weekend fun: oz

Wickedly awesome

What a wicked fun night last night. My lovely co-blogger, Jacquie, guest blogger Autumn, and I all took our girls to see Wicked as a birthday gift. Yep, all three have birthdays within 3 weeks of each other, and all have mothers awesome enough to accompany them to the theater.

What is a mother's job if not sacrifice, right?

Aww, wicked cute, right?

Well, then again, maybe just plain wicked.

Wickedly awesome black henna tat.

Smile, goils, we're going to go see Wicked!

Oh my, even the drinks are wicked!

Wicked awesome seats; both the young and old ladies have their very own row of three seats

Wickedly cute redeux

And just when you thought it couldn't get any wickedly cuter

Totally wicked great night!

Can't wait to find out what we'll go see next year...

Drawoh Snosnhoj

On Father's Day, Mistah and I tried to recite as many of our dads' lines as we could. And if you have a dad like mine -- or like Mistah's -- that's a lot of lines. From "Walk this way" (from Young Frankenstein) to "See you in the x.l.t. (as opposed to the a.m.) to "While you're up" (when you're not) to "Silent like the p in swimming" (sorry, Mom) to "How can it was?" (from the famous poem*).

*Wait, you know the famous poem, right?

What a funny bug a frog are

Him ain't got no legs much hardly

When him walk

Him jump

When him jump

Him sit down

How can it was?

Ain't it?

Pure brilliance.

Anyway, I had reason to think about my dad's lines a few months ago when we found ourselves in Ocean City Maryland, and were looking for an off-season ocean-side hotel room, and spotted a familiar sight, a familiar logo, a familiar name . . .

Drawoh Snosnhoj!  

That's right, the one and only.

It's an old, old American brand, but man, the hotel room was all 2012.

Here was the boardwalk:

And here was the beach:

And here was the surf:

And here was the sunset:

And here was the oceanfront room:

And here was the oceanfront room in the morning, with me still in bed:

Another of my Dad's lines: "Who would have thunk it?"

Drawoh Snosnjoh, or, as your non-backwards-spellers like to call it, Howard Johnsons, 2012-style.

Dad would have loved it.

verde

Last Thursday morning around 9, I was here:

Last Thursday night around 9, I was here:

Same day, same coast, and it could be the same scene, but the trees give it away.

I had a whirlwind weekend rendezvous with the glorious trees in Portland.  This is the first tree I developed a schoolgirl crush on, I took this photo just a few blocks from our hotel in one of the plentiful downtown parks that pepper the city.

That's a cute tree, so very tall and stately. It retained its charm for me even after I became  half blind with tree love for its myriad cousins in Washington Park.

These guys were less about statuesque and more about lush. Lush, lush, lusciously lush.

I was one with the green, right down to my soggy little so-cal toes in their silly sandals, which I quickly ensconced in newly purchased tights and Wellies.

Sure, I maintained a soft spot for my tall, dark and handsome big boys. 

So stately and studly and solitary

I loved how the light played on the singletons, tickling the flaura.

But my favorite were the spots where all that green filled up my senses, surrounding and slaying me.

And how freaking adorable is that path? Don't you just want to skip?

A meadow of wildflowers?! Don't you want to just frolic?

Come on.

Really?

Portland is my green boyfriend.

I was so smitten, so satiated.

Everywhere I looked, I was filled up with green.

Out the windows

Through the windows

In the windows

Everywhere.

My trip was so short, I hardly had time to explore a teeny tidbit of what Portland has got going on. As I flew home on Sunday, I looked out one more window

Oh, Portland.

Aurora

Ah, vacation. It's so nice to get out of town, to change my point of reference. To disengage from work, to unplug from everything except a quick email check once or twice a day. Somehow it's already my LAST night if vacation, though. I'm not exactly sure how that happened. I feel as though there is so much more to do, to see, to visit. We do have until tomorrow around 1 pm, but Lordy knows it will take me a good long portion of the morning locating and throwing all the dirty clothes into suitcases. I thought I'd feel a bit more desperate about leaving than I do though. You see, I'm visiting my home town, the one and only Aurora, NY, and it's too soon to leave, I'm slightly biased, but really this has to be one of the most amazing places to grow up. Ever. Lock your home? No. Lock you car? No. Let your kids run free, of course. Crime-wise it's decades behind, which is so liberating. Scenery-wise it's picture postcard perfect. It honestly looks fake sometimes. The lake, the stately old homes, the puffy white clouds, picturesque barns, trees and green rolling fields. Is my mom really selling her home here? Will we actually NOT be returning next summer? The house IS being sold, and plane tickets will NOT be bought, it's true. And that sucks, but for whatever reason, I'm okay with it. I'm okay with it not because I'm ready to let it go, but because I'm so confident that my departure tomorrow will not mean letting it go. I'll be back. Next summer? Probably not But be back I will. My father was born and died here, as did two of his brothers. I was born here, and although I don't plan to die here, I do plan to return. Plenty. My girl asked me this morning if I was really sad about leaving; she sure didn't want to leave, but when I told her I wasn't, and why, she agreed. She felt the same way. And yes, of course she'd be back too. So there you have it. We're leaving, but not for good. And if anything, Aurora will probably only be more beautiful when we return..... Sent from my iPhone

Montbleau

Oh Montbleau. How we love you.

And how we especially love you when you come to the Greater New London Metropolitan Area, and you entice our cousins to come to the Greater New London Metropolitan Area, too . . .

I never get to see my cousins. And look at all the cousins and first-cousins-once-removed I got to see!

Especially this little peanut, Lexie Belle . . .

. . . and her mom, my cousin Megan . . .

. . . and her sister Sophie-girl . . .

. . . and her uncle, my cousin Kevin . . .

. . . and her cousin Maya-beans.

. . . and her cousin Kevin-boy. Just look at this crew . . .

Just look at this feast . . .

Just look at this venue . . .

While our man Montbleau serenaded us . . .

. . . we got to dance . . .

. . . and witness that unique, precious, fantastic phenomenon that is cousin love.

And, well, we got to hang out with adorable munchkin-girls. Scroll fast:

Sigh. Love those adorable munchkin-girls.

Love that Esker Point Park.

Love the peeps.

And Love that Ryan Montbleau Band . . .

Really. It's a total Love-Fest.

No one stops smiling . . .

. . . no one stops dancing . . .

. . . and the band -- especially the guitarist -- is so super-friendly . . .

. . . that they even bring adorable munchkin-girls up on stage.

Oh Montbleau. How we love you.