What happens when your plans for the day go *poof* - all up an smoke?
Which is highly likely when you have a teen who isn't all that keen on getting out of bed.
Plan A {was}: Early drive to Santa Cruz, stopping at the French bakery for coffee, then a nice long walk along Cliff Drive (because you KNOW I'm not just getting coffee...it's a damn French bakery for cryin' out loud).
Step 1: Wake Teen.
Step 2: Wake Teen again.
Step 3: Wake Teen again again, then check arsenal of get-kid-out-0f-bed tools: squirt gun, spray bottle, air horn, heavy cat for tossing on Teen. Check, check, check, check and double check (we have TWO fat cats for tossing).
Unfortunately, kid gets out of bed before the fun can start...phooey.
Judging progress with a teen is as follows:
*Kid gets out of bed.
*Lands on small couch.
*Several minutes on small couch inspires kid to move to big couch.
*Several minutes (lots of several minutes actually) inspire kid to finally get up.
It's now 10:30a.m.
But kid is out of bed and that is progress.
Beach plans kaput.
So...
Plan B:
A HIKE! See, if the kid had any sense he could have had a French pastry and a stroll by the beach, now he gets hills and a water bottle. Silly boy.
Better leave the flask in the car.
I kid.
Maybe.
That is one big hole.
It was cool inside, too...like a labyrinth.
A labyrinth in a spooky oak grove...
I'd drink from my flask (that I don't really have, cause I was kidding, but it's a story so go with it) and I'd shrink.
But, not smaller than the critter that made that hole, I don't want to get eaten.
Then, I'd slide into the hole and explore the lair of the evil ground squirrel Dr. Bigtoof.
(It's my story and squirrels have big teeth - I suppose you have a better name?? Let's not even ponder the whole Doctor/Squirrel thing).
Anyway...then I...
Um...
Did I go off topic AGAIN?
Silly me, I shall get on with the blogging stuff....
Where was I?
Oh, ya...Plan B.
Landed us here.
They don't look so bad, right? Easy peasy...
Until you get half way up and discover there are more of the little bastards.
I hate them...but I force myself to climb them.
I've climbed them many, many times.
Stupid fucking stairs.
It NEVER gets easier. Ok....I 'suppose' it would get easier if I did it more than 2 or 3 times a year.
But that is just crazy talk.
I climbed the other set too, that I didn't take a picture of.
Stupid fucking stairs.
After the stairs, Nick and I felt the need for sustenance.
Notice the big black V?
It doesn't stand for Victory.
Or, even Very, Very good.
It is kind of close to Vitally important Vittles, though. (I think that was rather clever)
It DOES stand for Veggie, as in Vegetarian, as in DELICIOUS (which does not start with a V).
I skipped the meat, the cheese and the sour cream.
You may be thinking, "Well then...what's the point of eating at all?"
I am not a Saint, oh...no.
It wasn't easy passing up all that numminess.
But, considering the satellites that have started orbiting my ass, I figured cutting back a bit is wise.
And get this...the wonder of Chipotle...is that EVERYTHING, even the lettuce, is fantastic.
My nekkid burrito bowl was awesomely good.
I celebrated good decision making skills with ice cream.
Baby steps.
We ended our outing by stopping at Blockbuster for movies - because doing anything physical after all that eating could cause a cramp.
Cramps can be dangerous, you know.
We got The Green Hornet, The Season of the Witch and The Adjustment Bureau. We are on #2 at the moment - I'm not reviewing them, but let's just say that updating a blog while watching isn't a challenge. ;-)
Until next time...
Peace.
This is the same kid, of course, who, 10 years ago, would run into your bedroom at 5am on Saturday, shaking you and yelling, "ARE YOU GOING TO SLEEP ALL DAY?????"
ReplyDeleteMelissa - it sure is!
ReplyDelete