Have Rob and I been married too long? No, of course not. So what, then, does it mean when we woke up yesterday morning and said Oh it's our anniverary today. We should do something. It's not that either of us forgot this important day, we didn't. But after eight years it just isn't the same anymore. Sure we'll do something special for our ten year anniversary, but eight?
As it turned out, it was a really great evening. When Rob got home from work and said "Are you ready to go?" I assumed we would just grab a bite somewhere. We had Isabella with us, so it's not like we could go to a fancy restaurant or anything. Then he made sure we put sunscreen on. Okay, so maybe a picnic? It was a gorgeous day, sunny and really hot. Perfect for a picnic. But we drove right past our regular place. You may be wondering why I didn't ask Rob where we were going, but perhaps you don't know Rob. He loves tormenting me with mystery, giving very vague hints which are always misleading anyway. At first it worked; I was tormented. But after several years of this, I kind of gave up. I let him have his secret, and instead torment him with my seeming indifference. It's awesome.
Anyway, a few kilometres and several hints later (none of which I gave credence to) we parked downtown. I could hear loud music, so there was obviously some event going on. It made me wonder about my favourite summer event here, Taste of Edmonton. Had we missed it already? I voiced this thought, and saw a nearly concealed smirk on Rob's face.
Ah.
Taste of Edmonton is a brilliant idea. There's a large square in downtown Edmonton, and now it's completely filled with the booths of dozens of local restaurants. Each restaurant offers two selections, usually one main course and one dessert. So hundreds of people jam into the square, trying new foods and enjoying old favourites, listening to the current band, looking at the street vendors wares and perhaps having a caricature drawn.
So Rob and I stuffed ourselves with good food and enjoyed the sun. We tried to get Isabella to go wading in the fountain (don't worry, that's what it's there for) but either the cold water or the sheer overwhelming-ness of the situation did her in, and she refused to go anywhere near the water after the first step in. It was hilarious seeing her cling so tightly to Rob that he couldn't put her down in the water.
We also had an artist do a caricature of Isabella. He made her look about 40, but it's still pretty cute and a fun thing to have done (first time for me).
After a few hours we were very hot and tired. So on the way home we rented a movie and just relaxed. Isabella even went to bed early.
And to my honey bunches I'd like to say: thank you for coming up with such a fun evening for us! Happy anniversary darling, I love you!
Sunday, July 25
Sunday, July 18
Two Weeks in Pictures
Somehow, in the entire two weeks I was on vacation, I only took four pictures. Normally I'm on the lookout for any opportunity to take a picture of my little girl, while Rob hides the camera on me or glares and gets huffy at me if I aim it anywhere near him. This trip, however, Rob actually reminded me about the camera. He'd say "Do you want a picture of this Sarah?" or "Where's the camera? I want a picture of this." A complete role reversal.
Anyway, here are the pictures I took:
I think this one was taken somewhere in Arizona. But it could have been Utah. Or Nevada. They all look the same.
This is in front of The Venetian in Las Vegas. It's magnificent. Luxurious. Expensive. Still, I was almost tempted to spend the $200-ish it would take to stay one night in their cheapest room.
My little happy traveller. Sometimes she got annoyed with being strapped into her carseat for hours on end, but really, who wouldn't? Overall, she's great in the car. Give her some food and something interesting to look at/play with, and she's set.
Isabella modelling her new dress courtesy of Grandma Smith. Isn't she darling?
Anyway, here are the pictures I took:
I think this one was taken somewhere in Arizona. But it could have been Utah. Or Nevada. They all look the same.
This is in front of The Venetian in Las Vegas. It's magnificent. Luxurious. Expensive. Still, I was almost tempted to spend the $200-ish it would take to stay one night in their cheapest room.
My little happy traveller. Sometimes she got annoyed with being strapped into her carseat for hours on end, but really, who wouldn't? Overall, she's great in the car. Give her some food and something interesting to look at/play with, and she's set.
Isabella modelling her new dress courtesy of Grandma Smith. Isn't she darling?
Friday, July 16
The Vacation that Wasn't
Have you ever gone on a road trip with a toddler? I hadn't. Not until a few weeks ago. I thought I was prepared. I brought lots of books, snacks, toys. I brought a fan for white noise at night. I brought her favourite stuffed lion (that thing is a life saver!), her blanket, interesting grown-up toys that she normally is not allowed to play with and are therefore inherently fascinating. That should have been enough, right?
Well it was, to a point. While we were driving I sat in the backseat next to her, and we entertained each other for hours on end. She really is the cutest thing. We read books and made faces and sang songs and tickled each other. Every hour or two we pulled in at a rest stop so she could run around and enjoy some fresh air. It went well; she hardly ever cried, and we even had a lot of fun.
What part I hadn't expected to be difficult was staying in hotels at night. All three of us (and often four - Rob's sister Nicki stayed in our room with us when we were with his family) in one room. We obviously weren't going to leave Isabella in a hotel room by herself, so even though the room was dark and she was in her crib with her lion, she could still see us, hear us move around. Which meant that getting her to sleep was very difficult. By midnight she ended up in bed with us, either lying on top of us or horizontally across the bed so Rob and I ended up struggling to stay on the bed.
With all three of us suffering from lack of sleep, tempers were short. Vacations are supposed to be relaxing, but this was definitely not. Please don't misunderstand me, our vacation was awesome and we had a lot of fun, but in no way was it relaxing. Completely exhausting and a little stressful, but worth it. I got to meet a lot of Rob's family for the first time (and they're all very nice people), go horseback riding bareback, see The Lion King, show off Isabella (one of my favourite things to do, and she cooperates so well!), see my Grandma for the first time in ten years, along with my parents, and drive through some very pretty country.
Still, it's nice to be back home. Home, where Isabella has her own room (and therefore often sleeps through the night). "There's no place like home...there's no place like home..."
Well it was, to a point. While we were driving I sat in the backseat next to her, and we entertained each other for hours on end. She really is the cutest thing. We read books and made faces and sang songs and tickled each other. Every hour or two we pulled in at a rest stop so she could run around and enjoy some fresh air. It went well; she hardly ever cried, and we even had a lot of fun.
What part I hadn't expected to be difficult was staying in hotels at night. All three of us (and often four - Rob's sister Nicki stayed in our room with us when we were with his family) in one room. We obviously weren't going to leave Isabella in a hotel room by herself, so even though the room was dark and she was in her crib with her lion, she could still see us, hear us move around. Which meant that getting her to sleep was very difficult. By midnight she ended up in bed with us, either lying on top of us or horizontally across the bed so Rob and I ended up struggling to stay on the bed.
With all three of us suffering from lack of sleep, tempers were short. Vacations are supposed to be relaxing, but this was definitely not. Please don't misunderstand me, our vacation was awesome and we had a lot of fun, but in no way was it relaxing. Completely exhausting and a little stressful, but worth it. I got to meet a lot of Rob's family for the first time (and they're all very nice people), go horseback riding bareback, see The Lion King, show off Isabella (one of my favourite things to do, and she cooperates so well!), see my Grandma for the first time in ten years, along with my parents, and drive through some very pretty country.
Still, it's nice to be back home. Home, where Isabella has her own room (and therefore often sleeps through the night). "There's no place like home...there's no place like home..."
Thursday, July 15
Only in Vegas...
Hotels in Las Vegas can afford to charge very little. By very little, I mean half the price of the average hotel. This is because they know most people are going to give them major bucks downstairs in the casino.
About a week ago my little family was there, staying in the cheapest hotel we could find. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the price that was cheap. The room was okay, I guess, a little worn, quite a bit outdated, but clean at least (to the naked eye, anyway). Another little fact about Vegas: it's easy to find great deals on food, but only it you're willing to get up in the middle of the night to eat it. We were trying to save money, so we ate at the buffet of this unnamed cheap hotel. Bad idea. The food was awful. I thought that was the worst of it, but I was wrong.
In the middle of the night I woke up with my stomach in knots. By morning, I was so sick I couldn't stand up without the world going black and passing out. Even sitting up was exhausting. The only way I felt even marginally like a human being was by kneeling down with my forehead on the floor. Rob was a dear and took Isabella down to breakfast with him so I could shower and get packed up (we were moving to a different hotel). Needless to say, it took me a very long time to get ready.
The car ride to the next hotel was... unpleasant. I kept my head between my knees, but still my nausea continued to rise from the rocking motion of the car. It didn't help that Rob had no idea where he was going, so a trip that should have taken five minutes ended up being more than an hour. The roads were busy, so Rob had to concentrate on his driving and couldn't keep an eye out for the hotel. Eventually I decided to help him out, and raised my head. Another bad idea. Only in Vegas can someone vomit out a car window without even drawing a second glance from passersby.
It was horrible. Horribly embarrassing. I tried to stick my head as far out the window as I could, but still I got vomit all over the side of the car. Too much information? Try this: even though it had been about 19 hours since I ate, every food was still clearly identifiable in a puddle on the road.
(On a side note, I'm trying to understand why I chose this humiliating story to share. Most people like to keep their embarrassing moments to themselves, but instead I blab it where everyone and their dogs can read it. What's wrong with me? Where's my survival instinct?)
Luckily by the next day I was feeling well enough that I could attend The Lion King. I would have hated to miss that. It was so amazing! We all know the story and can sing along to the songs, but the costumes were incredible, and the dancers so lithe and animal-like. Definitely worth seeing, even if plays aren't your thing. Look at this and this.
The moral of the story is: don't eat at cheap buffets, but if you have to, do it someplace where no one will care when you lose it all in public.
About a week ago my little family was there, staying in the cheapest hotel we could find. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the price that was cheap. The room was okay, I guess, a little worn, quite a bit outdated, but clean at least (to the naked eye, anyway). Another little fact about Vegas: it's easy to find great deals on food, but only it you're willing to get up in the middle of the night to eat it. We were trying to save money, so we ate at the buffet of this unnamed cheap hotel. Bad idea. The food was awful. I thought that was the worst of it, but I was wrong.
In the middle of the night I woke up with my stomach in knots. By morning, I was so sick I couldn't stand up without the world going black and passing out. Even sitting up was exhausting. The only way I felt even marginally like a human being was by kneeling down with my forehead on the floor. Rob was a dear and took Isabella down to breakfast with him so I could shower and get packed up (we were moving to a different hotel). Needless to say, it took me a very long time to get ready.
The car ride to the next hotel was... unpleasant. I kept my head between my knees, but still my nausea continued to rise from the rocking motion of the car. It didn't help that Rob had no idea where he was going, so a trip that should have taken five minutes ended up being more than an hour. The roads were busy, so Rob had to concentrate on his driving and couldn't keep an eye out for the hotel. Eventually I decided to help him out, and raised my head. Another bad idea. Only in Vegas can someone vomit out a car window without even drawing a second glance from passersby.
It was horrible. Horribly embarrassing. I tried to stick my head as far out the window as I could, but still I got vomit all over the side of the car. Too much information? Try this: even though it had been about 19 hours since I ate, every food was still clearly identifiable in a puddle on the road.
(On a side note, I'm trying to understand why I chose this humiliating story to share. Most people like to keep their embarrassing moments to themselves, but instead I blab it where everyone and their dogs can read it. What's wrong with me? Where's my survival instinct?)
Luckily by the next day I was feeling well enough that I could attend The Lion King. I would have hated to miss that. It was so amazing! We all know the story and can sing along to the songs, but the costumes were incredible, and the dancers so lithe and animal-like. Definitely worth seeing, even if plays aren't your thing. Look at this and this.
The moral of the story is: don't eat at cheap buffets, but if you have to, do it someplace where no one will care when you lose it all in public.
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