Small toys. My boys love little tech deck skateboards and lego packs-- but beware, these things are easily dropped and fall into the "mama, can you reach back and get that..." category. I love the little Playmobile magnetic travel sets, and sticker books for the toddler crowd are always a hit. Just be prepared to have stickers cover the inside of said toddler's window. Crayons/dry erase marker boards. We bring our schooling dry erase boards and markers along, in case Max gets an urge "to do homework" (he's still at that age), and also to just draw, erase, and draw some more. With Lizzie suddenly having a huge interest in coloring, I'll start packing our Stockmar crayons too. These all natural beeswax crayons are great, well, just because they are great, but also because if they happen to wind up in her mouth and no one in the backseat happens to notify me for a few minutes, they are also safe. I like the block variety for little hands. DVDs. This one is a bit tricky in our house. While our fancy schmancy mini-van did come with two drop down DVD players, I really, really don't like the idea of an 18-hour screen fest. That being said, um, we do have two DVD players, and there is nothing-- I mean nothing-- that will keep wee ones quieter and more content than being glued to the ol' tele. And so, we compromise. I bring a slug of their favorite movies and save them for when it is too dark to read or draw, or when they are just plain losing the plot. I also netflix some fun stuff that I know they would never watch unless they are, well, hog-tied and strapped down. Last year, they plowed through the entire first season of the Brady Bunch. And loved it. With golden oldies like Gilligan's Island, the Andy Griffith Show, and musicals like The Sound of Music to pick from, there are plenty of options that make me feel a little better about what they are watching (as in no Diego or Star Wars cartoons blasting from the back. Pretty please). Snacks. Oh, I cannot stress enough the importance of the all-accessible snack bag. We load up so that no one starts bonking from starvation. I'll admit, we don't neccessairly do "keep the car tidy" snacks (i.e. crackers galore) but we do vacuum up the majority of the mess between the going there and coming home trips. We also keep a small cooler with juice, milk, water and lunch fixin's (like turkey and cheese and fruit) so that on the off chance we're in a groove, we can eat and keep driving, and if not, we can eat at a rest stop and save both money and our stomachs from fast food gut rot. Good old-fashioned car game fun. We actually still love, despite all the technology we have available, to play the games Justin and I played as kids-- the I Spy, the license plate game, the name-something-you-see-that-starts-with-this-letter game, or be as silent as a statue (which unfortunately never lasts very long for more than three seconds). Unless your kid is doing this: We also play "make up a story," in which the person who is "it" gets to start a story about whatever they want, and then we all take turns adding to it until we get back to the person who started the story, and they get to put the ending on it. Here's an online resource for these kinds of games and more ideas: www.minivanmom.com (seriously). And then, there's always talking. Because that's what family trip is all about, right? Seriously. Because they grow so fast. They go from this, to that, in like, under 10 seconds. A word to the wise: never, ever teach your children the song "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Also, in our car, the kids get three free "are we there yet's" and after that, we start docking that coveted DVD time. Amazing how fast those words disappear from their sweet little vocabularies. Adios folks-- as you read this, we are in the car, heading to Asheville, North Carolina. I'll post when I get there. From a grocery store. A very, very lovely grocery store. --K

I heart Asheville.

I'm still on vacation. We just settled in to a beachside condo in Carolina Beach. As I type, I'm listening to the ocean pulling at the shore. Okay, actually, I am listening to the dishwasher, which sounds eerily like the ocean at high tide.  But still. I'm at the beach, after four glorious days in the green mountain town of Asheville.   I'll be honest: I'm having a hard time writing about our trip.  I'm not sure if it has something to do with trying to process your vacation while you are still, um, on vacation, or if it is because it is early and warm and I want to go do yoga on the porch, listening the the water and feeling the expanse of the ocean.  I'm sorry. That almost sounds like bragging.  Anyway, I was planning to write a bunch of stuff about Asheville, to convince you that if you ever want to go to a town so packed with good food and good people that you sort of feel intoxicated just being there, you might want to fly the coop to Asheville.  I was planning to write about how the restaurants are almost all kid-friendly, fairly priced, and so unique. I was planning to tell you about the daily excursions the kids and I took while my husband was off road biking on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But maybe I'll just show you.  The thing I love most about family vacations, no matter where they may be, is the time together.  It isn't that my family doesn't carve time out for one another at home; we do, a great deal.  It is just that when you are somewhere else, everyone is in a different mode. There is no housework or long to-do list weighing on me. There are no friends to call or homework to finish. There is this sense of adventure and exploration and being open to the moment that shines in all of us.  I'm aware that capturing this easy nature at home is something I want, that being this fully present is something I strive for in my daily life. It's just that it is so easy when we're away, that I can simply sit back and just. enjoy. So this is us, eating at my favorite restaurant in Asheville, The Early Girl. The Early Girl-- with its local, organic produce and fantastic vegetarian options (not that the rest of the eateries in Asheville lack those things, because it is as common as beer-- locally brewed, of course-- on a menu there)-- the Eggs Benny is my favorite dish. Think a bed of corn grit cake, poached eggs, phenomenal tomato sauce and spinach. Oh. Heaven. Can't you tell by the smile? Of course, the kids loved the Asheville Pizza and Brewing Company, a sort of psychadelic pizza joint that is part movie theater, part restaurant and part "Chuck E. Cheese for hippies," as my husband described it. The pizza was actually quite good, and the over-stimulation did, indeed, where off and turn into exhaustion by the time we reached the hotel.   The kids and I spent time everyday meandering through  the downtown streets of Asheville.  From the cool public art, street musicians, and general vibe of the diverse popultion, we all loved just being part of the fabric of the hilly landscape.   Right downtown, there are two great museums-- the Colburn Earth Science and the Health Adventure (I mean, what can be better than a museum that actually makes your child cringe at the ingredients in soda?).  The kids loved running through the Health Adventure, filled with hands-on learning and playing. Even Lizzie got to play there, although she kept picking up an empty baby carrier and bringing it to me. To fill. With a live baby (I know this because every time I tried to put a doll in, she'd chuck it out, say in a demanding tone "bebe" and look at me as if to say, I want a real one mama. Talk to your daddy child. That's all I'm saying). Another day was spent in the expansive and beautiful Arboretum, just minutes from downtown but seemingly out in the middle of no where. From the cool bat exhibit to the hiking trails, we spent hours just walking around, playing along the many paths, and simply enjoying the fact that we were wearing short sleeves. And smiles. We also visited the Western North Carolina Nature Center, another five minute drive from downtown. The kids absolutely love this place, with trails and animals and tons of informative fun.  We walked around, laughed at the playful otter's tricks, and the kids spent time capturing their favorite animals in their vacation books.     Asheville is one of those towns that gets into your blood and just stays there.  Or maybe it is this: or this or this that gets to me.  Whatever it is, I know we're having a riot.   And we're not done. Because we've met up with my parents, my brother, and my cousins for a week. At the beach. I know.  I'm such a brat.

You know that saying, there

You know that saying, there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes?  Well, I think it also applies to road tripping with children. There is no such thing as a bad passenger, only bad preparation.  Okay, okay, if you have a car puker (which we did, for a while) that does sort of constitute as a bad passenger. But still.  Barf bags in seat pockets pretty much eliminate the worst of it. Probably not the best way to amp you up for a road trip-- talking about puke and all.   So how about we focus on this? Smiling faces uninterrupted family time  better for the planet (and your wallet) then flying on a jetplane  I just noticed that none of these photos were actually taken in a car.  Ah! Here's one: children who are securely strapped in. As in, cannot run. Or get into stuff. For hours on end. Yes, I will proudly proclaim my absolute love of the road trip.  Ever since my teenage and collegiate years, when, as a dreadlock-loving, handmade dress wearing wild child I criss-crossed the countryside with friends and boyfriends in cars and Greyhounds and the like, the white and yellow lines of smooth highway pavement have been embedded in my heart.  There is something about the endlessness of the road, the forward motion of the drive, that sparks all sorts of wonder and adventure.  I stick my feet on the dash (did I mention my husband loves to drive-- bonus), crank the radio up, and just soak in the sunshine. Because it is always sunny on my roadtrips. Do you hear me weatherman-predicting-thunderstorms-through-Ohio-today? Always. Sunny. When Noah was four, Justin and I took a two-plus week road trip along the East Coast. It was the kind of road trip I love most-- no agenda, no destination, go where ever the mood strikes. It was so easy, traveling with one little guy in the backseat. (Because I am a freak about this stuff, I must add here that this was taken in an old Volvo wagon, and it had a built in booster seat. The whole five-point harness for four year-olds really wasn't the rage yet. Honest. Ahem.) He was content to look at books, to jabber in his pre-school way, to take pictures of his feet and the backs of our heads with my camera.   When Max was three months old, we packed both boys up and drove the 30-plus hours to Big Sky, Montana.   It was another pretty easy trip. Stuff was a bit of a problem (as in, we could barley see the boys because I packed an insane amount of baby equipment that all proved to be unnecessary).  We got better, though, trip after trip.  The boys became road warriors (after Max stopped ralphing every time we went more than 45 miles, that is). Fast forward to last year. We packed a three month old Lizzie and the two boys into our newly christened mini-van. Oh, the room!  Oh, the DVD players!  It was the first time  Justin and I had ever worried about a road trip. We were officially outnumbered. Would mutiny occur? Nope. It was great. And here's why: we take travel packing seriously. As in: we make sure every kid has enough stuff to do to stay busy exactly 85-percent of the trip (and only 85-percent, because hey, they have to learn to appease themselves too, right?) Here's the breakdown of key items we keep handy: Books a plenty. Unless your kid gets carsick reading-- okay, even if your kid gets carsick reading-- have them pick a few books for the road.  Also, audio books are a huge must. We take enough for double the amount of time we're in the car, just in case one of the books doesn't pass muster.  With a portable CD player, or with cars that come with earphones, you have the option of listening to the books with your child, or if they aren't appropriate for younger ears (or you just want to rock out with your feet on the dash), your child can get lost in a story without having to read/vomit.    Small toys. My boys love little tech deck skateboards and lego packs-- but beware, these things are easily dropped and fall into the "mama, can you reach back and get that..." category.  I love the little Playmobile magnetic travel sets, and sticker books for the toddler crowd are always a hit. Just be prepared to have stickers cover the inside of said toddler's window. Crayons/dry erase marker boards.  We bring our schooling dry erase boards and markers along, in case Max gets an urge "to do homework" (he's still at that age), and also to just draw, erase, and draw some more.  With Lizzie suddenly having a huge interest in coloring, I'll start packing our Stockmar crayons too. These all natural beeswax crayons are great, well, just because they are great, but also because if they happen to wind up in her mouth and no one in the backseat happens to notify me for a few minutes, they are also safe.  I like the block variety for little hands.   DVDs.  This one is a bit tricky in our house.  While our fancy schmancy mini-van did come with two drop down DVD players, I really, really don't like the idea of an 18-hour screen fest.  That being said, um, we do have two DVD players, and there is nothing-- I mean nothing-- that will keep wee ones quieter and more content than being glued to the ol' tele. And so, we compromise.  I bring a slug of their favorite movies and save them for when it is too dark to read or draw, or when they are just plain losing the plot.  I also netflix some fun stuff that I know they would never watch unless they are, well, hog-tied and strapped down.  Last year, they plowed through the entire first season of the Brady Bunch. And loved it. With golden oldies like Gilligan's Island, the Andy Griffith Show, and musicals like The Sound of Music to pick from, there are plenty of options that make me feel a little better about what they are watching (as in no Diego or Star Wars cartoons blasting from the back. Pretty please). Snacks.  Oh, I cannot stress enough the importance of the all-accessible snack bag. We load up so that no one starts bonking from starvation. I'll admit, we don't neccessairly do "keep the car tidy" snacks (i.e. crackers galore) but we do vacuum up the majority of the mess between the going there and coming home trips.  We also keep a small cooler with juice, milk, water and lunch fixin's (like turkey and cheese and fruit) so that on the off chance we're in a groove, we can eat and keep driving, and if not, we can eat at a rest stop and save both money and our stomachs from fast food gut rot. Good old-fashioned car game fun.  We actually still love, despite all the technology we have available, to play the games Justin and I played as kids-- the I Spy, the license plate game,  the name-something-you-see-that-starts-with-this-letter game, or be as silent as a statue (which unfortunately never lasts very long for more than three seconds). Unless your kid is doing this: We also play "make up a story," in which the person who is "it" gets to start a story about whatever they want, and then we all take turns adding to it until we get back to the person who started the story, and they get to put the ending on it.  Here's an online resource for these kinds of games and more ideas: www.minivanmom.com (seriously). And then, there's always talking.  Because that's what  family trip is all about, right? Seriously. Because they grow so fast. They go from this, to that, in like, under 10 seconds. A word to the wise: never, ever teach your children the song "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall."  Also, in our car, the kids get three free "are we there yet's"  and after that, we start docking that coveted DVD time. Amazing how fast those words disappear from their sweet little vocabularies. Adios folks-- as you read this, we are in the car, heading to Asheville, North Carolina. I'll post when I get there. From a grocery store. A very, very lovely grocery store.

Washington DC

When you homeschool, learning is all about living.  Lessons that happen in the form of daily adventures-- from grocery shopping (which can be an adventure, I swear) to road tripping-- bring learning into every day moments that encourage children to explore.  It opens up to a whole new way of defining education. For us, this philosophy plays out at its finest on family vacations. One of our children's favorite places to go-- Washington, D.C.-- is truly one giant classroom. While the city itself is on the pricey side, there are so many things to do for free that we keep getting drawn back. We road trip it Okay, okay, that is not our car. But I wish it was-- I mean, it runs on biodiesel AND has a bumper sticker to prove it.  Also, it is from our state. And we did see it on the way to Washington D.C.  So...almost. This is what our car actually looks like I swear Max is either watching The Brady Bunch Season 1 or some Charlie Brown does America DVD.  Anywaaaaaayyyyyy...When you get to Washington D.C., here's a list of "must do's" with age-appropriate notes if you choose to head to the nation's capital in the near future. 1) The monuments. Duh. Truly, though, these are all free and fantastic ways to jump start conversations about a wide-range of America's history. I'd recommend getting some biographies on the biggies-- we always read about Lincoln and Jefferson before we go. The books "Who was...(Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln)" are easy and informative for second-fifth graders. Be prepared, depending on your child's personality, however, for some tough questions. Noah, on our last trip to DC, sat in front of Lincoln's large stone feet. He wanted to know about the roots of slavery. He wanted to know what life for slaves was like and how humans could be so cruel. This is a good place to mention that the older your children are, the more the war memorials-- or Arlington Cemetery-- will likely affect them. Noah struggled through the WWII memorial last trip (he was nine). We opted to skip the Vietnam Memorial all together after the WWII tears and definitely have never done the Holocaust Museum. While I think it is important, as our children grow, to have them learn the damage war creates, I also think it is important to protect their innocence, their innate understanding of humanity's good. Okay, off the soapbox. 2. The zoo Because it's free. And it has a panda. And as far as urban zoo's go, it is a good place to wander. My children tend to be of the "it is horrible for wild animals to be caged" variety, but it does provide a great opportunity to see animals up close, and to tie in lessons of ecology and biology and, well, how horrible it is when animals lose their natural habitats. *I have no pictures of the zoo, because we didn't go last year, and the pictures from 2007 are all the way downstairs. And I'm typing from bed. Sorry to disappoint-- just close your eyes and envision a very fat and sleepy looking cheetah, and two boys growling at said cheetah in a much more true-to-the-wild manner. You've pretty much captured the moment. 3. Strolling through town Read the signs on the buildings. Notice the changes in each neighborhood (but not too scary of changes. Stick to the tourist friendly places, and if you don't know, ask). Soak in the air of academics and debate and design that exist in the city. There are stories to be told about the Cherry Blossom Trees, the personalities behind the many statues and monuments (okay, the red sunglasses were too good to miss in black and white), and of course, don't miss the protestors that are on the mall (although the first year we went, the only protesting being done had banners with the slogan "don't snip the tip." Hmmm. Try explaining an anti-circumcision rally to your boys). But I digress...If you don't live in the city (like us country bumpkins) walking around gives an eye-opening view of everything from art in public spaces to the epidemic of homelessness.  4. The National Geographic Museum Off the beaten path a bit, this small but oh-so-cool museum is free and always boasts a fantastic exhibit or two. Our kids still talk about the "awesomeness" of the poison dart frog. Me? Not so much. 5. The Mall/The National Museums The Mall itself is sort of like this gross dustbowl, but there is a carousal and it is the central spot in the web of cool museums, so you should plan to spend some time there. Starbucks for your children is optional, of course. The museums that line the mall are free (amazing!) but I would not recommend trying to cover more than two a day. The Natural History Museum really could be a day in and of itself, and the Air and Space Museum is a big hit with my boys. This list is more than enough to fill four days in DC. Other options include The Spy Musuem (costly, but great fun for kids ages 5-8) and Capitol Building/Library of Congress (better for older kids). We also have never called our Senators before, but next time we go, we will. Most have office hours that include a weekly reception for any constituents that happen to be in town. White House tours must have six people or more, and must be set up six months in advance. Tips: Pack lunches! The most expense part of DC is the food. If you have the opportunity to pack food to take, do so, or hop the Metro into Dupont Circle and ask around for a local grocer (Dupont also has a Farmers Market). Speaking of the Metro-- it is the cleanest public transportation system I've ever seen-- we truly get on after dinner and ride for a half-an-hour just for fun. Easy to navigate and not too busy (except for rush hour and anytime you are by the mall). Max actually wrote President Obama and said "I hope you get to ride the subway, because it is the most fun thing to do there. Trust me. I've ridden it." some more websites with ideas for DC:

 

http://www.travelforkids.com/Funtodo/Washington_DC/washingtondc.htm

http://www.bluesuitmom.com/travel/family/washingtondc.html

http://www.washingtondckids.com/

http://www.cnn.com/2007/TRAVEL/DESTINATIONS/04/17/washington.dc/index.html

http://www.whitehousekids.gov

 

 

guana island

When 34 degrees is feeling balmy and you pass people in the street wearing shorts with their parkas, it's really a sign that winter needs to end. Unfortunately in Northern Michigan, Mother Nature just laughs at us mortals. Ha! And then dumps 10 more inches of snow in our driveways and drops the temperature to 8 degrees below zero. Gotta love that Mother Nature. She's got a great sense of humor. I must spend November through May (it stays cold here a long time) pretending I live somewhere else. This year I'm pretending to take a vacation to somewhere warm and luxurious. Actually, that's the only way I pretend travel. I'm high-maintenance that way and demand the best when I'm not really going somewhere. One of my favorite sites to visit is Luxurylink.com. Luxury Link represents high-end properties around the world. Their auctions look like good deals, and if you're not sure, price them out on the resort's website. Today I'm lusting over Guana Island , a location that I would love to visit because of its intimate size and beautiful location, but also because "guana" is another word for "poop," and who doesn't want to stay on "Poop Island?" Check it out and let me know what you think. Or if you've already been there, give us the real scoop. -A