The View From The Front Door

What more do I need? I've just been blown away by the wonderful views on this trip, the pretty water, low tides and good weather (**crosses fingers for rest of trip**).

I've been exactly what I said I'd be: laid back. This morning I went out alone for a little coffee from The Sanibel Bean, then I picked up the tab on some bait shrimp for my Dad as a little low key Father's Day present. We spent the day beaching it up, the afternoon on the lanai, a little time at the grocery and tonight I walked the dogs up and down the low tide. And honestly, that's about all I have to report.

Love it.

Just a Warning

Vacation is about to begin. Let's hope I don't cry too much over leaving Jack tomorrow, that we all make it in one piece and I maintain my new not uptight exterior. Oh, and that I remember to capture all of those funny moments, and faces and places with the lens of my camera.

I leave my favorite passages from Anne Morrow Lindbergh's "A Gift from the Sea", a book she wrote while living on the islands I'm visiting.

The Beach is not the place to work; to read, or write or think. I should have remembered that from other years. Too warm, too damp, too soft, for any real mental discipline or sharp flights of spirit. One never learns. Hopefully, one carries down the straw bag, lumpy with books, clean paper, long over-due unanswered letters, freshly sharpened pencils, lists, and good intentions. The books remain unread, the pencils break their points, and the pads rest smooth and unblemished as the cloudless sky. No reading, no writing, no thoughts even--at least not at first....

....The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach--waiting for a gift from the sea.

Question of the Day

Last year it was 3 days into a 7 day trip to Florida before Jon had a suitable pair of swimming trunks. Somebody forgot to pack the stack of his and when we returned home, there they sat on the couch, just as folded as ever.

The year before somebody forgot to pack my father's vitamins. My Dad takes about 10 various supplements per day since he doesn't take prescription heart medication. I believe we ended up spending about $75 at the local GNC Outlet in Fort Myers to get all of the vitamins we forgot.

Flashback to the first year in Sanibel and you'll see us at the Walmart in Fort Myers spending $300 on fishing equipment my Mother said she didn't think my Dad would need to pack. $300 on fishing equipment during a trip in which my Father bitched about $50 for a dinner bill.

Two years ago I didn't book our vacation until 3 weeks before we left. I picked a place that was $500 for the week and the website offered NO pictures of the room. However the lady assured me it was close to the water. Trust when I say close to the water really meant over the freaking river, through the damn woods and across a retaining wall next to the penetentiary.

What I'm saying is that despite my online appearance about lists and preparedness the simple truth is I'll be leaving my house on Friday on a wing and prayer and hopes that I've at least forgotten things that I can buy later.

All this week will be a flurry of activity.

Any of you who have met my father know that he is an extremely detail oriented person. You might call this problem OCD, we just smile and nod our heads and don't let him know he's afflicted. He will be dictating and making lists and generally making this trip almost miserable.

Any of you who know me very well at all know that I have a shitload of flip flops and this week will be an intense trial in self control. There are 9 vacation days and only so much room in the van. Not that any of those issues has ever stopped me in the past.

But in the end I hope it won't matter how much he micro managed, how many changes of shoes I bring or whatever stuff has been forgotten. In the end I'll be relaxing on the beach again.

I mean, maybe, if we're lucky and don't run out of gas money halfway through the trip.

If I don't return hope it's because I simply could not leave the beach and not that I'm in some small town in Georgia working off a $200 tank of gas.

Question of the Day: How much will gas have to cost before you reach your breaking point?

Question of the Day

Last year it was 3 days into a 7 day trip to Florida before Jon had a suitable pair of swimming trunks. Somebody forgot to pack the stack of his and when we returned home, there they sat on the couch, just as folded as ever.


The year before somebody forgot to pack my father's vitamins. My Dad takes about 10 various supplements per day since he doesn't take prescription heart medication. I believe we ended up spending about $75 at the local GNC Outlet in Fort Myers to get all of the vitamins we forgot.


Flashback to the first year in Sanibel and you'll see us at the Walmart in Fort Myers spending $300 on fishing equipment my Mother said she didn't think my Dad would need to pack. $300 on fishing equipment during a trip in which my Father bitched about $50 for a dinner bill.


Two years ago I didn't book our vacation until 3 weeks before we left. I picked a place that was $500 for the week and the website offered NO pictures of the room. However the lady assured me it was close to the water. Trust when I say close to the water really meant over the freaking river, through the damn woods and across a retaining wall next to the penetentiary.

What I'm saying is that despite my online appearance about lists and preparedness the simple truth is I'll be leaving my house on Friday on a wing and prayer and hopes that I've at least forgotten things that I can buy later.

All this week will be a flurry of activity.

Any of you who have met my father know that he is an extremely detail oriented person. You might call this problem OCD, we just smile and nod our heads and don't let him know he's afflicted. He will be dictating and making lists and generally making this trip almost miserable.

Any of you who know me very well at all know that I have a shitload of flip flops and this week will be an intense trial in self control. There are 9 vacation days and only so much room in the van. Not that any of those issues has ever stopped me in the past.

But in the end I hope it won't matter how much he micro managed, how many changes of shoes I bring or whatever stuff has been forgotten. In the end I'll be relaxing on the beach again.

I mean, maybe. If we're lucky and don't run out of gas money halfway through the trip.

If I don't return hope it's because I simply could not leave the beach and not that I'm in some small town in Georgia working off a $200 tank of gas.

Question of the Day: How much will gas have to cost before you reach your breaking point?

Sidetracked

I now interrupt this regular programming to bring you the following.

April's Vacation is in 10 FREAKING DAYS: A Soliloquy in Four Parts

To be, or not to be, that is the Question:

Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer

Oh who am I kidding? Apologies to Shakespeare. I can't write a soliloquy, no thank you to my 17 years of education.

17 years of school. Wow. Kind of frightening to see that written out.

Anyways.

So I have 10 days until vacation. I'm going to call this pre-vacation. Because my butt is doing nothing in the next 10 days that isn't vacation related. I'll have to visit a dozen stores, twice. Then at some point I'll have to do a bunch of laundry. Board the dog...

Okay, I totally stopped writing this after I said "board the dog" because OH CRAP, I had forgotten to call and sign Jack up for boarding. After an intense 5 minutes on hold they assured me he would have a spot for 10 days this month. I have to take him tomorrow to get his yearly shots.

And now I'm all weepy about leaving him for 10 days. This is ultimately the toughest part of leaving. While the girls are small enough to come with us, and the cats are responsible enough to stay home alone, Jack is neither. I hope his neurotic self will be okay without us. I'm always reminded of something I read about dogs once, if they can't be with the ones they love...they love the ones they're with. Hopefully that will hold true.

Okay, I'm composed now.

Really I should be happy. Last year Jack stayed the week with my Aunt and Uncle. While with them, their friend managed to latch her grubby paws into my dog. They "bonded" all week.
And the friend fed Jack PURINA BENEFUL. Because she didn't think my dog food was "good enough".

Umm. Okay.

Feeding one of my dogs Purina is the equivalent of a vegetarian's kid being given meat at daycare. Or Jon and Kate's 8 being fed something non-organic.

For a week after we got Jack back home he had rancid gas. And his coat stunk. And he was OILY. Like, that's weird.

All because some old lady thought her $8 bag of Beneful was better than my $28 bag of grain free, grass-fed, organic kibble.

At least the vet will feed my dog whatever I send with him. And they'll walk him. And love on him.

In fact. I'm feeling better already.

If he can't be with the one he loves, at least he's not eating beneful.

Now Introducing

Cotton Cuddlesworth IV

Inspired by the Travelocity Commercials we bought this gnome for an interesting vacation photo project.

Stay tuned, of course.

And no. I have no life. But my brother thinks I'm awesome. I'm definitely giving him the fun youth I didn't have. ;)

Victim of Mass Consumerism

I want Martha Stewart's hair.

I know it sounds insane. Martha Stewart? Right. I mean, when did she become my style icon? Up until this morning she wasn't. I could have cared less about her to be honest. And then a little thing I like to call "free magazine subscription" happened.

You see, a few weeks ago I signed up for a free subscription to "Hallmark Magazine". Not really thinking or caring too much about it. That's my thing, free subscriptions. If you look enough you find them by the dozens. I get Time, Better Homes and Gardens, Good Housekeeping, Redbook, Spin, Interview, Travel and Leisure....all free.

And I like it.

But until last month I didn't have a favorite. The logical choice used to be Time. I like politics. I like their format. It fit, you know?

But then Hallmark lured me in with their Key Lime Pie.

And this month with this pretty cover:



Then a wonderful little piece on must-reads for the beach. And they all SOUNDED WONDERFUL.



Then Hallmark caught my eye with this little shell inhanced page:



Which mentioned MY vacation spot, Sanibel Island. Any mag that mentions Sanibel automatically gets major points from me.



And by the back flap of the magazine I was admiring Martha Stewart's hair.



That's how I ended up coveting a Martha Stewart haircut.

I'm such a sucker for advertising and photoshop.

Business

So I'm sitting there eating my cereal this morning. Wherein "cereal" really means fritos and cheddar bacon dip, and I realize: my vacation is freakin' 15 DAYS AWAY.

Umm. Hello? When did this happen and who allowed it?

Am I allowed to gloat? Please say I am.

I apologize in advance. But seriously! In 15 days I'll be back on my little slice of heaven. I'll be shelling and beaching and it will be WONDERFUL.

So anyways. I feel the need to leave the following link here in case anyone who reads would be interested:

The Business of Being Born

This is that documentary that Ricki Lake helped do all about childbirth, midwivery, and homebirths.

As I get older I find myself becoming more and more in touch and in tune with that maternal instinct of mine. I begin to wonder how I'd like to create my family, the number of children and the manner in which they come to me. Adoption is still in the forefront of my ideal life, however I could see myself having a biological child in addition.

My mother has so many co workers whom are pregnant as we speak and our conversations sometimes are all about how those women are planning to birth. One in particular in interested in finding a midwife which sparked a whole conversation about hospital births. My Mom is adament in saying if she'd had another child after Jon she would have never, ever gotten another epidural.

After watching this documentary I think I definitely see where she is coming from. Too many women are coming home from hospitals with C-Sections. Then staph infections after that. When did we stop trusting our bodies to just do what they do?

So there is my spill. Watch it. It's fascinating. Cultivate your own opinions. I won't beat you up if they are different than mine.

What Would Jimmy Buffett Do?

Today Dad had a doctor's appointment. Not much new or unusual about that. But I must say, this office was the most beautifully decorated doctor's office...EVER. Which made for a more pleasing experience for me, the one waiting with the patient.

Jon could have cared less. Something about being 13 has morphed this kid into an iPod listening, texting food. Whatevs. I didn't want to talk to him anyway.




Speaking of this kid. I mean, teenager. He's totally been working on his Jimmy Buffett vibe in prep for our upcoming vacation. I'm totally jealous that he's 13 and working on his 4th beach trip, he's the kind of kid I hated in school. (Just kidding, I didn't hate y'all. I mean, not really. Well, just a little bit.)

Anyways. Here he is with the infamous "Florida Hat". The hat that was bought in Florida once and only makes an appearance once a year. Jon's claimed it this go 'round.



Ignore the fact that my foot is in this next picture. (Yes, I know, tiny toes. Flat footed. Stubby. I get it.) Look at those flip flops! Gorgeous.

Well, basic. But gorgeous nevertheless.

I'm breaking here for a moment to give a glowing review of "Havaianas". They are made in Brazil. I bought my first pair two years ago, and for a rubber flip flop they still look as new as the day I bought them. I hate when the cheapos from Target or Walmart rub all over my foot after a day of wear, or the pattern on the bottom wears off at all the pressure points. So I invest a little more. In Havaianas, Rainbows, Reefs, and Ocean Minded. AND IT'S WORTH EVERY PENNY. Even if my father just doesn't get it.

End of PSA.



Okay, where was I? Oh yeah. Pots de Creme. I made this yesterday. It was delicious. Pioneer Woman taught me how:


http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/page/2/

Love coffee, adore chocolate and aren't afraid of a little raw egg? This is the dessert for you.



My vacation is officially 20 days away. It blows my mind to even think about that number. I'm so ready to be on the road. I am a firm believer in the idea that getting there is half the fun. This year with gas what it is, getting there will be half the budget. But it will be amazing. I love rest areas and Pilot Stations and crappy coffee in paper cups at 3 am. Oh gosh. Am salivating at the thought.


But there are of course still things that need to be bought and taken care of. The van needs alignment, Jack needs his shots, we need a box of the crap to take put together and then there are beach chairs....


Last year I managed to come home from Seagrove with 4 shiny, beautiful beach chairs from Publix.

Fast foward to this year and you'll find me pilfering through the garage moaning, "where are my CHAIRS" like a crazy lady.

The chairs for the record are gone. Nobody will give me a straight answer about where they went. But I'm hoping they are in a better place now.

Amen.

In the meantime, I've now got to get more chairs. Until then we've taken turns claiming the lone leftover beach chair. Jon's got dibs currently.






The Florida Hat and a Beach Chair and I wonder why he asks me today to find him more tropical music for his iPod. "You know, songs about the beach and beer," he says.

Good Lord.

And amen.

From the Church of Buffett.

What Now, Baaaaaaab?

My father has somehow morphed into me in the past few weeks: an obsessive list maker and planner. No wonder people have spent so much time mad at me in the past, it's quite annoying.

Lately his schtick has been pushing me to "coupon more of that stuff we need for the trip". So I spent yesterday shopping for a few things we need. Mostly swimming trunks and shorts for Jon, and a dress for the wedding. But I did manage to make headway on my Dad's "list".

I won't deny. It feels kind of good to have things slowly accumulate, rather than be bought in a rush of hurry the night before we leave.

T-Minus 25 days, and counting.

On the Road Again, Like a Band of Gypsies...

In less than 30 days I will be on the road. Possibly somewhere in North or South Carolina at this point. That is my favorite part of taking a trip: being on the road. There is something to be said about traveling by car in this country. The silly things you find on the side of the roads, the somewhat frightening podunk kind of towns you run across as you fill up gas. And when traveling in the South, the varying degrees of accents you run across at each station.

I simply adore rolling into parking lots in the middle of the night, with the lights illuminating the view. How around 3 am you have to crank up the air conditioning to force yourself awake as you drink shitty cappucinos and prompt the rest of the car into one more rousing session of "sing it if you know it". Or that feeling of hitting the florida state line at 5 am, where the wind immediately shifts and everything begins to feel stickier.

This year the exact nature of the road trip is up in the air. I could not say for certainty that we will even be stopping to spend the night somewhere. However I have been promised a roll into Savannah. For that, I am at least grateful. This much I do know, at some ungodly hour on Friday the 13th (cue the scary music) my family will pile into my mother's new ride with 2 yapping dogs and 1 sleepy kid. We'll bid adeiu to the house. Water the plants one last time and Dad will begin the trip behind the wheel.

It will all seem very "Leave it to Beaver".

25 minutes down the road something calamity will occur. Like that one year the windows began leaking, it downpoured and by Lebanon Junction we were all soaked to the bone. This year I predict something will begin to beep in my mother's ultra sensitive van and we won't know how to make it stop.

Approximately 1 hour into the trip my Dad will begin to bob his head. Mom will ask him if he'd like her to take over now, and he'll agree. He'll say "just for a little while" and he will really mean, "at least until we hit the Florida state line".

At this point I'll assume position in the front seat with my mother as the boys and dogs doze in the backseat. During this time we will get lost, argue over directions, listen to way too much bad music and quiz each other on useless trivia we think of as we pass various cities.

If there is anything for Lucy and Ethel to get into, this is when it will happen.

And I can't wait.

But mostly I can't wait for a very laid back vacation. I've warned everyone I'm traveling with that all I want to do is lay on the beach and take tons of pictures all week. I don't need to run all over Timbuktu, I don't need to see everything in the world, I just need relaxation and a break.

I think I have a tendency to run on full throttle when on vacation. I guess it has to do with how alive I feel when doing something I love, like traveling. I always want to see, touch, feel and do as much as possible. And in the process I can lose focus of what a vacation is really about. It's the simple moments I always remember most, not the ones I freak out over and try to create.

Like the very first time I walked onto the beach with Jonathan. Or eating key lime pie last year with my toes in the sand which was so simple and unexpected. And the night I sat on a pier for four hours with a pigeon staring me down the entire time. The last one I bitched and complained about the entire time it was occuring and yet it has become one of my favorite travel memories. Because it was quirky and unusual.

Remind me to take more pleasure in quirky and unusual, okay?

So that's what I'm doing here, I'm vowing to myself that I will chill out and promise to not run on maximum pressure for 9 days. I'll just sit back and enjoy the ride. Even if Jon sticks his stinky feet in my face the entire time.

Happy

I spent much of my time this past Winter writing about how much I hate Winter. Or how unhappy I was. Or how much I couldn't stand another cold day.

I've come to realize that while I devoted much time to the bad side of things, I've yet to devote that much to the good stuff. The good stuff deserves its own post. There are many things to be happy about now that the weather is fantastic and my mood has lifted. Let me indulge.

I'm happy about stopping to smell the roses. Or flowers of any sort. Planting, and relishing in the feeling of renewal.

I'm happy about Orange Crush in glass bottles. All sticky and sweet and refreshing.

I'm happy about flip flops in fresh cut grass and pink toenails.

I'm happy about sunglasses and UV rays and chilling in the warm glow of a sunny day.

I'm happy about warm puppies.

But most of all, I'm happy about feeling so good.

And that pink toenails in squishy sand is just 7 weeks away.

Hard to be unhappy when faced with this prospect.

Caution: Girl Talk Ahead

It would seem I have two menstrual cycles, one which leaves me lying in the floor crying from the pain...oh dear God the pain and the other which leaves me relatively pain free but an otherwise blubbering, yet full of rage, emotional mess.

This week it's been the emotional mess I've been dealing with. I have, in the last three days, managed to cry over the following:

• Cole Slaw
• my Mother
• otherwise happy music on the radio
• Little People, Big World
• Dancing with the Stars
• "Dan in Real Life"

I'm rounding a corner and should be fine by the weekend. But geez...it's getting a little pathetic.

In other news, I figured my car lot weekends were over now.

Ha. Right. So my mother informs me last night that she needs me to follow her to the Honda dealership tomorrow because they are fixing a cylinder in her driver's side door and reprogramming the keyless entry. After that she needs me to follow her to garage where they will be replacing her brakes.

Happy joy down in my heart.

Other things I've been doing while suffering from blog block this week besides taking pictures:

• Buying milk from a local dairy
• Planting bulbs of gladiolus and raniculus. The latter of which I can't find a proper spelling nor picture of. But when I brough them home Jon looked at the package and said, "Raniculus? More like ridiculous!" Then he laughed like an old man and held his hand up for a high five.
• Catching up on all of the neighborhood gossip. Which, remember as we re-enter the warmer seasons, I live surrounded by housefuls of extremely religious people of several denominations. Including a pastor from a prominent Mt. Washington Church. The gossip never ends. (You know those kinds of church goers. Don't deny you don't. "I'm not into spreading rumors, so listen close the first time." Yeah.)
• Trying to find a suitable pet friendly hotel in Amelia Island, Florida. I've had loads of success with Savannah and have a list of about 12 different options. But Amelia is turning into a crapshoot. Unfortunately this is one area of this trip where I can't just go with the flow. As is the nature of traveling with pets I suppose. I'm currently considering St. Augustine or Daytona as a backup.
• Officially killed all of those seeds I planted. They sprouted. Things looked promising. And now they are dead. Moving onto Plan B on that one. Which would be buying the plants from a nursery or garden center. Oh well. Can't win them all.
• And finally I'm trying to talk myself into purchasing a Blackberry. So far, I've got myself pretty well talked into it. But does anyone have experience with them? The reviews have, for the most part, left me salivating. But I always enjoy hearing personal accounts.

Look at that! A real post. Aren't you all proud?

P.S. Any guesses on what Amalah is having for those who read her? I initially thought girl after comparing ultrasound pictures from a Google search, but I keep second guessing myself.

The Minivan

My mother doesn't understand young couples who get a positive pregnancy test and immediately run out to purchase a minivan. In regards to her children, as she puts it, "when they were little they'd fit in the back of anything."

And it's true. She was very anti-minivan as I was growing up.

And now, as she has me one foot out the door and Jon only a few years away from the same situation, she decided she needed a minivan. A minivan to travel in. To accomodate her grown children. Or her husband who prefers to sleep comfortably while she drives them to lakes or on longer trips.

And she needed an Odyssey. The van she had meticulously researched. My father had other ideas and it was somewhat fun to watch him try to talk her into other things. Best of all a Pontiac Solstice because, in his words, "all we need is room for you, me and Jill...who needs our children?"

He was joking, mostly, but we were appropriately offended anyway.

However, my Mom was deadset on an Odyssey. And the man who'd always wanted her to drive a van suddenly wanted something different. It was a standoff that lasted months.

Until recently. When Dad finally caved into what would have been a losing battle anyway. I drove them around car lots on Saturday with a specific plan in mind: Odyssey or bust.

And by late evening she had found her van. My father nearly had a coronary from sticker shock. But Mom stayed cool, talked him into it (or drug him into it kicking and screaming depending on who tells the story), finaggled interest rates and monthly payments and drove home that evening in her new minivan.

Dad finally got over the shock of the car loan and spent this morning marveling over the features in it. And Mom wants it on the road this next weekend.

I, on the other hand, am just enjoying having my car back to myself. I've appropriately trashed the backseat in celebration.

(Meet the Odyssey. White of all colors.)




(When I was his age my Mom wouldn't drive the cool minivan that all my friends could fit in. Lucky brat.)
(Should also be noted he spent all day planning on how to pack it for Florida.)
(Honestly, I like where his priorities are.)




(No words. Just look at how happy she is.)

Photo of the Day

I realized while sifting through old photos that while we were in Seagrove this past May, I did not once sit in the wet sand and let the waves crash over me. Now, I figure this is partly to blame for staying in North Florida in the middle of May. It had a tendency to be a bit chilly. But really, it's a pity that I didn't sit down next to Jon instead of stand back, snapping this picture.

I'll do better this year.

Although, now that he has a camera of his very own his obsession with photography is beginning to rival my own. So maybe, this year he'll just return the favor.

I should also mention another recent find....

Last year I made a photo book from Shutterfly of our trip. It was a free promotion that came with my camera. But I liked it so much I decided I should do one this year too. I never manage to scrapbook or save my photos for posterity in anyway, even though I go to the store and buy all of the supplies to do so.

So, this year I've been looking into the other photobook options. While I liked the one from Shutterfly it was very bright and ended up coming off a bit too sappy for my tastes. I found this site: Blurb

And immediately knew I'd found the one. I am in love with the simplicity of the books.

And I figure the sappy-ness of the last book I made lies in the quotes I chose. They were...oh there are no words. They were too much. Very unlike me. I don't know what I was thinking.

Which is why this year's book, I've decided, is going to feature quotes derived solely from "The National Lampoon" vacation films. Like these gems:

This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgery to remove our godamn smiles.

or

Clark Griswald: Roy; can I call you Roy? Have you even driven your whole family cross-country?
Roy Walley: Oh, hell yes. Once I drove all of them to Florida. The smell coming out of the back seat was terrible.
Clark Griswald: I know that smell, Roy; but what if you had driven all that way and Florida was closed?
Roy Walley: Closed? Uh, they don't close Florida.

or

Clark: We're from out of town.
Man Giving Directions: No shit.

I mean, honestly, I think it'll make a classy piece of family memorabilia.

Photo of the Day

fort myers 159
Originally uploaded by apsies

Last time we went to Sanibel, the island was plagued with something called "Red Tide", this kind of seaweed stuff that rolled up in a big bunch with the surf. Jon spent most of our time on that trip pulling the red tide out of the water and into a big pile on the beach.

It is now gone from the island, and while I won't miss it...Jon might.

Goin' to the Beach...Goin' to the Beach

I booked at Loggerhead Cay!!

*doing my happy dance*

Holy crap!! I'm going to the beach! For real. It's official.

Help! Please Give Me Feedback

It has come down to two choices for my vacation. Two very different choices. I need to pick one tonight or tomorrow and book it because things are filling up fast. But I'm at a loss with which one to pick. I need your help. If you read this I'd love to hear your opinion. My mom is asking her friends at work and hopefully one or some of you will give me enough feedback to assist in making a decision. I keep flipping back and forth between them honestly.

So without further ado:

Option #1

Loggerhead Cay

This option includes a pool, sweeping view from the 3rd floor, close proximity to the beach, more space and closer location to shopping. It is also the cheapest option and has 2 balconies, both with water views. There is also a view of the beach from the kitchen window.

Option #2
White Caps

This option has no pool, but sits 90 steps from the water and the cottage is on sand. It is also $143 more and requires a refundable $200 security deposit to book. The other option requires no security deposit.

Both have washers/dryers, 2 bathrooms, nice kitchens, internet access and will allow us to bring both small dogs.

And I have no clue on which one to pick.

Thoughts?

Disjointed

My parents are out right now having the Florida talk. The one where Dad, who has stayed appropriately out of the vacation discussion, finally gets to hear all of the options and give his input on where he'd like to go. So far all I've heard is he is insisting on stopping on the way down and the way back up.

I'm looking into Savannah for the first stop and Amelia Island for the 2nd stop. Well, not on the island, but close enough to drive into it and see the Atlantic Ocean. I'm really hoping to accomplish that on this trip. So keep your fingers crossed for me! haha

In other news I made my brother sick. He's miserable right now and blaming it all on me. Not in words though, his throat hurts too much to talk so he's writing evil messages to me on his DS. Such a sweet boy that one is.

Tonight the contestants of this next season of Dancing with the Stars will be revealed at the end of the show, Dance Wars. This brings me so much joy it's ridiculous. But I really love that stupid show.

And really that is about all I have to say on this very boring Monday. All I have to give is a very disjointed post with no segues whatsoever. At least tomorrow I might finally book a vacation and move onto fun things like shopping for it.

The Taylorsville-Savannah-Sanibel Express

Typically on a trip to Sanibel we take the Shepherdsville-Nashville-Chattanooga-Atlanta-Florida route to get to our destination. This is of course is the preferred route by the famous search engines like Mapquest, Yahoo, or Google.

This year I really want to try something different, even if we are going to the same place. I’ve spent the last few hours researching various routes and stopping points for the first day of the trip. So far the plan I’m liking the most involves driving 10 hours into Savannah, Georgia to stay the night there. Major points of interest include Eastern Kentucky; Knoxville, TN; Asheville, NC; Columbia, SC; and ends in Savannah.

I’m most excited at this prospect because it will allow me to see Asheville, NC which is a dream destination of mine, as well as drive the length of South Carolina. Those are two states I’ve never visited and I’ll at least get to say I’ve been in them before after this trip! I also think this way might be incredibly more scenic, given the driving through the mountains thing.

The second leg of getting there involves going through Candace’s grandparent’s “hood”; Jacksonville, Florida. Before that I’ve found a small town called Hero, FL that offers a 22 minute straight shot off of the interstate to Amelia Island, FL. This excursion would add an hour into our day but would allow for us to see and touch the real Atlantic Ocean (as opposed to the Gulf of Mexico). I’m not entirely sure this part will be feasible in terms of time yet, but I’d love to do it. I’m thinking if not on the way down, we could on the way home.

Once we get to the island I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to do there that I haven’t before. Some of these include:

*Taking a sunset or dolphin cruise.
*Actually purchase a fishing license for myself and throw in a line.
*Visit the Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum.
*Go to the beach on Captiva.
*Shell at Lighthouse Beach.
*Visit Blind Pass.
*Visit the Sanibel Marina.
*Take Dad fishing in the bay by the causeway.

I’ve still not booked the place we will be staying at but I’ll probably do this sometime around the first week of March. Once I make the final decision, which is proving to be way more involved and difficult than I once thought. It would seem when you make the decision to take 2 dogs instead of 1 the search grows infinitely more complex. And while some would say we should just leave them here and board them with Jack, it’s easier said than done once you look into their pitiful sad eyes. And besides, the $90 pet fee for the week is actually saving us money versus boarding costs.

My new front runner is a place called Signal Inn. It’s not got the views that some of the others have, but it’s smaller complex with only 18 units, all of which are built on stilts with parking underneath. It has an awesome pool, gazebo, raquetball court and despite the lack of view is actually a much closer walk to the beach on a quieter stretch than the other choices.

But remember with me, what I may be leaning towards today might be completely off the list tomorrow. The important thing I have to remember is that as long as the condo is updated, modern and gorgeous and the walk isn’t a mile to the beach it won’t matter because it’s sure to be amazing.

Now, excuse me while I go continue chanting this to myself over and over.