The Family Vacation

The Family Vacation... What memories! What togetherness! What fun?

Even now, I can see your eyes going out of focus as you look into the mists of your own memories. Memories of vacations past, where you were tortured beyond belief by long boring rides in your parent's car, or by your own children's predilection for projectile vomiting.

OK, that's enough remembering.

The family vacation is something that I didn't have as a kid, so all of my memories of the family road-trip have been created by the adult me (and Mrs Gunfighter, of course).

It has been our great good fortune to have had incredibly fun family vacations, and today, I am going to share our secret for vacation success.

For us, going on vacation means alot. Going on vacation means changing our location... going some place that we enjoy, and spending some concentrated family time. Some time away from our jobs, our work in the church, Scouting, coaching and attending soccer games, commuting, occasional travel for work, local politics, volunteering on County committees, and on and on. We are a busy family, but we love to be together, and while we enjoy our time together as a family unit, that can be in short supply at times.


Clan Gunfighter is made up of creatures of habit. On vacation, we like to do most of the things we do at home... eating home-cooked meals, watching our usual television shows, and spending time together. Whether we do this in Williamsburg, Virginia, where we spend spring breaks, or in Orlando, Florida, where we go in the summer, we enjoy the "home away from home" experience. Because we like to do "home away from home", we became owners in the Hilton Grand Vacation Club a few years ago, so when we go on vacation, we are in a beautiful, large apartment unit, with all of the amenities, as well as a full kitchen and laundry machines.

So: The secret. I suppose I should make that plural, because our secret has multiple parts... the first part being this: The journey is part of the vacation, too. For us, the drive is every bit as much a part of the fun as going to Disney World. Because we tend to take a lot of things with us, like Soccergirl's stuffed "friends", we normally will rent a minivan for the trip. Oh go ahead, scoff if you like.

Decorating the Minivan the night before departure has become a ritual. We use window chalk that we get in the automotive section at the local Wal-Mart.






Everyone in the family is listed (and has their picture drawn on the window)








(The creature that you see there is one of my own renditions of our late, lamented greyhounds: Duncan and Zoom.

Once we have the van decorated and packed, and all of the sundry electronics (phone chargers, XM radio, iPod, DVD player, etc... ) installed. It's time to go!

We head out listening to our traditional music: 500 Miles (I'm Gonna Be), by the Proclaimers. During the ride, Mrs GF and I get lots of time to talk while Soccergirl watches a movie or reads, which is quite nice.

We always make good mileage, but we are never in such a hurry that it is a problem if someone needs to make a restroom stop, before the next "scheduled" stop.

When we arrive at our destination, we unload the van and set up our "new home" and proceed to enjoy each other's company. One central theme of our vacations is that, more often than not, I will cook our evening meals. We do this, not as a money saver, but because we want to enjoy a meal in a home-like environment.

Having arrived, it is time to tell you the next part of our secret, and here it is: Only do what you WANT to do on vacation. I know that Disney World is an expensive vacation... it is the main focus of all of my overtime efforts, but we resist the need to "do everything" while we are there. I can't tell you how many times that we have seen families in complete misery because mom or dad is so determined to do it all, that no one in the family is having any fun. So, we get up late, we swim, we take our time about getting to the theme parks, and we R-E-L-A-X. So what if we planned on going to the Magic Kingdom in the morning and Epcot in the evening, and only made it the Magic Kingdom? Who cares? Don't want to ride the big rollercoater everyone is talking about? Don't! Vacations are supposed to be fun, so we never worry about what we are "supposed" to be doing... we just do what we want. In our normal lives, we spend so much time regulated by the clock, we really have a good time when we only have make sure that we get a certain little girl into bed at a reasonable hour.

The next part of the secret is the most important part, and that is: Have a high threshold for failure. While you are on vacation, don't make any one thing so central to your success, that if idoesn't happen the way you want it, your whole trip is ruined. We have seen people who, while on vacation, must do everything... and not just do everything, but do it in a certain order, and get a certain feeling from having done it, and scheduled every last thing that they are going to do, down to the minute, that if it doesn't happen perfectly, their vacation is ruined. God knows that living within boundaries like that is difficult enough in our day to day lives, imagine trying that while factoring in the vagaries of the weather in Central Florida!

Here is an example of doing it right:

In 2001, the 9/11 attacks took place on our last workday before our vacation. My boss released me from duty early that day, because the chief was about to cancel all leave... Mrs GF and I determined that we should still go on vacation as sort of a metaphorical middle finger to those who think that they can keep Americans down.

We drove to Orlando, and arrived there the same day that tropical storm Danielle made HER appearance. No big deal right? It's only water. Well, we did our best and continued our fun in the (almost) completely deserted parks, enjoying the fact that Soccergirl could ride the Winnie The Pooh ride, Dumbo, and The Carousel as many times as she wanted, with no waiting in line.

We were having a good time until a few days into the vacation. One day, we were in Gooding's grocery store and Soccergirl abruptly puked all over the floor. The staff, knowing how vacationing tummies can be (especially since they were directly across the street from Disney property,), took it in stride. We didn't think much of it until later when she puked again. Hm. The next day, she rallied and we thought we were out of the woods, when we were about to get on The Pooh ride, and she erupted, like Mount Vesuvius all over the front of Mrs GF's shirt. Soccergirl started to cry, Mrs GF was COVERED in vomit, and I was starting to freak out. We all went to the child care center, where Mrs GF change SG's clothes, while I went to one of the shops and bought my poor wife a new Minnie Mouse t-shirt (which she has to this day)

My poor child was sick. We went to the emergency room of a local hospital, and were seen by the nice nurses and doctors, who administered some medication and gave SG some Popsicles (a fun way to re-hydrate). We missed a few days in the parks, but no real harm was done. Once SG was back on her feet, we continued with out family fun, none to worse for the wear. We even stayed an extra day.

We still count that vacation as our benchmark. If you can go through a major terrorist attack, shrug off the forces of nature, and deal with a sick child all in the same vacation, and still have fun, that's when you know that you're doing it right. Any one of those things could have ruined our trip, but we refused to let it.

There you have it... Clan Gunfighter's secrets for the perfect vacation.

NOTE: A couple of years later, we were there for Hurricane Charlie... I'll tell you about that one at a later date.

GF

Today's post for the Parent Blogger Network Family Vacation blogblast, was sponsored by the fine folks at PickPackGo.

45 Minutes At Border's

Last night was Soccergirl’s Brownie Scout meeting. Nothing unusual in that, other that a slight change of routine. After her dinner of leftover Spaghetti, we headed to the designated meeting place, where the ever efficient troop leader said hello, and “check your email. I sent you something this afternoon”. With that, I was dismissed from the world of women and girls. I would have ninety whole minutes to myself!

Bliss.

I decided to go over to the café at our local Border's book store and read... and people watch. I toke notes, of course, because, hey!... I'm a blogger, and I’m weird like that.

Upon arrival at Border’s, I took a quick spin through the Science Fiction section to see if there was anything new on the shelves since Saturday. There wasn’t, so I proceeded straight to the café with my book. I made camp at one of the tables in the recently renovated seating area, and took stock of the people sitting in my immediate area: There were two guys playing chess, who were taking it awfully seriously (they had a clock and everything). These guys didn’t look like they date much, but what do I know? There was a guy in his mid-thirties who was with a young girl of about 4; they were looking at a children’s magazine together. There were a couple of uncouth young men who didn’t have the decency to take off their hats indoors (which really bugs me), one of who was reading a sports magazine, while the other was reading PC Utilities magazine. There was a man in his 40’s who was reading a fishing magazine… and taking copious notes from it. There was a woman in her mid-thirties who was copying recipes from several cookbooks.

NOTE: Does anyone else think that this is a poor practice? It irritates me when people treat bookstores like libraries, taking books from the shelves, using them for homework, or research, with absolutely no intention of buying anything. Worse, these thrice-damned clods don’t even have the grace to put the books back on the shelves.

Anyway, there is a young woman, of about 21 years, sitting at the table directly in front of me, who is eating a huge burrito. The burrito is so large, the young woman is sort of planting it on the table, holding it with both hands, and instead of picking it up, she is bringing her face to burrito-level to take bites from it. She also has a tattoo in the small of her back, which her ill-fitting shirt doesn’t cover. She pulled her shirt down at least six times in the last 15 minutes. Take note, sweetheart: If you don’t want to bare your midriff, wear clothes that fit!

There are two people sitting behind me who have met here in order for the man to talk to the woman about her resume. He is some sort of resume wizard and she is an educated woman whose English isn’t as good as it might be, and he is helping her with her job search and CV.

Other patrons of the café include a couple of people hunched over their laptops and talking earnestly into their cell phones.

An aside, I realize that the purpose of the chairs here in the café is the comfort of the patrons, but I really don’t think that the people who came up with the whole comfort scheme meant that the earnest young fellow reading the computer magazine should have his bare feet tucked under him in the chair.

OK, the young woman with the burrito called it quits after eating only half of it. A good thing, too, because her boyfriend/study partner has arrived and gotten his lap top all set up for something. Not that this matters, because since his arrival, the young woman has received a steady stream of visitors, including one woman who I think was her mother… all while the guy sat there, ignored.

One thing is certain; the Border’s café is a fun place to watch people… even if it is a bit too noisy for my tastes.

At the appointed time, I took my book and headed for the exit. I had 15 minutes to get back and pick up Soccergirl. It was a beautiful night, and I drove with the windows down, listening to the radio. I got to the school just as the meeting ended.

Soccergirl said that she had a great time. I'm glad she did. I did, too.

A Rant, If I may

I'm going to say something unpopular today, and as much as I am loathe to give offense, some of what I say may offend some of you. Hold on tight.

Here is the thing: I'm getting a little tired of all the, what I call "veteran worship" going on these days. Although I think that our veterans are worthy of respect simply because in a society where fewer and fewer people are willing to serve their country in uniform, credit belongs to those "in the arena".

Our veterans are (mostly) good people who have given our country the benefit of their service, usually deriving no small benefit of their own from their military/naval experience. Indeed, where I work, you'll find that 80 percent of the men are veterans.

Our veterans have served their country in war, peace, "police actions", counter insurgencies, and wars that have no names. Our veterans have done things most Americans will never have to do... or even imagine having to do.

I come from a family of military men. My dad was a career soldier, as was my brother. My father-in-law is a navy veteran of combat in the pacific during World war Two.

I am proud to be a veteran, and proud of my fellow veterans.

What I am NOT proud of is listening to a bunch of @*#&%$* politicians simpering out how American soldiers are serving in Iraq to protect our freedoms, etc...

Our military men and women are being done a disservice by our country. While they are serving our country and fighting a war at the command of our government, this should not be misconstrued as fighting to protect my freedom... or yours. They have been ill-used by rascals and scoundrels of both major parties, for political reasons, and I am disgusted by it.

Most of my male friends are veterans. Soccergirl's Godparents are vetereans. I have friends that have served in Beirut, Lebanon, the first Gulf War, the Invasion of Panama, Grenada, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and fought Philippine rebels in the jungles (didn't hear about that one, did you?... well, none of them were to wear the Purple Heart medal for their combat wounds). Some of those friends are terribly embittered. Not because our country didn't fall over itself, kissing their asses when they got home, but because they realize that their efforts were frequently for nothing.... because they were ill-used by their government.

Oh sure... the rhetoric can be downright heart-breaking, with bumper stickers like: "If you value freedom, thank a vet" which is nice, but unless you are thanking a veteran of world war two, you are probably wasting your time. Our soldiers haven't fought to physically defend America since then.

Anyway... our veterans deserve better. Our active duty servicemen and women deserve better. They deserve better than being the wounded, maimed, fucked-up, political ponies that our politicians are making out of them.

It Was The Best of Times...

...It was the worst of times.

It was a time of joy, it was a time of sorrow. It was a time of sheer magnificence, it was a time of lazy indifference. It was a time of pride, and a time of disappointment.

It was a weekend of youth soccer in Suburbia.

On Saturday, soccergirls team (which I coach), The Dynamite, played a beautiful, and joyful hour of soccer, in which they defeated their opponents in a decisive 8 to 3 victory. Soccergirl had 3 goals, and she, as well as all of her teammates played with skill and verve and determination. They worked hard, and pulled together. They played as a team, they talked to each other, they passed the ball around, the took hard driving shots at the goal.

They were fearless. They were fierce.

As a coach, I was proud of their hard work, and quite pleased with the results. As a parent, I was near bursting with pride, watching my child play so well.

Saturday was a good day for the family.

Today, I was reminded of the 18th verse of the 16th chapter of Proverbs that says: "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." What I mean by that scriptural reference is that I felt so good about how well we did yesterday, that I was unprepared for the ass-whooping we took today. We lost 3-0. Sure, the other team had to work for it, but to say that my girls played like CRAP wouldn't be an understatement.

They were bloody awful.

They were contact averse, they were taking their time on the field, they were kicking the ball in the WRONG DIRECTION. In short, they did everything the opposite of the way they did it the day before.

It was truly painful to watch. My goalies did a fine job. They worked hard and stopped lots of shots... unfortunately, there were just too many shots on goal allowed by the rest of the girls.

They ain't gonna be happy at practice Thursday, believe me.

Coach Gunfighter ain't havin' ANY of this crap next week!

USMC Silent Drill Platoon

Reader Soccer Mom In Denial asked me who these guys were... so I thought I would share.

The Silent Drill platoon is an infantry platoon that is part of the battalion that makes up the bulk of the Marines at Marine Barracks, Washington, DC. For the most part, all of the troops are ceremonial. There are two companies of infantry that comprise the "marching battalion", as well as The Drum & Bugle Corps, The Marine Band, Headquarters & Service Company, etc...

During the spring and summer, the battalion puts on two parades per week, in addition to any other ceremonies (eg, White House stuff or funerals at Arlington National Cemetery). These parades are the Sunset parade, held on Tuesday evenings at the Marine Memorial in Arlington and the Evening Parade, held Friday evenings on the quadrangle of the main barracks area.

The video below, is from a performance during a summertime Evening Parade.

Enjoy!

Oh, the area where the Marines are marching is only about 20 yards from the sign you saw on the earlier post, that says "Marine Barracks".

Remembrance of Things Past

I had planned to start this series a few weeks ago, but life had other plans. So here we are.

This series of posts will be about places that have either meant a lot to me, or I have at least found interesting enough to tell a story about during my now-twenty one years in the Washington, DC area.

I have been here since May of 1986, when I was assigned to the Marine Barracks located at 8th & I streets, Southeast, in Washington, DC. The Day I arrived in DC was an important one, as it has shaped the rest of my life.

After being assigned to DC and learning to love the place, I put down roots here and decided to stay here after my second enlistment was up (I had plan to make a career of the Marine Corps, but coming to DC spoiled me).

After the end of my first marriage, I lived in a few different places until I ended up here, on A street, southeast. I lived in a rather small apartment in this building, but my memories of this time are very happy, on the whole. While I lived here... I call it my time in the wilderness, I learned a little more about the grown-up me... I also learned to find joy in a spartan environment (no lie, my kitchen was smaller than the closet in our current walk-in closet.


Seen from the rear of the building, in this picture, my apartment was on the top floor on the corner. Yeah... pretty small, but since the building was under rent-control, I was only paying $600 a month! It was in a great neighborhood, that had an incredible amount of police protection (there were lots of members of Congress in the neighborhood).

You know what one of the other great things was about that apartment? It had really, really hot water, and incredible water pressure! Now, as a suburbanite who lives in an area where homes are being built, I have become used to less than thrilling water pressure, but after showering in my old apartment, your skin would actually tingle!

The other great thing about is something that I already mentioned. The neighborhood. The neighborhood was only 4 blocks from the main Library of Congress building, 5 blocks from the great Capitol Hill pubs that I used to haunt, like the Hawk n Dove, or Tunnicliff's Tavern and just 2 blocks from venerable, old Eastern Market.

Although I lived in this neighborhood during what could have been a real low point in my life, sorting through the train-wreck of my post-divorce life, I wasn't miserable. While living there my love for Washington, DC deepened. My love for urban living blossomed. I started to grow.

My apartment was a short walk from the Eastern Market Metro (subway) station, which I rode to and from work (and the gym, which was my main entertainment, since I was pretty much broke... but in great shape).

Eventually, things started to turn for me. I was promoted twice, and having a little more money allowed me to I start taking a bit more joy from my surroundings. Fastpitch and I would make day trips every other weekend, to the National Zoo, or the ride the carousel on the National Mall, or ride the metro out to Pentagon City mall.

The best thing that happened to me during this period, though, was that I met and successfully wooed, the person who would become Mrs Gunfighter.

I left that neighborhood when we got married, in 1994, and headed for the Virginia suburbs. In the intervening years, I went to work for a different agency and work in the Virginia 'burbs, I still have to go into the city from time to time, and when I do, I always drive through the old neighborhood.

It makes me happy.

My Surgical Diary (III)

I've seen the surgeon, this morning, and he has given me a clean bill of health! He removed my stitches, and is pleased with my recovery.

The part that you just read, took about 5-10 minutes of my appointment... we spent the next twenty minutes talking about rguby. Turns out that he is as rabid about it as I am.

Even better, as I was driving up to our house, the refrigerator delivery people were parking in front!

So, it is now 10:30, and the rest of my day is clear. I could go back to work... but I'm not!