Vacation Videos

Legoland Volvo Driving School:

He was very serious about his "class."

At Coronado Beach:

Did you notice the part where he lifted up his shirt? He didn't want it to get wet. Ha.

Down by the Sea

A trip to California would not be complete without dipping our toes in the surf. Sandy is especially enamored with Coronado beach and insisted that when we were ready to visit the shores, that would be the place to go. I casually mentioned once that we could watch the sunset over the ocean, and two nights in a row we did not go to the beach at sunset. On Sunday morning, Nicco insisted that we needed to stay at least until sunset to see the sun go down on the beach. Too bad his vote doesn't count. After a leisurely morning with the Burlem-Cheesmans, we packed up the car to finally go to the beach before hitting the highway.

We walked through the fancy-shmancy lobby of the world famous Hotel del Coronado on the way to the water. We passed a friend of Sandy's and she made the round of introductions. Nicco just held up his ID card. That way he didn't actually have to say anything, but he could still be polite and introduce himself in a manner of speaking. Or in a manner of not speaking in this case. When Nicco saw the hotel he said, "Castles are mostly in France, but I guess they are in California too." The Hotel is about as big as some of the castles we saw in the Loire Valley, and it was about as fancy too. Mark was slightly embarrassed that he neglected to change out of his comfies and crocs, but Patrice said that when you are a multi-millionaire (or pretending to be) you don't care about appearances. Or if you are me, you don't care what the regulars of "the Del" think of you, millionaire, pretending to be, or otherwise. I thought it was funny that the locals refer to the hotel as "the del." It isn't "the dell" as in the farmer in the dell. It is the "del," the spanish contraction for "of the," as in "the hotel of the crowned one." So calling it "the del" is translated as "the of the."

This is my new favorite picture:

I love us. I really love us windblown on the beach. We should be windblown on the beach more often.

The world famous Hotel del Coronado.

The beach. Aaaaahhhh....

Piles and piles of washed up shells. Nicco only spent a few minutes digging and sorting through the shells. It surprised me a little, but he was drawn to the water. That did not surprise me at all.

 I rolled up Nicco's pantlegs so he could wade along the shore. He pulled his britches up as high as he could in a futile effort to avoid getting wet. Foolishly, I did not dress Nicco in his swims to go to the beach.

I held my boy's hand and played in the waves with him. I only got wet up to my thighs. He was soaked from tip to toe and didn't even care. Even after he was soaked he asked me to roll up his pants. I told him it didn't matter any more, and he could just take his pants off and play in his underwear if he wanted to. He said no, that would be too disturbing. I'm not sure for whom, but I suppose he was right.

He was doing the potty dance in the waves and the bathrooms were a good ways away. I wasn't sure he would make it, but at that point, it didn't really matter if he went in the ocean. I'm sure he wouldn't have been the first. He played some more and then some more again before he could not hold his water any longer. It was just as well, because we needed to head out of town if we were going to get home at any sort of reasonable hour. I took him to the bathroom, we washed off our feet, and Nicco headed back to the sea. I told him we had to go to the car so we could get lunch before our long drive home. He stood defiantly about 20 feet away from me, looked me straight in they eye and said with conviction, "I'm going to the sea." And started walking back toward the waves. It kind of broke my heart. But, we managed to convince him that Frankie was missing him and needed her boy to get home soon. We promised to come back again. He said, "We are coming back here every four months."

We waved goodbye to the waves and hit the road. At the border patrol check point, the agent asked Patrice if there was someone in the back seat. He rolled down the window and Nicco flashed his ID card at the agent. I snort laughed.

It was a really nice weekend away, and we will probably do it again soon. Maybe even in four months.

Surf Twig

Our friend Mark is a Fed-Ex driver by trade, but an artist at heart. We had a friend in Denver who was a wine distributor/consultant for restaurants and other liquor serving and selling establishments. He once said something along the lines of "Wine is what I do for a living, but I'm an artist by trade." In this context, I thought a dictionary might be useful. I digress. Mark's artistic leanings have taken a variety of forms over the years, including photography and carving. The last several years he's been transforming his hobby into a little business.

He makes mini-surfboards, called Twigboards. He has expanded to build snow twigs too, and I think soon he will branch out into skate twigs. He has his own personal creative line, and he does custom designs and logos. (Shameless plug...check him out at http://www.twigboard.com/)

He took us on a tour of his workshop:

He even let Nicco make his own sticker:

The daddy helped get some of the air bubbles out.

Nicco was very interested in the process and happy to have another souvenir to bring back from California.

Legoland

We were all very excited to have a fun adventure in the Land o' Legos. Before we even got to the gate we saw some Lego people who were just as excited as we were!

Come on! Let's go!

The obligatory photo outside the gates to the park. There were official Legoland photographers stationed at the entrance to take a picture just like this one, only it cost $10.

Inside the park, Nicco pointed and gasped and oohed and ahhed at all the Lego creatures and structures. We had to stand in line for a while to get on the first ride, the Dinocoaster. Nicco seemed a little apprehensive at first as he watched the riders go by. "That looks freaky," he said. He got to sit in the front row with his daddy and he LOVED it! When we got off the ride, my boy hop-skip-ran down the path, pumped his little fists in the air, and exclaimed "That was AWESOME!" Totally worth the price of admission right there.

The next ride was an African safari. The cars only held two people, so I studied the map while my boys went on safari instead of riding by myself like about a million weird grown ups. See, I think it is double awesome for forty-somethings or fifty-somethings to entertain their inner child/kid-at-heart by romping and playing at Legoland. I also think that one of the Disney parks might be better suited to adults looking for some child-like fun. Legoland is really and truly intended for the 12 and under crowd and their accompanying kid-at-heart parental units. So I thought it was a little on the weird side when five Lego safari cars went by carrying single, adult passengers. But whatever.

Nicco was too excited over all the Lego critters to look at me for a picture. Whenever my boys passed near enough for me to see or hear them, I heard Patrice telling Nicco to look at Mama and I heard Nicco squealing in his high pitched voice (which was at least an octave higher than normal, due to the excitement)  gorillas! An Alligator! Giraffes!

The next ride was a harbor cruise through mini-land. We passed the Taj Mahal, the Eiffel Tower, and the Sydney Opera House:

A small (hee hee) preview for Mom and Dad, who will be visiting the REAL THING in just a couple weeks!



We also saw some good old American Lego-landmarks, including the Statue of Liberty and Mount Rushmore:

The guide told us how many Lego bricks were in each structure. Of course I can't remember the numbers, but it was some insane amount.

Nicco's favorite part of the cruise was the octopus band.

This ride was like the tilt-a-whirl, or maybe the spinning tea cups at Disneyland. Nicco got tossed side to side and back again, and loved it.

Lego camel made from some billions of legos.

Nicco and me on an airplane ride (me, not I, right? I'm referring to myself as an object, not the subject of the sentence, right? Or is this just wrong altogether because it is a sentence fragment?) This flight was tame compared to the roller coaster we went on just before. It had one super steep drop and I wondered if my boy would chicken out, but he rode like a champ. He did decline the ride that actually took you upside down. I could not convince him to go on that one with me. Darn.

We wandered through mini-land, which was pretty spectacular. I can't imagine the hours of planning and building that it must take to build each little city.

Vegas, baby!

Nicco was a little bored in mini-land until he got to the farm with all the buttons for making animal noises.

He raced his daddy over the bridge to Fun Town, where he got his driver's license. He's very proud of his license. He hasn't had an ID card in six years, and it's a good thing he has one now. Just ask him. He'll show you.

Mr. Serious.

After driving cars and reassuring his dad that it was only good for Lego cars and that he would not, in fact, be driving us home, he convinced the daddy to help him play a carnival game. Together they won a stuffed Patrick, and it only took 3 extra attempts!

A Lego Volvo. I don't know what the special relationship is between Lego and Volvo, but the driving course was named for Volvo and Volvo owners have VIP parking near the entrance to the park.

There was a splash pad and a bunch of other water features that would have been kind of awesome on a hot day, but not so much on a partly cloudy and semi-chilly day. Nicco had fun even though I didn't let him get very wet. I didn't have a change of clothes for him in the car and I didn't want to listen to complaints of being cold and wet on the way home.

The visit to Legoland was great. We got there as the gates were opening and in his excitement, Nicco ran right past the Big Store. We left just as the gates were closing and in his exhaustion, Nicco dragged himself past the Big Store. There was a nice crowd at the park, but it was not packed. It was alternatively warm and chilly, but we were never uncomfortably hot or cold. I thought it might have been nice to leave home on Thursday so we could be at the park on a week day instead of a weekend, but the crowds were minimal and somehow I don't think we could have said the same thing for the highway at 5:00 on a Friday evening. 

Good times. Nicco is planning to come back in four months.

Mark and Sandy's Neighborhood

Mark took us on a little walk around their neighborhood just after we arrived so we could stretch our legs and get a feel for the neighborhood. They have a pretty intimate group of friends in their corner of the world. Every month they do a "happy hour" at someone's house, taking turns hosting each month. Their neighbors across the street are quite some characters, apparently. They have this plaque mounted on the wall surrounding the house:

Ha ha!

I liked the tall, tall eucalyptus trees. Patrice just liked the fact that there was green vegetation all around.

Our short walk took us to the historic Spruce Street suspension bridge.

Nicco, being Nicco.

Nicco sat on the bridge's anchor and told us that the "lock" is so huge, he can even sit on it!

He expressed some nervousness and anxiety crossing the swaying bridge at first, but he had no such inhibitions when we crossed back on our way home.

Birds of Paradise. So pretty. 

Flowers blooming on the neighbor's balcony. With the wet and warm climate, everything grows here. Sandy wants to throw some seeds over the wall of their property to get some color in their landscape too.

We enjoyed the fire...what I learned from a weekend in California is that I really like to be warm. 70 degrees and under is uncomfortable, 55 degrees and under is intolerable! At the end of our Legoland day, we lit the fireplace and snuggled up on the sofa under a big, fluffy quilt. Man, my blood has thinned after 3 years in Arizona!

Nicco also made friends with the resident fuzzy buddy. 

On the Road

With the long weekend for my small boy and my big boy being due for a break, we decided to take a road trip. We made our plans and packed our bags and Frankie let us know how she felt about us getting ready to leave her behind:

I think she wanted to come along.

We have friends who have recently remodeled a house in California, not far from Legoland. We decided to invite ourselves to check out their new digs and give the kid a small adventure at the same time.

It's a long drive to San Diego, especially if you go the speed limit. My husband has a bit of a lead foot, so he plugged in his radar detector and set his cruise control just 9 mph over the speed limit and a couple hours into the trip, the ominous red and blue flashing lights appeared in the rear view mirror in spite of the precautions. Grr, and grr.

The officer came to my window and after introducing himself, he announced that he would just be issuing Patrice a warning, not a ticket. He went on to say that the Chrysler 300 is notorious for going a little faster in reality than the speedometer shows and the bigger rims/tires Patrice put on the car exaggerate that effect. So while the speedometer read 84, he was actually going 89. The officer wrote the warning up for 78 mph, because 85 is "criminal speed." Patrice thanked him for the information and then came the kicker...the officer said he isn't out there to harass people, he just wants to keep people safe and prevent wrecks. He added, "I don't want anything to happen that would prevent you from voting in the upcoming election." Hee hee. I think the helpful info and lesser speed on the warning may have had something to do with the political statement on the rear window of Patrice's car:

So with that little delay over, we continued on the road. Nicco asked about a million times if we were almost there. I thought of my poor parents being subjected to the same questions from four kids, not just one. No wonder they came up with the genius plan to limit our questions to just 3 apiece. Finally Nicco "set a timer." He was playing with the ipad during the trip and he planted carrots in a garden in his Smurf Village that would take roughly the same amount of time to grow as it would take us to get to San Diego. Now instead of asking us how much longer, he gave us updates.

We passed some sand dunes where people were riding around in ATVs and dune buggies. Nicco said, "we have to try that." We also passed a canyon with the weirdest rock formations:

This isn't the best picture, but it looked like a playground where God dumped piles of boulders and glue. It made us wonder about the upheaval that took place once upon a time to create that particular landscape.

Finally, we rolled into San Diego. This picture doesn't quite capture the notorious carbon monoxide haze hanging over the city, but it sure is impressive, if that is the proper word.

We had to stop at a gas station just miles before reaching our destination and got our second California welcome:

Ouch!

Even with the haze and high gas prices, we were glad to be at the end of our road and for our adventures to begin!

Giddy Up

Our school district doesn't celebrate Presidents Day. We have more important people to honor than The Father of Our Country and The Great Emancipator. You know, people like Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. And John Wayne.

It's ten gallons instead of tricorners and top hats. It's git along little doggies instead of "Four score and seven years ago..." or genuflecting in the depth of winter, supplicating God above for the safety of the troops and success of the glorious revolution. It's rustlers and outlaws, boots and spurs, dust and mud, bulls and blood.
It's Rodeo Days, y'all!

I read and discussed a couple of stories with Nicco that I have about our two great American heroes so their leadership, dedication, fortitude, lives and sacred honor would not go forgotten in the Boudou household at least. I was planning to keep the boy home from school on Monday and look for some kind of museum or library activity or exhibit that celebrated Washington and Lincoln, but it's all about the rodeo here. Boo! Hiss! I'll save my statement of protest for another year when it might have a greater impact.

Yesterday was cowboy day, but my little vaquero refused to dress up. I even have a cowboy hat and a bandana and a big old belt buckle! The best I could do was for him to wear his Toy Story shirt with Woody on the front.

Even though the cowboy celebration usurped the patriotic holiday, Mrs. Cornwell did some pretty cute activities/crafts with her little buckaroos. They each had an assignment to come up with a cowboy name and a name for their horse. I found a cowboy name generator but I didn't like what it came up with for Nicco. Nicco "Bad Debt" Boudou? I don't think so. I suggested Nicco the Kid, Wild Boo, Three Fingered Nicco, but he didn't like any of those. "Those names don't even make any sense!"  he protested. He settled on Nicco "Bucking Bronco" Boudou. Because that makes sense. (?) His horse was called "Hopalong."

They ran stick pony races in P.E. and folded squares into triangles to make cowboy replicas of themselves.

 Apparently, a gol-durned horse thief swept through town and absconded with everyone's trusted mounts:

 The horse-thieves weren't the only outlaws in the bunch:

Since we are harboring a fugitive, we're gonna get outta Dodge for the weekend.
Happy trails!