Fino.

The other day, the lovely and rather blunt K brought it to my attention that I had promised vacation stories and failed to deliver. She is right, and for that, I am sorry. Here is one funny story from our Spain trip last October. 

We would go back to our hotel room at around 7:30 or 8:00 p.m. to wash some of the grime off our bodies and to rest up for what was sure to be a later night out. I'd don my red lips, specially purchased for our trip (you CAN'T go to Spain without your perfect red lipstick I had decided), fix my hair, affix the appropriate scarf to my ensemble and we'd be off in search of something to whet our whistles. We'd probably eat something too. We had become quite fond of stocking our fridge with a supply of ham, cheese, and a loaf of crusty bread for snacking purposes.

One night, we had returned from a day trip to Toledo and then hit a local tapas place for a late bite. Before returning to our hotel, we decided we wanted one more drink, a night cap, if you will. We'd been drinking beer at the cerveceria, naturally, so I thought a rioja (vino tinto, claro!) would be the perfect end to our evening. We wandered around, and finally settled on one particular bar. La Venencia.

I walked up to the bartender and said, "Dos vinos tinto, por favor." She looked me squarely in the face and said, "No. No vino tinto." I looked back at P.I.C. and he just shrugged. I attempted to use my not-good-enough Spanish to order white wine. Based on my brief survey of the bar, everyone had small glasses of white wine. She said to me, "NO. No vino." She then proceeded to tell me WHAT they served, but she spoke ridiculously fast. I shrugged my shoulders at her and she shrugged them back, clearly frustrated with my inability to communicate with her. I wasn't giving up so easily. No way. (It was at this moment that P.I.C. started to get frustrated with the whole situation, thinking that this woman was just refusing to serve us because we were Americans. I, however, was not so willing to give up, and fairly certain that it was just a language barrier, not a discrimination issue.) Finally, I just asked her, "Is it good?" She said, "Si," and then proceeded to say more words I could not understand. Finally, I determined she was asking me if I preferred dry or sweet. Whatever it was, I ordered it dry.

She served it up and wrote directly on the bar with chalk our total. P.I.C. and I picked up our small wine glasses and clinked them together. "Salud," we said to each other, an expression that was very common among our two weeks of sun and fun on the Iberian peninsula. She put a bowl of olives down in front of us (our free tapa). We took sips. My mouth puckered as it reacted to what was most certainly fire water. As I breathed out fumes that most certainly were flammable, I perused the action behind the bar. The bartender was filling those small wine glasses from a variety of bottles, each corked with a rubber stopper. Moonshine? IT HAD TO BE.

"P.I.C. OMG. I can't wait to tell everyone at home we drank SPANISH MOONSHINE. WOOOHOO!"

 It was something much, much stronger than wine. After two sips, I was brave enough to attempt another conversation with the bartender. I asked her what we were drinking (in Spanish, of course). She responded, "Fino." I said, again, bolder by the liquor and willing to make an ass of myself by speaking in Spanish to her, "It's stronger than wine, isn't it." She chuckled and responded, "Of course."

Feeling much less inept at my language abilities, P.I.C. and I stood at the bar and began to look around. The bar looked ancient. There was a thick coating of dust along all of the fixtures. No one seemed to mind. The air was lively with conversation and the smell of olives. We noticed the bartender washing off bottles as we continued to just stand and take in the scene. It appeared that the "fino" was kept in old wine bottles that they would wash out and reuse. Again, I made the determination that fino was some kind of Spanish moonshine.* I didn't hate it. But yes, it was "mas fuerte que vino."

After one glass, we paid our three euros and forty cents. We left our two small wine glasses on the bar, mine slightly smudged with my Spanish red lipstick, and meandered home, not quite in a straight line. One glass of the fino was enough to do us in.

*A tipsy google search once we returned to our hotel room taught us that fino was not moonshine as I had previously proclaimed. It is fortified wine, or a sherry. As our dear Spanish friend told us, "drink lots of it, you'll have a great hangover." We fortunately limited it to one glass. But I'd be willing to investigate a fino headache. I'm fun like that.

Oxford's rough weekend.

Sigh. So while P.I.C. and I were off sunning ourselves in the Virgin Islands, Oxford was at home. He's not much of a swimmer, and he absolutely HATES iguanas. He had to stay home, obviously.

When P.I.C. and I arrived home from the airport at midnight, Oxford seemed a bit off. At first, I thought he was just miffed at being alone, but then I realized he had a distinct odor...of poop. Further investigation led to the discovery that our little guy had not only pooed himself and gotten it stuck in his fur, it had really morphed into a bad situation. As in, I could see his little kitty business sans fur, bad situation.

To the ER vet we went, smelly cat in tow. (Seriously, what were we feeding him?) A shave of the butt, a dusting of Gold Bond, some pain meds, and antibiotics administered, and he was discharged. He has been steadily improving, is off the pain medication (thank goodness) and seems to be back to his usual lovable self. I'm so relieved.

I felt like a bad kitty mom, but during the follow up visit to our usual vet, he assured me that these things happened and that I could perhaps consider getting him sanitary trims. Sanitary trims = shaving of the butt hair. Really, it's like a cat Brazillian, which Oxford is sporting right now.

What can I say, he likes to live right on the edge.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, some photos from our most fabulous trip to St. Thomas.

Drinks out of monkeys? SIGN US UP.

A view of the Soggy Dollar Bar...we swam ashore...hence the name!

The view from our balcony. Not bad at all.

One of the cutie duck-like creatures that were on the beach. I named this one Frank.

Second floor on the end was the vacation home of the Awkward Family for the week. We were sad to say goodbye.

Anticipate this.

My friend told me once that the best part of vacation was planning it. The anticipation, the expectations, all of the new shopping...it was all leading up to something great. Whether it be an exotic two weeks away in Spain, or just a long weekend in New York, the anticipation was always fantastic.

Of course, there was no way that a vacation could actually live up to all of the hype, right? It wouldn't be perfect. The anticipation was nearly as good as it was going to get. Flights would be missed. Trains would be missed. There was NO WAY you could actually wear all of the new clothes you purchased.

My honeymoon? You know, that trip I took last month? Well, the anticipation didn't even come close to how wonderful of a trip it ended up being. I'm not saying it was perfect. I'm not saying that P.I.C. and I never once snapped at each other because MOTHEROFGODIAMSOTIREDANDHAVENTSLEPTINTWODAYS. Oh, and I must say...I think my backpacking days are over. My thirty-one year old back isn't having that anymore.

No. It wasn't a perfect two weeks. We missed lots of trains. They canceled a bus route on us. I didn't wear all of my pretty dresses. We both got violently ill (although that was fortunate to happen at different times.) However, we ate so much delicious bread. We drank gallons of rioja. We had cafes con leche every single morning. We sat and stood in cafes, taking in all of the Spanish culture. I rode a camel on my birthday. We drank fino. We slept in almost every day. We drank ourselves asleep on airplanes. We took over a thousand photographs. We saw priceless art and ancient cathedrals.

We honeymooned the SHIT out of our two weeks in Spain. And ya know what? The anticipation didn't even come close. (Even if I didn't get to wear my new pretty pink dress.)

I'm back!

Hi friends. Well, I have returned from two weeks and a day in lovely Spain. Here are some highlights of my life:

1. The friends who watched Oxford nicknamed him "Snowpants." They loved him. It was good to see he was so well taken care of, despite the odd new name.

2. Camp Nou is incredible. My husband is a HUGE football (aka soccer) fan. His team is Liverpool. But no one can argue that Barcelona is one of the most dynamic, incredible teams in existence right now. Watching them in a packed stadium (that seats one hundred twenty thousand people, by the way) was an experience that we will never forget.

3. My jerky coworkers? Still jerks. Yes, not even one full day back and I had steam coming from my ears.

4. I miss siestas. I miss drinking beer mid-day. I miss buying a bottle of wine every day for five euros and enjoying it so much. I miss fresh jamon. I miss patatas bravas. I just miss Spain.

5. I have stories to tell. But mainly, I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Stay tuned for the story in which P.I.C. and I got duped into drinking fino, the story in which we both got violently ill and had to make a trip to the pharmacist, the story in which I fell onto an old man and spilled water on P.I.C. at the EXACT SAME MOMENT...and many more.

I miss Spain, but truly, there is nothing like your own bed.

The hike.

When P.I.C. and I began narrowing down our cities to where we would travel in Panama, one we wanted to hit for sure was Boquete. Meaning "hole," Boquete is a beautiful town in the highlands of Panama, surrounded by lush, tropical mountains and flanked on one side by Volcán Barú, the only volcano in Panama. Additionally, Volcán Barú's summit is the highest in Panama, towering over the other mountains at 3,474 meters (or 11,398 feet for you non-metric users).

We knew Boquete would be an excellent destination because coffee is a huge industry. We love our coffee. We also wanted to do something rather daring and adventuresome. Maybe white-water rafting or a zip-line tour. One day, during the course of my research, I discovered that we could hire a guide to take us to the top of the volcano. Given that the hike was somewhat strenuous (13.5 kilometers up and then 13.5 kilometers back down), many recommended to break the trip up into two days and camp at the top. Talk about an adventure, right? I found one company that not only would provide a guide, but also would provide camping equipment for this adventure, Explora Ya. Perfect. We would hike starting early morning, camp near the top, and then we would climb to the summit before sunrise to watch the sun come up over the mountains. If we were truly lucky and there was a clear moment in the morning, we would be able to see both the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, allegedly the only place you can stand in the world and see two major bodies of water.

As an aside, I feel it prudent for me to note at this time that P.I.C. and I are not campers. While I have camped in the past, it had been years since I attempted to stake a tent into the ground. P.I.C. had never camped in his entire life. Additionally, while we walk a great deal in the city, we don't hike. Face it, Chicago is flat, and any hiking opportunities in the region do not boast terrain full of mountains, or even large hills. Not that we ever really hiked in any state parks or anything either. While this information was common knowledge to the both of us, we shrugged it off. We were going to be HIKERS. And we were going to CAMP. ADVENTURE, COMMENCE!

We meticulously purchased hiking gear (shoes, pants, rain jackets and the like) and planned accordingly for the hike. We packed warm gear, not a problem since we were coming from Chicago in December. We brought hike-worthy snacks. We bought our four liters of water the day before. We were ready. We had our backpacks all set. No worries!

We got to Boquete, checked into our hostel and later that evening received a visit from one of the guides at Explora Ya. He wanted to check in to make sure we were set. He advised us to bring our big backpacks since we would be carrying our own sleeping bags, mats, tent and food. We both have the big backpacks, mostly because they make traveling from place to place a bit easier. We both used them in Europe. Never, however, had we used these bags for actual camping. He also gave us the once over and declared us in good enough shape to go on the hike. (That bit made us both laugh.) Still, I was not feeling anxious. Hiking equals WALKING, right? Come on now. I walk all the time. Bring it on, volcano!

Sadly, our night of sleep was disturbed by some serious rooster crowage. I thought they only crowed at sunrise? No. Apparently 3:30 is good enough to break out the cock-a-doodle-doos. We didn't sleep well. The alarm went off too early. No matter, we were packed and ready. We went over to the Explora Ya office and loaded up our packs with the food, our sleeping bags (oh, THAT is what that little compartment is for!), the sleeping mats and the tent. They were somewhat heavy, but we could handle it. No problem.

The guide drove us to the highest point at the base of the volcano, a mere two to three minute walk up to the ranger station. We strapped our packs on and were off. Five minutes later, we arrived at the ranger station. I felt as though my chest would explode. Oh. Altitude. Duh. I forgot about that. We were started at over 1,000 meters above sea level. That is a big different than trekking around flat Chicago sidewalks, I suppose. My heart was beating in my throat and I could not believe how difficult it was for me to catch my breath. For the first time (and not the last that day), I thought, "I cannot do this." The signatures were made in the ranger station and I ignored those feelings of defeat. I pushed on. We began to hike.

The scenery was breath-taking. While my photos do look lovely, the actual panoramic while you are there, gasping for air, climbing higher and higher is enough to take away what little breath you have remaining in your body. Spectacular, truly. We would hike for a bit, then rest, occasionally taking off our heavy packs to let our shoulders rest. Our guide, Rafael, was incredibly knowledgeable not only about the trail, but also about the birds and plants we encountered on our hike. It made for a fun and very informative trip. Turns out, we were not hiking through a rain forest. Because we were over 1,000 meters above sea level, we were in a tropical cloud forest. I liked that. It sounds even MORE magical than a rain forest.

By the time we got to the five kilometer mark, I was struggling. I had to rest every few minutes or so. My breath was becoming more and more difficult to catch. We stopped for lunch. At this point, I was really worried. We were barely to the half-way mark, and I was having serious issues. We heard a rumble in the distance. Our guide told us it was probably an ATV tour. Apparently, the rocky trail was enough to take an ATV to the top, another fun adventure that only took a couple or hours or less. Sure enough a group of ATVs came roaring through. They paused though, stopping to chat with our guide. Sure enough, they all knew each other. After some chatting, they offered to take our bags to the top.

WHAT?

OUR SAVIORS.

They took our bags from us. We were free to walk up the hill unencumbered by the twenty-five or so pounds we had attached to our backs. Our shoulders rejoiced, and we continued our journey up the volcano. Still, it was difficult, but at no point did I think that I would have to quit. True, at the last 100 meters, P.I.C. had to coax me up twenty-five steps at a time. I did it though. Well, we did it. I wouldn't have been able to do it without his gentle encouragement.

We got to the top a little before 4:00 p.m. Even without our bags for half of the hike, it took us nearly eight hours to reach the top. We set up camp at the telecommunications base to shield us from the wind. It was very cold at the top, so we bundled up in our hats, gloves and extra sweatshirts. We put the tents up, then sat down and had some wine. Shortly after that, we had our dinner: chicken and rice. It hit the spot after a very long day of physical exertion. We went into the tent at about 6:00 p.m. with the idea that we would take a nap and wake up to see the stars later. We woke up, but only to the sound of a hard rain pelting our tent. Back to sleep we went until about 11:30 p.m. We both had to get up, so we had the opportunity to check out the night view. The rain had let up and the skies cleared to show us the magnificence of the sky and the stars. Never in my entire life have I seen so many stars. It was tremendous. We were exhausted, however, and made our way back to the tent for more sleep.

Rafael woke us a little before 6:00 a.m. It was time to climb to the summit and watch the sunrise. I threw new contacts in (how I accomplished this with my cold and grubby fingers was beyond me. Say what you will, but hand sanitizer doesn't make your hands feel truly clean.) and were out of the tent as soon as we were able. We began the last 20 meters to "la clima." There was a brief assent, then we had to climb up some rocks. It wasn't intense as in "we should have had ropes," but both P.I.C. and I confessed to each other that it was enough to make us feel like we were on a Mission Impossible.

We reached the top for the sunrise. Words can't do it justice. Honestly. That says a lot for me, a woman clearly of many, many words. We felt as though we were on top of the clouds.

A semi-lovely morning, we were able to see the sun rise, the Pacific Ocean and the mountains of Costa Rica. It was too cloudy to see the Caribbean Sea (we were lucky to see that up close and personal a few days later), but the views unobstructed by clouds were marvelous. Shortly after the sun was up, the clouds came in and we climbed back down the rocks to our camp site.

We packed up and headed on down. Because it had rained, conditions were slick. I fell. Four times, in fact. I was tired, it was slippery, and my legs felt as though they were made of jello. It was hard to remain upright. The journey down was more business and less sight-seeing. We made it down to the bottom in under six hours with our packs the entire time.

We. Did. It.

In retrospect, I think we were absolutely insane to embark on such a challenging and intense hike. We should have settled for one of the half-day hikes and called it a day. However, I would never take back the experience and the sense of accomplishment I felt at reaching the top. It was incredible. The views were spectacular, and really, when can you say you hiked to the top of a volcano? Not that often. In the event you have a momentary lapse in sanity, I highly recommend the guides from Habla Ya/Explora Ya. They were very knowledgeable, professional and very fun. It's not a cheap tour, but since we were not great hikers, we wanted to go with a person who knew what he (or she) was doing.

Also, we were incapable of walking for three days after this. Seriously.

I'm baaaaack.

Hi friends. Obviously, I have not been as diligent in my blogging lately. I swear, I have a very good reason: I was on VACATION. Yep. P.I.C. and I took a much-needed trip for nine whole days to Panama. Panama, the country, not the lame city in Florida, that is.

We are now rested, relaxed and duly whining about Chicago cold. It is as though we never left. Well, except that we now both have toasty tans. (As toasty as us two very white people get, that is.)

I have plans on writing much more about our adventures. You'd think, and you'd be entirely right, that there is a lot of writing for me to do to tell you all about our trip and the awkwardness that ensued when I realized exactly how poor my Spanish language skills have become. I promise, there will be stories.

For now, you will have to be satisfied with a few photos.

The canal, from our tiny plane.

Our camp-sight after our hike. That little orange blob is our tent. I took this photo from the very top of the volcano (Volcan Baru.)

Coffee beans, on Tito's farm.

Monkey stare-down outside our hotel, Cerro Ancon, Panama City.

The gorgeous view from the balcony attached to our room at Garden of Eden Resort in Bocas del Toro.

Stories to come, I promise! For now, I need to do some laundry and rest. Oh, and Christmas is less than a week away. Yikes!

Neuroses

I believe that anyone who works in my line of work has a little bit of a Type A, control-freak to their personality. It's the nature of the game. Personally, mine is not manifested in tidiness of office or home. I tend to be a bit lazy with the organization of my files or my office...or the shoes in my closet. However, when it comes to working my files or deep-cleaning or even folding of the laundry, I am very particular. (P.I.C. has learned this the hard way. Even if it is his turn to wash our towels, he still has me fold them. The first two times he folded them his way, he not only witnessed me re-folding them, but also my accompanying tutorial as to how he SHOULD fold them.)

To say I have my own neurotic streak is putting it mildly. Any big purchase, okay, ANY purchase, really is researched thoroughly. I ask my friends, read reviews, price things out, basically anything to make sure what I am buying is the perfect item to fit my needs.

Our upcoming vacation has been the perfect way for me to really get crazy on my research. The hotels must be affordable, highly rated by travelers and accessible by our travel means. The day trips must be recommended, reserveable and worth the cost. Hiking shoes? Hiking pants? RAIN coat? So. Much. Research. OVERLOAD. I love it.

Suffice it to say that I believe I have thoroughly annoyed the two people with whom I have been corresponding in Panama. They write back once to confirm, and I just cannot resist writing back, "Oh. Heeeeey. Can you tell me which tour you recommend?" Can't. Stop. Writing. In fact, I suspect that some of my recent bout of insomnia is due not only to lack of exercise, but also to this fixation on getting every deal of our vacation perfectly planned. Oh, and my outfits perfectly planned out too. I mean, come on. We will be taking a ton of photos. I want to look casually traveler, NOT like a dorky American. My blond hair and pale skin will give me away fast enough. (And I'm just reminded...when WILL I fit in that spray tan. But should I bother? I bet the nearly 100% Deet spray the guy at Moosejaw sold me will spray it RIGHT OFF. Then I will look a splotchy mess in my bikini. My new, HEAVILY-researched bikini that will not only make me look 10 pounds lighter, but also stay comfortable for a day-long snorkel trip. WELCOME TO MY CRAZY BRAIN, KIDS.)

I hope I can relax when I get there and enjoy myself. I just hope that the new waterproof camera I have my eye on will not bust when I dunk it underwater the first time. Ten out of the two hundred reviews said it did. YIKES.

Pray for me people. I need a vacation. From MYSELF.

Running in the snow

"...I was ruuuuunnnning in the SNOOOOOW..." Y'know, like singing in the rain? Get it???

Whatever. I thought I was being rather clever.

With vacation looming, I have abandoned all ideas of dropping poundage before we leave. There just isn't enough time and I would rather not live the next week on carrots and hard boiled eggs. Don't get me wrong, I like both of those things, but when I limit my diet to minimal carbs and low-calories, my usual mega-bitch lurking below comes out with a vengeance. While others might be amused by my angry and ranting blog postings, much of the time I write those when I really feel crappy about the world. So, in conclusion, I'm going to have my wine, eat my carbs, and have some chocolate. RIGHT BEFORE VACATION. Deal with it. Only P.I.C. has to deal with seeing me in my swim suit, so who cares, right?

All that being said, my concern runs to this hike on which P.I.C. and I will be embarking. Honestly, I just want to avoid keeling over on the side of the volcano. I am not the most regular exerciser. That is not to say that I don't enjoy it. Well, truthfully, I don't. I do know that I feel better when I have been working out regularly. I sleep better, I have more energy. You know, all that crap they tell you to get you to join a gym? It's actually pretty true about exercise. Rather than beating myself up for continually failing to get up early enough to hit the gym before work, I decided I was going to just FIT IT IN SOMETIME TODAY. So today, I fit in a quick run. Outside. In the snow.

My legs? They are very upset with me.

Legs: "Um, really? You're gonna run for a week then NOT run for two weeks and just expect us to be happy about it? We are NOT OK with that. For the rest of today, we will be achy. That achiness will likely feel like someone is ramming a fist into your hamstring tomorrow. ENJOY."

Me: "SHUT UP LEGS. I'm preparing you for the volcano. Stop being little bitches."

(Doesn't everyone talk to their body parts?)

So I bundled up with my two sweatshirts on, my hat and P.I.C.'s shuffle (he makes the best running mixes) and set off for a little run. Sadly, a song and a half later, the shuffle died. It was just me and my thoughts for the duration. It was actually very nice. The snow was the powdery sort. Big flakes, yes, but they merely floated through the air lazily, as if to say, "Welcome to December, Chicago." Thankfully, it wasn't sticking around otherwise I would have feared for my own safety. Not only have I not run in two weeks, but I also seem to have a problem with tripping and falling. I am a klutz.

So me and my thoughts? We were just fine. I didn't fall down. I ran without walk breaks. I did NOT sing. Remember, the shuffle died? I absolutely CANNOT sing without my back-up music. Now, aside from my legs being jerks, I feel pretty good.

BRING ON THE VOLCANO!

Tuesday is starting off so promisingly.

As far as Mondays go, yesterday was a tough one. The first day back after a long weekend is never easy. Add an underfed (as of late body), a poor night's sleep the night before and a truly annoying workday, and I am reaching for the bottle of wine before I can even BEGIN to tell P.I.C. about the day's annoyances. However, this quickly-cooling Tuesday morning has started out tremendously better.

While I did not get up for the gym this morning (AGAIN), I do not consider this a failure. I went to bed at a normal hour, I slept soundly, and after P.I.C. went to the gym (Go HIM!), I slept soundly for two more hours. I really needed it. It is amazing how much a good night's sleep can give you a new, better perspective on life. Also, P.I.C. woke me up with a cup of coffee. That always makes me smile first thing in the morning.

Additionally, vacation quickly approaches. Nothing wrong with that. Of course, I am stressed about getting everything done before I leave, but I did get an email that my hiking pants have arrived. Hooray! I shall pick those up today and be ready for hiking in Central America. Fingers crossed that I make it up and down the volcano in one piece, yes?

Tuesday also means GLEE day. Lucky for me, I have no plans for tonight so I can watch it live. That makes me extremely happy. That also means I can read Faux Trixie's and Amie's dueling Glee posts in a timely fashion tomorrow. That will make THEM happy. MERRY CHRISTMAS, LADIES!

Additionally, I awoke to a truly awesome youtube.com video from Miss Sass. People who know me, know that I love a good youtube.com video. On bad days, little else cheers me like a video of a cute animal just basking in its cuteness. Or a cat video. That too. I admit, I am a bit crazy cat lady, but this video is TOO GOOD not to share.

Most Awesome Video

Props to Miss Sass for uncovering this one. It is ALMOST as great as Cat vs Printer, the translation.

Additionally, I will be in and out of the office for the next two days traveling our lovely state, a task that always makes the week fly by a little bit faster.

Not even noon, and I'm still feeling pretty chipper. I'd say that's a fine Tuesday.

Hey bandwagon, 'sup?

I cannot RESIST jumping on this "Things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving" bandwagon. I do enough griping about my first world problems, I appreciate any way to gain some perspective of my honestly pretty awesome life. I probably could spend my entire day coming up with things for which I am grateful, so I am narrowing it down to my top ten (well, top ten for today.) Without further ado, here is my version of that list.

1. I am so, so grateful that I have a family that is amazing. I don't see them nearly enough, but I know they are there for me throughout all thick and thin. I love you all.

2. On that same token (I almost just wrote toke...ooops!), I am grateful for my friends. They really are the family I get to see all the time. Whether they are friends I have had for a very long time, or newer friends, all have become an integral part (and there, I just typed party...no shock there) of my life.

3. To my P.I.C., you really do make my life better just by being in it. You put up with so much shenanigans because of me. I can't imagine life without you.

4. TURKEY and GRAVY. I don't even have to EXPLAIN that one. Both are awesome. Fingers crossed that I deliver the goods tomorrow.

5. I get a real vacation this year. Yep. I'm still bragging. Can't help it, but here it is. Not only do I have the opportunity to GO to a completely incredible place, I have the vacation days and a work that will allow me to take SEVEN DAYS (IN A ROW) away from work. Happiness.

6. Digital cameras make me happy. Photographs are my favorite way to capture memories since I seem to forget things quite often, so I take a lot of pictures. Digital cameras make that easier.

7. Oxford (my cat, not the city, although the city AND the university are pretty cool. How do you think my cat got his name?). He might puke and be a jerk most of the time and have a weird affinity for licking plastic bags, but he's a great pet and not one day passes where I don't say, "OMG, look at him. He's so cute."

8. My space heater at work. Seriously. Does it need to be FORTY degrees in here near round. My space heater makes me feel lovely. Oh yeah, and cuz it turns off when I kick it over, I know it's safe. (Please don't tell my bosses I have one. They would confiscate it, and that would make me sad. And cold.)

9. My naturally blond hair. I always have an excuse when I say something dumb. ALWAYS. (And, for what it's worth, shut up if you think that my attitude perpetuates the "dumb blond" stereotype. That is just dumb people. PERIOD.) My inherent laziness means I will not color my hair. I am grateful that it is a decent enough shade to not HAVE to color it. Yet.

10. This blog and my followers. Honestly, after a childhood and teenage years of writing every single thing down that happened in my life, I didn't write for a long time. Starting this blog (well, this incarnation of that) has been one of my most favorite things I have done in the past year or so. I'm grateful that I have this outlet to vent or just blab. I'm even more thankful that there are people who actually READ my inane drivel.

THANK YOU!

I wish everyone a very happy and safe Thanksgiving.

PANAMA!!!!

Perhaps my title reminds you of this little diddy. Maybe it doesn't. That is not importante. Why am I using a little bit of my Español in this post? Well, I have big news, readers! I am going on vacation. Yes, a real, "take more than a week off from work" vacation. I need my passport to get there. It's all very exciting right now. P.I.C. and I just bought our tickets and now are working out the details for the specifics.

For now, here are some of the highlights on our agenda.

Of course, we will be checking out the Panama Canal:

We also plan on spending a few days in Boquete. During that part of our trip, we intend to embark on a hiking trip to the top of Volcan Baru, the highest volcano in Panama. Allegedly, on a clear day from the summit, you can see both the Pacific Ocean to one side as well as the Carribbean to the other.

Hilarity should ensue becuase we will be camping. P.I.C. and I are not really campers, but we feel like this will be an amazing way to experience the highlands as well as the beautiful nature of this region of Panama.

After a two day hike and hopefully touring a coffee factory (the coffee from this region is supposed to be amazing), we are going to be beach bums for a few days.

Doesn't that just scream serenity? I hope so. This will be our last stop before we head home to what most certainly will be snowy and unpleasant climes in Chicago.

Has anyone traveled to Panama recently? I would love to hear travel tales or suggestions.

(CONFESSION: The main point of this blog post was to make you all insanely jealous that we are traveling to Central America in FIVE WEEKS. A secondary point was to get that Van Halen song stuck in your head. How successful was I in both of those endeavors?)