Practice, Dedication and a Really Good Stance

There's not that much difference between being a sports hero and a rock-and-roll superstar, really. We're finding that out in the Poconos.

The softball game? Softball takes practice, dedication, and a really good batting stance.

Just ask Julie.

Or Jane. Wow, those two have eerily similar batting stances.

Softball of course takes power, too. Provided by The Dowd.

And beauty. What's softball without beauty?

And coordination and grace. Unless you're barreling into a 10-year third baseman. Then it takes speed and blind ambition.
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Shuffleboard also requires practice, dedication and a good stance.

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It's really remarkable how many sports require just that.


Okay, some stances are better than others. Nice putt, Joe.

Talk about dedication, practice and a good stance.

Thwack!

What we discovered, though, is karaoke demands just those things as well. .

Dedication to the song and to the group.

Practice.

Okay, maybe we should have practiced.

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Nah, we don't need no stinkin' practice. We're sports heros and rock-and-roll superstars. We've got dedication, we've got beauty and power and coordination and grace . . .

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. . . and a really good stance.

poke a nose

Ahhhh, the Poconos.
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It's a beautiful little nook in the mountains, a great place for our family reunion. We're keeping very busy, there are hardly enough hours in between meals to get all of the activities checked off of our lists before the nightly showbiz extravaganza.

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There is lots to do around this joint. The kids spend extraordinary amounts of time in the pool, they would be satisfied to leave it at that. Every once in a while, we drag them for a hike, a meal, or an activity.

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As if the offerings inside the resort were not enough, there is plenty more to do just across the road at the Sports Area.
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We've made the rounds over there, testing our prowess at shuffleboard, bocce, miniature golf, archery, horseshoes, and a real nailbiter of a softball game.

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Look, that kid in the outfield is about to shake hands with the invisible man!

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We've checked the ubiquitous strawberry lemonatas off of our list;

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hiked around together in this green, green world;

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paid tribute to our gracious and proud hosts,

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and dressed up one night for a grumpy photo shoot.

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Here's the Corey version of trying to go somewhere

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At any given moment, we're each surrounded by at least a handful of gorgeous, laughing friends. It's strange and lonely to do anything solitary.
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On tomorrow's agenda, we've got paddleboats, waterfalls, tennis, and it's last call for skeet shooting (no thanks). Of course, we'll have to schedule enough time to overindulge in food, drink, and great company. And we'll wrap things up at karioke with Garyoke

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I like the poke a nose.

Kairos

Have you ever noticed how certain dates or certain weeks are weighted more heavily than others?

In my experience there will be four or five days of the year that it seems everything is going on at once. You now, that Friday night in May that you’ve been invited to two parties, plus your favorite band is in town, your kids’ school performance is that afternoon, and it’s also one of the few after work happy hours of the year?

Why is that?

It would be so much more convenient if everyone would just spread the fun out. Why don’t people confer with you first, you longingly wonder.

If you’re like me, you end up attempting to do three of the five activities -- typically way too much, and then wake up the next morning chastising yourself for not being more decisive. Two would have been pushing it, but you just don’t want to miss out on the fun.

I’ve noticed that this week is kind-of similar, but in a bit of a different way. This week is vacation week for what seems like everyone I know. It’s almost eerie. It seems that everyone I love has decided to go out of town at the same time. Why this week? And why didn’t I get the memo?

Okay, so I can’t go anywhere this week anyway, but it’s almost creepy to realize that no one is around. I’ve got friends and family spread far and wide, from the Poconos, to Catalina Island, to Hawaii, to Nashville, to Mammoth Lakes, and way beyond.

I think there should be some sort of name for this phenomena. A word to describe a timeframe that is overloaded, over ripe with possibilities, overflowing with opportunity.

Nexus? Critical juncture? Way-too-much-shit-going-on-at-once?

Got any?

Day One

You have got to love a vacation that starts like this:

. . . one that starts with a giant hug . . .

. . . and a nice huge dose . . .

. . . of Jacquie Love.

And once Westy was deemed a-ok by her long-lost Westy-friends . . .

. . . we all made it to the Poconos. Bill and I moved right into our Happy Hut of Love. Our nieces and nephew are our neighbors. They were unpacking because their mom told them to and they are obedient children. I told them they're on vacation and they do not have to obey anybody. Well, except Grammy.

We immediately hightailed it to the pool . . .

. . . and took over a whole corner.

Mistah seems to have taken up a new hobby. These are all our men. Aren't they studly?

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The kids spent all afternoon in the pool. . .

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. . . natch.

Jacquie gave us a tour of her fab room. No Happy Hut of Love for her family.

Mistah really really likes Jacquie's pornstar tub.

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Then it was time for dinner.

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We ordered steaks rare, and they arrived rare. Highlight.

Mom and Dad oversaw the proceedings with their usual aplomb and grace.

So did our waitstaff.

And then? The dancing began. This is the Poconos, afterall.

There may have been some drinking going on, too.

Most definitely.

Yes, things are starting out well for us here in the Poconos.

So far we're having a pretty good time.

Wholesome fun for everybody.

Day Two? Bring it on.

zero more days

And we're off!

Traveling can be a pain. Travelling with kids can be excruciating. But when we do travel, we ease the pain by flying Jet Blue whenever possible. Everything is easier with Spongebob in da house.

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The direct tv is pretty great for friends of all ages. Bill mostly watched ESPN (yawn) in between his nappy-poos. As for me, I vacillated between educational shows like "The Next Food Network Star" and "Flip That House".

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This one was for Beth:

But nothing could have prepared me for the thrill of stumbling upon one of my favorite classic films, one that never fails to draw me in and keep me riveted whenever the remote graces upon any of its historic scenes:

During commercials, you get to check in on the map to see if you're there yet.

I managed to stifle my disappointment when the party pooper pilot broke in just when 13 going on 30 was gettin' good to tell us that we were there.

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We had an easy, entertaining cab ride into Manhatten where we descended upon the lovely Mary Beth in her succintly perfect apartment to primp and prep for a night in the big city.

We were joined by the incomparable Mark Dowd, and off we went. It was a beautiful night for a stroll to Central Park, where we enjoyed the music of M. Ward, some night frisbee, and a feast for the ages:



followed by a big slumber party.

The next day, we all rode the rail to Connecticut, met up with my fabulous parents and the lovely Ellie and Bill. This first leg of our excellent adventure can be summed up with three little words:

Can

Non

Ball

congrats to the rookie of the year!

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Tomorrow, we Pocono.

weekend 3-way: don't be alarmed

It’s 10:13 pm, and I’m trying to force myself to go to bed. This goes against my very nature, against habits I have worked long and hard to establish, habits that agree with me. But tomorrow, I’m a–leavin’ on a jet plane at 8am, and need to make time to drag and prep the kids, gather food for the duration, drop off the dog, get to the airport, get through security, and drink 855 gallons of espresso if I’m going to have a chance at making it. So, it will be an early morning. I fret that I will oversleep and the whole house of cards will come tumbling down. I no longer trust my internal alarm clock.

With that in mind, this weekend’s 3-way asks: do you use an alarm clock?

Jacquie:

No. But I will set one tonight, and when it goes off in the morning I will undoubtedly be shocked into panic and start running straight for the hills. In my normal life, I wake up around 7:15, plenty of time to stretch and yawn before rousing the peeps to greet the day. I’ve been on vacation for the last two weeks though, and have enjoyed many late nights and have spent many mornings languishing in the luxury of my lovely bed. Some nights I hatch a plan to wake up early the next day for the gym, and on those nights I tend to suffer some anxiety during the night. I worry less about sleeping through work than I do about sleeping through a work out. I’ve been known to toss and turn from the time the newspaper hits the driveway until I finally throw in the towel and get my arse up. Other mornings I think that will be my fate, but then I accidentally lapse into that deep morning sleep that steals the hours right out from under your drool etched pillow. Heading east for the next week, my internal clock is going to be totally whacked out anyway, so I might as well stay up late tonight and hope to catch a few zzzzs on the plane. Either way, I’ll have my rally cap firmly planted by the time we arrive on the upper west side!! Off we go!

Ellie:

An alarm clock? What's an alarm clock? No, no I do not. I have to be at work at 11:30 and I can manage that just fine.

My internal alarm clock goes off around 8, but it's been closer to 7 on these beautiful bright summer mornings. It's a really good internal alarm clock: if I stay up late carrying on, it makes the proper adjustments.

Bill has a real-live alarm clock on his side of the bed for his recent months of 9-5, but when I have to get up early -- and, frankly, I can't quite remember the last time I did have to -- I set the cell phone. And I, too, have angst about it not going off.

Have a great trip, Jacquie. The Big Apple has no idea what it's in for. See you all tomorrow!

Beth:

Well that makes all three of us. I do not use an alarm clock, at least not regularly. I do believe the clock next to my bed has an alarm function, but I inherited the clock when I moved in with my husband, and have never had the need to use it so I'm not entirely sure.

I do set the alarm in instances such as Jacquie's, when early morning travel is involved and everyone is relying on me to get them up and at 'em and to the proper destination at the proper time. But I don't know if I ever actually end up hearing the alarm, as I'm usually waking up every 10 to 15 minutes an hour or two before the alarm is set to ding-a-ling; I typically give up on the extra half hour and jump in the shower before the bell.

I currently have a host of medical professionals waking my ass up all the night in here, so I'm actually becoming adept at falling back to sleep, repeatedly, after having complete conversations. I figure this is good training for what's ahead, for the day, approaching quickly, when I take my tiny but loud baby alarm clock home for the every-2-to-3-hour wake up call.