New Fashioned Christmas Vacation: Survival Tips for Traveling with Teens.

We just arrived home from our Grayson family Christmas. It was a fantastic time and I enjoyed every minute with my two boys and husband. Traveling with teens can be a challenge, so I’m going to share some insight from this 10 day trip with a 12 and 15 year old.

Survival tips for traveling with teens:

Avoid the iFight. It’s only natural as parents to find the urge to require your son or daughter to leave their iStuff (pods, pads and other devices) at home. Vacations are for ‘disconnecting’ right? Not in the mind of a 15 year old. Letting go can be stressful for an adult and even more so for a teen. Picking this battle is a lose/lose. It’s not worth it!

Phones don’t float. The cell phone is a teen appendage. Even without service, they will continue to have the device in their hand or on their person. Beware of swim trunks with pockets. It takes only a ten minute dip in the ocean to strip all of the knowledge from a ‘smart’ phone. Tried and true tricks of drying the phone out with a bag of rice, blow drying with cool air or leaving in the sun will not work. We learned the hard way. Check those shorts!!

Elect them Chief Information Officer. Teens love information. Involve them in the planning and give them the task. In fact, during our vacation we found the iStuff to came in handy - especially with a resourceful teen. Not only did the GPS save us a few times, but we were also able to discover some great places and find the best deals. Teens tend not to rebel when they are involved in the decisions. We gave the kids a challenge to find the deepest discounts and they could use the savings for spending money.

Enjoy them. Laugh often. Cherish this time. My boys have an amazing sense of humor. Your teens do as well. Our vacation was filled with laughter, inside jokes and poking fun at our selves. Before you know it, they will be off to college and on to begin their own lives.

Happy New Year and Travel Often!

Grayson 2011 Holiday Greeting

Twas the night before Easter

And Grandma proposed

A Christmas trip to the tropics

As we all froze

We dream like Clark Griswold of a brand new pool

But no Christmas bonus, for the day-dreamy fool

Labadie, Falmouth, Grand Cayman, Cozumel

We wonder if it will be Heaven or Hell

We’ll be on a deck chair on Christmas Day morn

Celebrating in paradise that our Savior was born

Family time, warm breezes and much Holiday Cheer

What a grand way to celebrate Christmas this year

Before we set sail on our 154,000 ton boat

Wanted to share a short Grayson note:

Owen in 10^th grade, no more kicking back

“Buck up” said Coach Ziggy and quit talkin’ smack

From basketball to baseball to Golf league just think

In two months, we won’t miss car-pool-post-practice stink

Almost 16, dreams big like Mazaradii, Ferrari

But all Dad could say was “Owen…I’m sorry.”

Eli the tween’er went to middle school

Gets ear infections from the Chippewa pool

Little League awarded him the ‘strongest arm champ’

And then spent a week at JDRF Needlepoint Camp

Enjoys Wyld Life with friends and signing in choir

Still sets the b-ball court on fire

Hotel Snob wished she had more time to write

But work and the boys leaves no time at night

Still trying so hard to learn how to cook

Year without kitchen fire thinks she’s now ‘off the hook’

Jon likes to write stuff and walk the dog

He’s waiting for Kristy to teach him to blog

Volunteer chauffer is nearing the end

Chaplain work & church his time to lend

Bosco Bear Pug is another year older

Willing to perch on any warm shoulder

Like most Pugs he’s not very smart

But he’ll weasel his way into anyone’s heart

End of summer is never a joy

So we found a way to hang with the boys

Thanks to frequent-flier miles we got ‘r done

Off to San Fran for some family fun

Fisherman’s wharf, Muir Beach, but no tan

Eli asked, “Mom, what’s that guy got in the back of his van?”

We love the questions of innocent boys

And fondly remember the house full of toys

But growing up is what they do

And we’re blessed to know their inner-Who

We teach them LOVE always conquers hate

And all great things are worth the wait

They (and we) know GOD lives in our heart

And that HE loves us and keeps us, so we’ll never part

To you we wish a happy blessing, and a Merry Christmas!

The Graysons (Jon, Kris, Owen & Eli)

City by the Bay...Part II

Now that we've experienced the laid back portion of our vacation, the boys were itching to get to the action. Action, to them, meant 'the city.' It was painful for them to drive up and down the grand hills of San Francisco, only to be told that we were going to stay in a quieter part of town the first two days. The hopes of mall shopping, street vendors and trinkets & trash quickly escaped them when we entered the freeway to suburbia.

So that warm, sunny morning we left Tiburon in search of a city cafe for a hearty breakfast. The friendly young lady on the GPS didn't quite understand the meaning of quaint little cafe. She immediately instructed that we exit the highway in search of a Denny's or International House of Pancakes. But rule #2 for Grayson family travel is NOT to dine at a chain restaurant. So GPS Jon decided to turn her off and use sheer instinct to guide us.

It turns out that GPS Jon had a knack for finding just the right direction toward food. It's a good thing too as the 15 and 12 year old tummies were not in a patient place. There it was...just a few miles off of the freeway, Mel's Diner. Not the original from the movie American Graffiti, but it was kitschy and touristy. It’s just what we needed.

Boys were intrigued with the large Happy Days booths with an authentic juke box, but not to the extent of spending 50 cents to hear 'some lame old song'. They did enjoy over stuffing their stomachs with four buttermilk pancakes, three glasses of chocolate milk, six sausage links, two pieces of French toast, one giant chocolate shake, two pounds of hash browns and a six egg ham and cheese omelet.

With full tummies, at least for an hour in Owen's case, we were off to explore the city. First stop...Hotel Monaco. A Kimpton property that promised the finest boutique hotel experience. As the name of my blog promises, Hotel Snob expected the best. But before we were able to find the venue, GPS Jon decided to give us the Dodge Avenger tour of the city. I'd hoped to surprise the boys with a limo city tour, but the budget didn't allow. So former chauffeur, aka Dad, felt that the Avenger adventure would be as exciting. That it was. At least for the first 20 minutes or so. We guided through the rough street of the mission district to see how most of the world lives, then a quick tour of the boarded up buildings that held side doors that claimed the best of adult entertainment.

By this time, I was ready for a quiet nap in a fluffy bed. Jon obliged and made his way toward Hotel Monaco. But seconds later, out of nowhere, Errrrrrrpppppp sounded a horn from a massive fire truck. "Ahhh, Dad. Do you see that?" said Owen in his typical calm voice. Jon quickly looked out of the right window and saw the truck heading right toward us. With perfect reaction, he jerked the wheel of the Dodge, stepped on the peddle and nearly ran into a taxi who in turn greeted us with the Big Bird. "We're here," said GPS Jon. We giggled loudly from the back seat. "Yes, Clarke Griswold. We're here," I laughed.

Like clockwork, the valet was there to swoop away the vehicle. One of the reasons I chose the hotel. Free parking. Not to mention the nightly wine tasting and location one block from Union Square shopping. I've been very impressed with Kimpton properties for business travel. So it was a natural choice. The hotels in the popular Fisherman's Wharf area were either sold out or too expensive.

Yet the ironic part of staying at the Kimpton for this retreat was that the service was far less extraordinary as I've experienced in the past. This time I wasn't greeted with the attentiveness that I typically require. I don't mean to sound like a snob, but I really deserved this vacation and the front desk clerk and the concierge was getting in my way of an exceptional experience. Unfortunately, it didn't get any better throughout our stay but this story is not about a hotel bashing experience so my Hotel Snob persona will wait for another day.

Today I am simply travel mom. You know the fun one that likes to do all of the kids stuff. Shopping, tourist traps, cool restaurants and of course professional baseball. And what better way to experience professional baseball than a Giants Game. I scored amazing seventh row seats right outside of the opponent’s bull pen. My boys we're in baseball heaven. Cheap for Stub Hub standards and trust me I've purchased enough to know better.

Although the two boys and I have a mission to see every MLB stadium in the country, Jon had his fill of little league and big league baseball for the season. He had little interest in attending the game. Especially since it was forty degrees and misty. A bit too cool for his liking. He was a trooper and determined that we would forgo the car ride to the stadium and fight the torn up busy streets of San Francisco.

What seemed an hour on the road yet only minutes I'm certain, we found the stadium but no parking lots. I was admittedly tired and grumpy by that time when we finally pulled into a shady little lot for only $15.00. Grumpier yet when I realized it was about 15 blocks from the field. Then when we finally got to the park Jon realized he left the glucose monitor in the car. Not a good thing to leave behind with a hungry type 1 diabetic in tow. So the boys and I carved our way into the long line to wait for the doors to open while Jon took the long walk back.

Giant’s stadium is all that it's cracked up to be. One of my favorite ball parks. The view of the bay, the adoring fans, the heckling of the opponents, the stench of fried food. It just couldn't get any better. Until the Hot Chocolate man came down the aisle. And the orange panda hat that the boys purchased for me. Heaven. True heaven.

Yet the walk back to the car was the boys’ favorite as it was dark and a bit creepy. Owen's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw a minivan on the side of the road selling what was sure to be Official Giants knock off attire. Owen, being the savvy young business man that he is asked the young salesman "how much?" as we passed by. He knew how the game was played as he scored a pair of Oakleys the summer prior from a man carrying garbage bag on Canal Street in NYC. "Fifteen dollar...your choice," the man exclaimed. Owen shook his head and walked straight on past. "Yo Dude. Just like da ones in the stadium....only cheap. Authentic too.". We quickly walked past the man to our vehicle. “Mom, can we go back?” asked Owen chomping at the bit for a bargain. “Not tonight, Babe,” I said.

Stayed tuned……more to come.

City by the Bay

It just wouldn’t be right for a blog named Hotel Snob not to take a few minutes out of chaos to write about our recent trip to San Francisco. Although I’ve been to the city a few times for business and at SFO on numerous occasions for a layover, I never had the pleasure to enjoy and get to know the city by the bay.

The trip was impromptu. With our tight budget in this ridiculous economy, taking a family vacation seemed out of the question in the summer of 2011. But after a brief airplane collision with another Delta vessel in Chicago on a business trip a few weeks prior, I was presented with a beautiful thing - A travel voucher good for a domestic flight. The email haunted me daily as I reviewed my Gmail in-box. “Go somewhere – go somewhere – you deserve a vacation,” it told me. After quickly realizing that I hadn’t taken more than 8 hours PTO all summer, I decided to ponder what a trip might look like. “I could take one boy. That wouldn’t cost too much,” I thought. Yet, when I presented the idea to Jon, he immediately demanded that entire family attend the last minute get away. So with the blessing of 85,000 Delta Skymiles and a free ticket, we decided the trip could be a reality.

Family vacations are a priority for us. It gives us forced time together. We escape the hectic world of teen and pre-teen sporting events; car-pool journeys and other pre-planned rituals that seem to distract us. Plus, Owen and Eli have inherited the travel bug and desire to see the world. Although their young minds would prefer to see every major league baseball field in American rather than the South of France, they enjoy experiencing new cultures and how the rest of the world lives.

The Village on the Bay

We arrived in San Francisco just before 10:00 am on Wednesday. It was a gorgeous warm day without a cloud in the sky. Very unusual we are told for this city. Although it cooled in the evening, we had beautiful sunny weather throughout the vacation. With GPS in hand and a full sized Dodge something or other, we were off to Tiburon, a small community on the Bay. Jon and Eli visited the beautiful city of Tiburon last summer while visiting his uncle E.C. He loved the quaint village, its shops and excellent restaurants. It was an ideal location for us to explore the north shore of the bay. Plus, there was an In N Out Burger. The one destination requested by Owen. He’s an easy kid to please. It was clear that wine country with two boys was out of the question. That brief dream fizzled as quickly as basket of fries from the burger shop.

Photos don’t do the Golden Gate Bridge justice. We admired the hundreds of tourists hiking, biking and taking snapshots as we crossed the grand structure. The boys had no interest in joining the crowds so we continued on our way to the land of redwoods, artists and wealthy residents.

Day two and headache was gone. Thank God! Jon was itching to explore so off we went.It was a short 20-minute car ride to Tiburon where we quickly checked into our hotel room at the Tiburon Lodge. (An executive suite. I sweet-talked my

way into an upgrade. I wouldn’t call it the Four Seasons, but the room was decent with a kitchen, living room and large flat screen TV.) The hotel pool was lovely and refreshing for the day to unwind. Unfortunately, the poolside marguerite had a wee bit too much tequila. It immediately gave me a nasty 18-hour migraine. It was my own fault and I was out cold the rest of the day. Luckily,the boys and Jon were exhausted from the flight so we all hit the sack at 5:00 pm.

Mountains and curves and rocks, Oh my…

It took two attempts to find Muir Beach. Numerous friends and the guidebook recommended the venue. This was the one destination on my list. The GPS didn’t quite navigate us to the correct place. We quickly found ourselves traveling upwards on winding roads with sharp turns through neighborhoods of expensive homes. Quickly, Jon realized the following:

1. We had no… juice. (Which is a problem when traveling with a Type 1 Diabetic)
2. We had no…Dramamine. (Which was essential as I’d already threatened to vomit twice.)
3. We had no…jokes. (Our jokester, Owen stopped making us laugh.)
4. We had no…patience. (Our driver was fed up with all of it.)

After a quick lunch, a trip to Safeway and some clear directions, we were back on the road to Muir Beach. This time I was mentally prepared to take on the scary journey. After white knuckling the back of the car’s head rest for what seemed an hour, a near miss by a garbage truck and a VW golf playing Nascar on the sharp mountain turns with no guard rail, we landed in one of the most glorious sites I’ve ever seen, the Muir Beach Overlook.

The view was spectacular. A woman who has been blessed to see much of America and several other countries, I thought it was one of the most breathtaking views I’d seen. It rivaled Jamaica, St Martin and even Hawaii. It was worth the near death experience and nausea. Owen looked at me and asked, “Mom, do you think we can liver here someday.” I knew then that it had touched the heart of a fifteen year old. It was all worth it.

Stay tuned for the next City by the Bay entry…

Beautiful Day

The band U2 made it famous. At least it seemed based on the thousands of 40 somethings surrounding TCF Stadium on the U of M campus yesterday evening prior to the concert. Jon and I loitered across the street as we could clearly hear the band and see them on the large screen without having to invest the $200 just to reminisce our young life together.

One thing you learn quickly as a student at the U of M is how to navigate the system and find the hidden treasures such as free parking and hidden restrooms. We giggled as we walked through the campus holding hands like we were 19 again. Watching the other Gen X’ers pay $20 for parking and standing in a line 100 deep just to use a port-a-potty made me feel that my student loans a 4 ¼ year degree at a Big 10 school worthwhile.

The juxtaposition of the old and new landscape on campus was far more interesting than watching a band of old men play the same tunes I jog to on my iPod. The streets I spent so much time on in my young life are now riddled with Starbucks and other chain restaurants. But the mall holding the most prestigious old lectures halls hadn’t changed a bit. We had to sit on one of the long granite benches and admire the architecture and thousands of minds that had been shaped in the stone hot rooms. I felt as small in the vast beauty of the surroundings as I had so many years ago.

Thanks to my husband’s internal weather radar, he advised we move along after a few songs. We arrived home prior to the storms that washed out the other middle aged fans fun. Although it was so much fun to have a rare two hours alone with my hubby, the real Beautiful Day was today.

Beauty is not definable. That’s why it’s so intriguing. My gut tells me that most people would think that beauty means being an attractive person or an image such as a stunning sunset over the ocean. But beauty is so much deeper than that. True beauty has no description. You just know it when you see it.

Today was a Beautiful Day. A sunny, pleasant day at the Slice of Shoreview. There was a cool breeze, blue skies and no rain. I took my youngest son Eli and his friend “DQ” for an afternoon of goofing around at the community festival playing carnival games, eating junk and hanging out with his friends. Although I’ve been coined ‘a cool mom’ by my boys, I attempted to give Eli a bit of freedom – trying not to lurk about. But I have to admit, I was only steps away most of the time attempting not to stalk my own child.

As much as I’ve tried to give Eli his space, my motherly intuition told me not to leave him today. It’s a tough time in our lives as he’ll be going to middle school in just a few short weeks. Three years after his diagnosis with Type 1 Diabetes, I know that its time to let go a little and give him some freedom to begin managing his disease on his own. But as a mother, it’s just so difficult. I still know the consequences of even a small mistake, but I also know that its time for me to grow up along side him. So for a few minutes, I contemplated leaving my young man at the festival with his cell phone and a few dollars. But, something in my heart said no! Don’t leave him. I’m not sure if it was God or Mother’s Intuition, but I stayed with him…at least in eye’s shot away.

Thanks to my intuition, it was a Beautiful Day. I thank the Lord that I was there when his blood glucose hit 25. The lowest it has ever been. The scariest it has ever been for me. After quick thinking, a lot of sugar and the calm voice of my husband on his cell phone, he is just fine.

My words to all of you today. Always, always, always follow your gut!!

So in the words of U2:

It’s a Beautiful Day.

Don’t let it slip away.

To write or not to write? That is the question.

Many of you have asked why I’m not blogging. I’m flattered that you enjoy my writing. It’s my true release. The characters and stories are still in my head screaming to be let out on paper. Some fiction and some real. I’ve dabbled a bit with editing my novel - even went as far as posting the first chapter to a forum of writers for a critique. That was a big step for me as I exposed my true passion to professionals.

The reviews were mostly positive. I was told by professional writers that I have raw talent and beautiful voice. Although my first time writer mistakes were revealed, most critics begged me not to give up. So I won’t. That said, my blog will have to take a nap for a few more weeks while i pull out the novel and continue the painful process of editing.

I have a few stories tucked away that I’ll pull out and post in the near future.
Thanks to all of you for your support.

Love,
Kris

What happened to A&W? An Easter question.

The windshield of the SUV fogged as Owen and I drove past the boarded A&W on Rice Street. It was cold and drizzly for a late April evening. We were on our way to watch Eli play a Little Baseball scrimmage. I wiped the windshield with the single Dollar Store glove that remained in the truck. The rest of the winter outerwear was already tucked into the front closet – not to be revealed until November.

“Owen, look! My A&W went out of business,” I whined.

“No mom, it’s always closed during the winter,” he corrected. It was a favorite summer spot for the boys to grab a quick cold root beer float after a game or long bike ride. One of the few drive-up restaurants left in the state.

Wiping a larger spot on the window to get a closer look, the small restaurant was clearly closed for good. The windows were boarded and a “For Lease” sign hung from the front door. My heart sank to think that another landmark from my childhood was about to bulldozed to make room for a shiny new CVS or Jimmy Johns. The landscape of north Rice Street had changed dramatically since I was a kid. And I hated it.

I have very few memories of childhood, yet walks up to the Marketplace with my best friend Kari are cemented in brain. We would scrounge up a few quarters out of my Dad’s top dresser drawer and skip to Dubers Department store to buy Willy Wonka candy. We were so young and life was so simple.

But the A&W had special meaning. It was the special Easter stop. The ritual was the same each year. Mom, Dad, sis Kath and I would attend Good Friday service at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church. The church was tucked just inside the heart of Roseville. Adjacent to central park. We grew up in the traditional Lutheran church. There weren’t many surprises. We sat is the same pew and sang from the same green hymnal week after week, year after year. Good Lutherans always sit in the back of the church. We were no exception.

Prince of Peace wasn’t the glamorous church in Roseville. It was modest and traditional, unlike the other large Lutheran churches that boasted the coveted production of the Passion Play and 5,000 seat sanctuary. As children of the church, we were expected to sit still, pay attention and sing loudly. There was little to entertain us as church is today. No live animals at Palm Sunday service, angels flying through the smoke-filled rafters and Jesus ascending into the sky as my children are accustomed to at church today. Church was simple. We were simple people.

Good Friday service included somber music and quiet prayer as we mourned the death of Jesus Christ our Savior. Tradition included silence as we exited the church and gathered our small family into the baby blue Malibu Classic. Out of respect to Jesus, we girls were strictly forbidden to speak in the car until we arrived home. For me, it wasn’t a problem being a quiet person by nature. Kathy, a bit rowdier by nature, attempted to get me to laugh out loud by making faces at me the entire journey. After a loud snort, my mom would give me ‘the look’ from the front seat. She couldn’t help but smile.

On Good Friday, we never went directly home after service. Dad made the traditional stop to the A&W on Rice Street. The empty gallon jug sat in the front seat between Mom and Dad. There was a 35 cent discount for refilling the root beer jug, so each year my Mom stored the empty vessel with the Easter decoration. Mom would quietly whisper to Dad as we approached Rice Street. “Don’t forget to stop at A&W. We have to make root beer floats while we color eggs.”

We sighed pulling into the oak tree lined street knowing that we only had a few more seconds of silence left to endure. The house smelled of vinegar and hardboiled eggs. My Mom cooked two dozen eggs earlier in the day to make sure that we would have plenty of left overs to make deviled eggs for Easter dinner and a week’s worth of egg salad for my Dad’s lunches.

The evening included the four of us dying eggs and sipping A&W Root beer floats out of tall gold glasses. We giggled wearing goofy bunny ears as we raced to make the most colorful and creative eggs. Kathy was the all time winner of “The Great Colberg Easter Egg Decorator.”

Owen laughed as I told him the story of my childhood as we passed the old restaurant. And I giggled last night as I watched my two sons color eggs with my Dad and Kathy, sipping root beer floats out of the same tall gold glasses. The A&W wasn’t out of a jug, but my Dad wore the Bunny ears and there were plenty of left over eggs for lunch. I hope that these great memories are as wonderful for my sons as they are for me.

See my facebook page for the photos.

Road Trip: Irish in the Windy City

We arrived downtown Chicago just in time for the St Patrick’s Day parade. It’s not an urban legend – they do color the river green. Owen and Jon decided to explore the city immediately while Eli and Hotel Snob decided to enjoy the Fairmont and its lovely view from our hotel room. After nearly eight hours trapped in the back of an SUV, I was ready for a fluffy bed and a comfy robe…compliments of the dreamy hotel.

Sighing deeply, I sucked in the warm air of a bathroom that included a deep soaking tub and separate shower. They beckoned me. “Soak, dear lady, soak!” screamed the bottle of bubble bath. We left our master bath stripped down to the studs for a quick remodeling job that has taken far longer than anticipated for a women who lives with three males. I entered the quiet sanctuary.

“Mom, look at the people out there with Green beads and hats. Let’s go. Let’s go,” squealed my little man. Good bye bubble bath. Hello windy city.

After spending far too much money on green garb, we spent the afternoon walking, shopping and laughing at the world around us. Pent-up stress washed away with the waves of the green river. For the afternoon, we were Irish.

Owen, my foodie, searched his ‘walking GPS app’ for the closest 5 star restaurant. Oddly enough, it was right in the lobby of our hotel. Fine dining is an imperative when traveling – even with the kids. And my kids have earned the right to eat well while on vacation as cooking is not one of my gifts. Part of the fun is watching the restaurant staff squirm as our quirky little family orders a sophisticated meal although we are clearly tourists – all dressed in Shamrock Chicago-wear. None-the-less we giggled our way through the Foie gras, Gnocchi with Parmesan foam and bacon infused ice cream with molten lava flourless chocolate cake. Not ten minutes after the enormous bill arrived Owen said, "Mom. I'm hungry."

It was a perfect day!

Road Trip - Day One

At 4:40 am, the dirty white SUV pulled out of the short cul-de-sac. I’d been out of bed for exactly 19 minutes. I’d gathered the belongs packed the evening prior and nudged the sleepy 11 and wide eyed 15 year old boys into the cool truck. My hubby entered the vehicle at exactly 18 minutes after the warning bell sounded from the annoying cell phone. His tardiness due to ensuring that everything, including the pug, was in order for our four day trip.

Spring break road trip. This is what the boys coined the 7 ½ hour car ride to Chicago. I dreaded the voyage for months. As a young girl, my parents ensured that I’d step foot in each of the continental 48 states. For weeks and sometimes months, my mom and dad would tuck me into the back of the Malibu Classic as we traveled the country stopping at every road trap possible to enhance the travel experience of a very young girl. The travel bug stuck with me, yet the distaste for spending more than a few hours in a vehicle at one time.

The mix of rain and snow fell on the truck as Jon pulled onto the freeway. The wind from the unexpected storm squealed through the windows as the SUV fled to from lane to lane. I had two choices: close my eyes and drift into a faint sleep or white knuckle my way through the storm. After a brief prayer for safety, I laid my tired head next to my warm young son and fell asleep. Jon and Owen, my two brave men, sat in the front braving their way to our destination.

I awoke about 3 hours later to see my fifteen year old son driving the roads of Wisconsin. “Oh dear Lord, not now.” I prayed. It was time for the white knuckles – yet the snow had subsided. Jon sat shotgun toying with the radio station. He had no concern of the young man’s driving skills. “What next?” I thought. On a well needed vacation, I decided to take a deep breath and pick up the People Magazine to immerse myself in the trouble of Charlie Sheen. At least he isn’t on an 8 hour road trip with a fifteen year old driver.

Jon decided it was time to take the wheel after the third toll road and suburban Illinois traffic heating up. Just in time for a quick bite to eat. The dreaded buffet…Hotel Snob’s nightmare. I was able to dissect that mass amount of canned food to find a few leafs of greenery. “On vacation…this if for the kids. Suck up the germ-a-phob for just awhile.” I thought.

Stay tuned for the green river adventure. Coming soon!!

il dolce far niente.

The sweetness of doing nothing. One of my favorite Italian sayings. A craft that Americans haven’t embraced. I’m no exception – with a life stuck in overdrive. Having the grand pleasure of spending time in Italy with my husband, we were able to experience a small taste of this lifestyle. Particularly as our bodies had not quite adjusted to the time change and Jon’s stomach didn’t appreciate the stores and restaurants being closed during the afternoon. Our convenience-ridden ‘have to have it right now’ lifestyle didn’t align well in Italy. Yet, it was a powerful awakening to the beautiful life of simplicity.

This weekend was brutally busy. It launched with a Friday evening pizza party followed by seven basketball games and little league baseball tryouts. All while my husband was on duty volunteering for the local basketball association. It was the typical mathematical exercise of determining precisely how to be in two places at once. Little did I know at the time that my years of College Algebra and an MBA would be put to use in everyday life. (Two Grayson vehicles leave the garage at the same time. One heads to the high school the other to the middle school….You get the drift.)

Sunday afternoon at 2:00 the madness was over just as the snow began to fall. It was clear that it would be a no plans afternoon. It took just minutes for the flurry to turn to a near white-out. The couch and the warm pug sat there calling me, “Sit down, relax and curl-up.” So I did.

Take time to celebrate the sweetness of doing nothing. Here are a few of my favorites:

1) Sitting in a hot car in the middle of July. Sucking in the steamy air. Who cares if people stare at you as if you’re nuts? Winter in Minnesota is far too long not to enjoy a good car sauna.

2) Waking up early to watch my children sleep. Although they are 15 and 11, they still sleep like infants. It’s more relaxing than Yoga and a perfect time to reflect on how very special they are.

3) Lounging on the couch with a big bag of popcorn and a Soprano’s Marathon. There is nothing more exciting for a writer than to escape into a world so unfamiliar. The stories develop like wildfire.

Remember. Live simply and enjoy the small things in life. In just a few years, my precious children will be adults. Someday I will look back on the madness with envy and wished I could have it for just one more day. I’m blessed with this time in life and savor every minute of it.

Hotel Smell in a Can

Have you ever wondered why hotels all smell alike? I’ve stayed in hundreds of hotel rooms for business throughout my career yet never really thought much about this. But this morning when I finally cracked open the black TravelPro carry-on from the trip to Phoenix this week, the smell exploded into my bedroom. It infiltrated the contents of the small case. My clothing, shoes and even the small make up case smelled of stale sterileness. Is there such a thing as "Hotel Smell in a Can"? I pondered this thought for a few minutes.

As I unpacked my belongings the scent reminded me of a time where business travel was a way of life. Being away from my family for days, sometimes weeks at a time. A time when my self-worth was based on the number of first class upgrades I’d received for the year and the “oh so close to Platinum Status” that allowed me to board the steel vessel before any of the other less experienced business travelers. A life that appeared glamorous and shiny from the outside. A life that I look back now on as empty and unfulfilling.

I have to admit that I still like the finer things in life. It’s a recognized character flaw. But what I’ve learned over the past two years is that it doesn’t matter whether you are in the Four Seasons in Maui or the Motel 6 in Detroit, the smell is the same. The sterile smell of loneliness.