Yesterday I opened a “letter” from my mother; a perfect example of
her eccentric idea of correspondence. Bereft of card, signature, or,
God forbid, “Dear Daughter”, the envelope contained 3 newspaper
clippings – each annotated with her inimitable, looping script. To the
first clipping, a review cautioning that a new kid’s hardback called
“The Graveyard Book” may be too dark for sensitive children, my mother
had added “This sounds good!” A study exploring the effects of the
color red on both attention span and anxiety prompted this commentary:
“You know I made all red things for your cradle and crib! How to
create an obsessive compulsive?” And of course my personal favorite,
an interview in which Nadya Suleman, the recent mother of octuplets,
asserts that she wanted a family to help combat depression. In this
article the words “children” “cure” and “depression” have all been
manically underlined. Radiating a giant arrow, the newspaper’s indent
points to my mother’s own thickly inked phrase: “What an idiot!” She
may not write much, but it sure reads loud and clear.
My mother’s attitude towards children and their rearing being what it is, she often chose the Wolf Creek Inn as the ultimate destination on the many and extensive road trips we took together. Touted as “the oldest continuously operated hotel in the Pacific Northwest” by the State of Oregon’s recreation department, the Inn boasts perfectly articulated period décor, both a ball and dining room, and a magical, perfumed orchard. It is also remote, haunted, and almost entirely unfit for children (read: no television).
When you board an airplane and walk past the first-class passengers settling into their double-wide seats, it’s difficult to avoid feeling like a second-class citizen. The issue isn’t only personal space. As the curtain closes behind the lucky few, you know the crew is preparing a nonstop feast for those with plenty of disposable income.
Generally, the time to avoid is the hurricane season that officially runs between 1 June and 30 November. However...
Diamond Head is just about the most prominent landmark visible when you are in Honolulu and Waikiki on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. As you lay on the beach, it is a great reminder that the beautiful Hawaiian Islands were all formed from volcanoes. It's kind of amazing. Diamond Head crater itself is said to have formed with a single, brief eruption about 300,000 years ago.
Leaving Maine in the long, dark days of Winter and heading west to Calistoga, California's mud baths is a a tempting break this time of year. Calistoga is a precious, tiny town at the top of Napa valley that hasn't changed in the least in the last 20 years that I have been going to "take the mud". I must confess I am a spa junkie and this place is pretty wonderful – a town of spas all with different mud blends, super restaurants within driving distance, nice weather with dreamy morning fog and wineries every 100 feet. What is not to like?