Matt has made all the arrangements and we are going on a cruise! I can't believe it! I never thought I was the kind of person who would be a 'cruiser' but now I welcome it. This trip was amazing! Maui was an amazing trip too but unfortunately because I can't carry anything Matt became the Sherpa for our family. On this cruise we got to unpack, sit back and relax. The heaviest thing Matt had to lift for most of the trip was a beer.
We left out of Miami which is an ENORMOUS port. Our ship was the Carnival Valor. We had two "fun" days at sea and stopped at the port of Belize City, Rhotan Island Honduras, Cozumel Mexico and Grand Caymans. Each stop had something completely wonderful about it. In the Caymans we took the girls to "hang with the manta rays" and in Cozumel they got to "swim with the dolphins." These are experiences they will never forget and we did it as a family. The other two ports we just did beach days. It was so nice to just go to these white sand beaches and play in the water and drink beers under the palapa.
Cruising is really a hobby verging on sport for some. There are websites devoted to cruising. Cruisers post by their profiles how many times they have been and all the ships they have been on. I have nothing to compare but I thought the ship was lovely. It was so clean and the staff was so helpful and kind. There was always something going on and there was a camp set up for the kids. We were really fortunate to be on the top floor of the ship that had staterooms. This was a huge plus!! We had a balcony and nice neighbors (all seasoned cruisers stay on the top deck!) It was tight quarters but tight in a fun way. The girls were fascinated by the bed that popped out of the ceiling. Additionally, our steward made a different animals out of towels everyday for the girls. At the end of the cruise you could purchase the book "How to make towel animals" at home if you wanted too. We passed.
The amount of food and the ability to get food any time day or night was absurd. There were probably 10 restaurants, 6 buffets, 5 short order windows. I put on 10 pounds during the trip. Basically a pound a day for 10 days of vacation. That is what makes it so attractive because the food in all included. It's the alcohol that gets you...............always does.
When we got into Miami on the return we stayed overnight at a hotel because we had a really early flight. To complete our trip we had dinner at the Hooter's in Miami. It was voted the #1 Hooters for 2007 and 2008. The award for for gross sales not cup size I found out. The amount of money those gals made in tips was probably astounding. It was the perfect end to a wonderful vacation where we spent our time laughing at ourselves and at others.
We returned to rainy, snowy Seattle tanned, rested and relaxed. It was an awesome vacation and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I am a cruiser now!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
On not 'beating' cancer
On not 'beating' cancer
by Brian Doyle, Guest opinion
Saturday January 17, 2009, 7:17 AM
Martial words reflect illusory mind-set against illness
Finally, this morning, enough -- I read one too many journalistic references to someone's "beating" cancer, as if cancer was an opponent to be defeated, an enemy to be conquered, a battle in which courage often wins the day.
It is a lie. Cancer is to be endured, that's all. The best you can hope for is to fend it off, like a savage dog, but cancer isn't defeated, it only retreats, is held at bay, retires, bides its time, changes form, regroups. It may well be that the boy who survives an early cancer lives a long and lovely life, without ever enduring that species of illness again, but the snarl of it never leaves his heart, and you'll never hear that boy say he defeated the dark force in his bones.
Use real words. Real words matter. False words are lies. Lies sooner or later are crimes against the body or the soul. I know men, women and children who have cancer, had cancer, died from cancer, lived after their cancer retreated, and not one of them ever used military or sporting metaphors that I remember.
All of them spoke of endurance, survival, the mad insistence of hope, the irrepressibility of grace, the love and affection and laughter and holy hands of their families and friends and churches and clans and tribes. All of them were utterly lacking in any sort of cockiness or arrogance; all of them developed a worn, ashen look born of pain and patience; and all of them spoke not of winning but of waiting.
A great and awful lesson is contained there, it seems to me, something that speaks powerfully of human character and possibility. For all that we speak, as a culture and a people, of victory and defeat, of good and evil, of hero and coward, none of it is quite true. The truth is that the greatest victory is to endure with grace and humor, to stay in the game, to achieve humility.
I know a young man with brain cancer. He's 16 years old. He isn't battling his cancer. He is enduring it with the most energy and creativity and patience he can muster. He says the first year he had cancer was awful because of the fear and vomiting and surgery and radiation and chemotherapy and utter exhaustion. But he says that first year was also wonderful because he learned to savor every moment of his days. He met amazing people he would never have met, and his family and friends rallied behind him with ferocious, relentless humor. He learned he was a deeper and stronger and more inventive and more patient soul than he had ever imagined.
He also learned about fear, he says, because he was terrified, and remains so, but he learned that he can sometimes channel his fear and turn it into the energy he needs to raise money for cancer research. Since being diagnosed with cancer, he has helped raise nearly $100,000, which is remarkable.
I met a tiny, frail nun once, in Australia, while walking along a harbor, and we got to talking. She said no one defeats cancer; cancer is a dance partner you don't want and don't like, but you have to dance, and either you die or the cancer fades back into the darkness at the other end of the ballroom. I never forgot what she said, and think she is right, and the words we use about cancers and wars matter more than we know.
Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them.
We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don't you think?
Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, and the author most recently of "Thirsty for the Joy: Australian & American Voices."
by Brian Doyle, Guest opinion
Saturday January 17, 2009, 7:17 AM
Martial words reflect illusory mind-set against illness
Finally, this morning, enough -- I read one too many journalistic references to someone's "beating" cancer, as if cancer was an opponent to be defeated, an enemy to be conquered, a battle in which courage often wins the day.
It is a lie. Cancer is to be endured, that's all. The best you can hope for is to fend it off, like a savage dog, but cancer isn't defeated, it only retreats, is held at bay, retires, bides its time, changes form, regroups. It may well be that the boy who survives an early cancer lives a long and lovely life, without ever enduring that species of illness again, but the snarl of it never leaves his heart, and you'll never hear that boy say he defeated the dark force in his bones.
Use real words. Real words matter. False words are lies. Lies sooner or later are crimes against the body or the soul. I know men, women and children who have cancer, had cancer, died from cancer, lived after their cancer retreated, and not one of them ever used military or sporting metaphors that I remember.
All of them spoke of endurance, survival, the mad insistence of hope, the irrepressibility of grace, the love and affection and laughter and holy hands of their families and friends and churches and clans and tribes. All of them were utterly lacking in any sort of cockiness or arrogance; all of them developed a worn, ashen look born of pain and patience; and all of them spoke not of winning but of waiting.
A great and awful lesson is contained there, it seems to me, something that speaks powerfully of human character and possibility. For all that we speak, as a culture and a people, of victory and defeat, of good and evil, of hero and coward, none of it is quite true. The truth is that the greatest victory is to endure with grace and humor, to stay in the game, to achieve humility.
I know a young man with brain cancer. He's 16 years old. He isn't battling his cancer. He is enduring it with the most energy and creativity and patience he can muster. He says the first year he had cancer was awful because of the fear and vomiting and surgery and radiation and chemotherapy and utter exhaustion. But he says that first year was also wonderful because he learned to savor every moment of his days. He met amazing people he would never have met, and his family and friends rallied behind him with ferocious, relentless humor. He learned he was a deeper and stronger and more inventive and more patient soul than he had ever imagined.
He also learned about fear, he says, because he was terrified, and remains so, but he learned that he can sometimes channel his fear and turn it into the energy he needs to raise money for cancer research. Since being diagnosed with cancer, he has helped raise nearly $100,000, which is remarkable.
I met a tiny, frail nun once, in Australia, while walking along a harbor, and we got to talking. She said no one defeats cancer; cancer is a dance partner you don't want and don't like, but you have to dance, and either you die or the cancer fades back into the darkness at the other end of the ballroom. I never forgot what she said, and think she is right, and the words we use about cancers and wars matter more than we know.
Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them.
We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don't you think?
Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, and the author most recently of "Thirsty for the Joy: Australian & American Voices."
Sunday, January 11, 2009
POKER TOURNAMENT CANCELLED
I am sad to report that due to unforseen circumstances the first Poker Tournament of 2009 has been cancelled/postponed. The Hostess (with the Mostess) has had a family emergency. Look forward to receiving a new notification when the storm has passed.
Wasn't the flyer the sassiest?? Please take the Saturday, January 17th off the calendar.
Wasn't the flyer the sassiest?? Please take the Saturday, January 17th off the calendar.
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