Pumpkins for the Punkins

This year we didn't make the trek to the mega pumpkin farm. The month already seemed so busy with sports, plus our mountain weekend (where I hoped we might sneak in a visit to a patch). In hindsight, I sort of regret not going. Fortunately, Tim and his parents managed some pumpkin procurement while I was in Cape Cod, so our porch is not bereft!

Running Away

Last February, in Tahoe, I made a bet that, frankly, I didn't think would come to pass. If Mallie ran a half marathon, I would go skiing again. Evidently I underestimated her, and it would seem that I will, at some point, be strapping on some skis, as this past weekend we ladies of 329 completed the Cape Cod Half Marathon. And I really hope it becomes a tradition.

Kettle corn at the finish was a major incentive for Mal Pal.

 October is my favorite month, and autumn is my favorite season, no question. So a tour through one of New England's glittering gems at this time of year was a slam-dunk as far as I was concerned. (Bonus points for a fairly flat course.) I had already sworn, after last November's Atlanta half marathon, that I was through running through the ATL for long distances, because the views simply do not match the effort required for the incessant hills. This vow, paired with my desire to make more of my girls' trips active ones, led me to a fabulous April race with Sheryl (the Chickamauga Chase 15K, through picturesque Chickamauga National Battlefield on the border of Georgia and Tennessee) and now this Cape Cod half marathon.

I remain supremely impressed with Mals' dedication to run this, considering she had never run more than a 5K. Breen overcame injuries, Susan snapped out of her semi-retirement, and together we had a truly wonderful weekend. We stayed in Charlie's aunt and uncle's incredible home on the Cape, ate ourselves silly, and gabbed and gabbed and gabbed.

The view from the house where we lodged.

We're all now nestled back into reality, but I am already scheming for the next race, fueled by my memories. You can't run away from your problems, but you can run away to good times!

Post-race lunch and beverages.

3 Years and Counting: Mountain Weekend with the Francos

Writing stories on the porch.

The GA-TN line.

The third time was just as charming, and sealed the tradition of our fall mountain getaway with the Francos. We blended essential elements from years past (glow sticks, hiking, wine and cards) with new ventures (fishing, camp fires) and came away with wonderful memories, as always.

This year's house was an online find located in Blue Ridge, GA and right on the Toccoa River. And when I say "right on," I mean that if your car doesn't navigate the 45-degree angled driveway properly, it will wind up in the river. Driveway aside, though, the location was fantastic because the river provided gorgeous vistas, and enabled Danny to fulfill his long-harbored hopes of fishing. Actually, we primarily have Luis to thank for that. Thanks to his pursuit of a fishing license, rods, and bait - and Tim's patience in hooking worm after worm on rods - Danny and Gabrielle happily fished for nearly four hours on Friday afternoon in the glorious sunshine (Clare and Isabella kept themselves otherwise occupied). Danny caught a small one, and later Luis and Gabrielle a larger one, but mostly they reveled in perfecting their casts and absorbing the fresh air. Saturday afternoon saw them fishing again, but the fish weren't biting and it was a bit chillier, so somehow the glory wasn't quite recaptured...but Friday was spectacular enough for all.

Posing with the conductor on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway.

Fishing gals.

The riverside fire pit was also a major highlight of this year's house, especially on Friday night when the moon was full (and there was no football competing for our attention). S'mores and moonlight are a magical combination, and provided Clare's favorite moment for the weekend. It also brought out Tim's inner pyro...

Caught one!

Campfire kids.

We managed to find a hiking trail that didn't test anyone's limits this year, and surprisingly Clare and Isabella led the way. What a difference a year makes!

We also checked out the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway, opting for the open-air cars which were, in fact, a bit chilly but provided some nice views. Not sure we need to repeat the experience, but we did get the chance to stand on the Georgia-Tennessee line and witnessed a "Drug and Gun" emporium that really made us wonder. We also enjoyed the charming town of Blue Ridge, where Tim found an olive oil store to his liking and the kids spent a loooooong time with some animals up for adoption. But clearly the best times were had back at the cabin.

Happy hiker.

It's always a bit exhausting to vacation with kids, particularly a toddler, but well worth it, especially in the company of solid friends. Here's hoping to many more mountainous weekends!

Between the Posts

Life according to the blog may seem slow, but day-to-day life during the school year is anything but. Not always remarkable, but definitely busy. A random sampling of things lately includes:

A visit to the doctor, when she passes the waiting time by getting stylish.

Decorating for Halloween, an eagerly-awaited task each year.

Breaking in the Halloween costume.

Sleepovers.

A victorious chestbump after a Danny-to-Will touchdown pass and run.

As always, stay tuned.

Grownup Getaways

This past June, Tim and I decided to indulge in a weekend away. It was our first getaway without kids for over three years, so it is an understatement to say we needed it. We opted to really treat ourselves by heading to the Ritz-Carlton Reynolds Plantation at Lake Oconee. This was an ideal location, because it was not only fabulous, and felt really far away, but only took us 90 minutes to travel.

We enticed our friends Scott and Sheryl to join us, so that Tim would have a golfing buddy and I would have someone to head with me to the spa and while away hours (6+) by the breathtaking pool. It was heavenly, and we definitely had to drag ourselves away that Sunday afternoon.

The view from our room at the Ritz.

The Broadmoor

Rocky Mountain golf.

Having truly shot our wad at this place (but worth every penny), I figured something like this probably wasn't on our horizon for another 1-2 years. But one day in late August, Tim came home and announced he had earned a trip from work. A long, almost-all-expenses paid weekend at the Broadmoor Resort in Colorado Springs.  With just four weeks notice, and neither set of grandparents available to keep the kids, our initial response was no. It seemed awfully far to go while leaving the kids in the hands of babysitters. But we kept dreaming about it, and convinced ourselves that opportunities like this do not come along very often. Fortunately, our trusted sitters that we used for our Ritz weekend were available, so we seized the moment (despite a heart-wrenching meltdown from Danny the night before I left - Laura didn't even look up when we departed).


















It was glorious. Late September in Colorado is possibly my absolute, ideal climate. I got in a couple of runs and luxuriated in multiple spa treatments. Tim golfed twice, and I joined him on the latter part of one of his rounds, since he was fortunate to be playing by himself and the views from the course were spectacular. We also enjoyed a morning hike together, and of course several kid-free meals. The entire weekend was the antithesis of our scheduled-to-the-nanosecond existence - not to mention the luxury of having Tim all to myself.

I am happy to report, too, that after three days and nights, I was ready to see my chickies again. Of course, 30 minutes after my return I was already mildly annoyed and frustrated, but we'll chalk that up to jet lag...

Hard to say when we'll be lucky enough to get away again, so for now we'll look forward to our family getaway with the Francos in a couple of weeks. Not exactly the same, but sure to be wonderful in its own way.

Compare and Contrast

After picking up a couple of library books for Danny, our latest voracious reader, Laura and I ambled across the street to the Smyrna duck pond. It was a glorious afternoon, and she was relishing the views, the creatures (geese, ducks, fish, turtles) and especially this copper frog.

It naturally brought to mind the photo session that took place for Clare's third birthday in this same spot.

I started to think, while taking the pictures of Laura, that I could see sisterly resemblance. Now, though, I feel like you have to look pretty hard to see it.

So...yeah. Maybe distant cousins. But they're both mine!

The New Frieda?

"Look at my hair! It's so beautiful!" is not an uncommon phrase to come out of Laura's mouth. So much so that I was reminded of the character from Charlie Brown, Frieda, who is famous for patting and protecting her "naturally curly hair."

What we find funniest about it, though, is that more often than not, Laura is running around looking like an absolute ragamuffin, light years away from a well-coiffed look. I snapped this picture one morning at Publix, after she saw her reflection in the glass doors and announced, "My hair is beautiful! I look like a princess!"

(Note also the berry stains on her pajamas. Toddlers and Tiaras is not our future.)

With another daughter entering the self-consciousness of adolescence, I have to fully embrace this vanity - and naturally cannot wait to show her these photos when she's a teenager.