One more photo blast

Sorry. One more photo blast. One of these days, things at the Chamber of Horrors my workplace will settle back into a somewhat manageable level of chaos, and I can get back to writing for fun rather than profit.

We went to Las Vegas this summer. Twice.

Check the eye rolls at the door, please. It was fun. It was, dare I say, relaxing. If you consider a constant auditory parade of Rihanna and Katy Perry relaxing. (It's kind of like a wild 36-hour trip to a total immersion Pop Culture Camp before humbly crawling back to the relative comforts of NPR.)

I think I've said this before: My date and I have changed our approach to Vegas over the years. Now we go for the three Ps -- pool time, people watching and perishables (ie, the grub). Our trips did not disappoint.

We went with Dr. and Milady Poophead, the Seattle out in-laws, in July. They're a swell pair to travel with.

This is Mrs. Poophead chatting up a cab driver.
The woman can break down even the most crabby cabby.

Hey kids -- a mini TV on the bathroom faucet
advertising Cirque du Soleil.
It's the latest rage!

A bulldog walked into a bar in Vegas, , , ,

Everything seems just a little larger than life in Vegas.

I rest my case.

We returned somewhat spontaneously in mid-September, sensing our warm, sunny days in Bermtopia were quickly becoming numbered. Just a more few days of the hot, dry desert sun, please.

Much better, thank you.

A big boxing match was slated for Saturday at the MGM, where we just happened to be staying. Let's just say the boxing crowd was a bit different than the pharmaceutical crowd, who swarmed the MGM when we were there in July. (Although we certainly learned firsthand why our box of Zyrtec costs $15 when the convention hosts basically "bought" -- and closed -- three of the pools at the MGM for an private afternoon-evening fete. Sadly, we had tickets to "Jersey Boys" and could not attend.)

The pharmaceutical reps wore lanyard name tags.
Boxing fans didn't.

And just when we thought our Vegas lives were complete,
look who stopped to say "Good-bye" as our cab turned out of the MGM

ELVIS IS IN THE HOUSE.

Bermtopia-by-the-Sea 2.0: The Thanksgiving Edition

Prologue

Most of the time, the time-space continuum and I generally leave each alone. I basically ignore him, and he's obviously so busy keeping order in the universe that I matter very little. But occasionally, the time-space continuum likes to swing around and slap me upside the head. Like Saturday, when I realized,  "Holy crap, I've got to get organized!"

Because Saturday the time-space continuum was kind enough to remind me of this: We leave for Portland, the Oregon Coast and Thanksgiving in a week. 





Does this have a familiar sound?

Yes, another beach holiday. But with a twist. We're sharing it with the Seattle Poopheads -- my date's sister and her date -- and their (grown) kids! We have houses right across the street from each other.

Seems The Numbers and The Cousins cooked up this plan over karaoke one night. (Surely a few barley pops were involved as well.) And here we are.

There will goofiness and gaiety, hijinks and hilarity, small children and wet dogs, walks on the beach and books by the fire. We could be buffeted by wind and rain, or beach comb in shirtsleeves under the sun (did both last Christmas). We will cook for vegetarians, vegans and Hoovers (Like the vacuum, Hoovers consume all in their path. If you haven't already figured this out, I am a Hoover.). We will be mindful of nut allergies and pretend calories don't exist.

Above all, good food and good company will be the constants in each of our days on the coast.  

But before our coastal adventures begin, I think I should introduce you to the cast of characters. And what characters they are.

At our house, The Retreat, meet:

Really. They could be twin brothers, I swear to god.

My date, of course

My mom, The Mom Unit, also doing business as Gram Ellie. The only difference between Martha and The Mom Unit is that my mom has never worn prison orange.












The Number One Son and his lovely wife The Miz. He's the knucklehead on left, below.

 

The Number 1 and 2 Knuckleheads Sons.

But, someone will be missed this year -- The Number Two Son is off conquering Corporate America in his new job (health insurance!)  as a web developer (health insurance!) in Seattle. As such, he's low man on the totem pole (health insurance!) and couldn't get the time off (health insurance!). Monopoly games just won't be the same without him. 








Across the street, at The Big House, there's

The resemblance is amazing

The Good Doctor and Milady Poophead
















The CeeKavs -- Ms. CeeKav is my niece and one of The Cousins (and you might know Mr. CeeKav from over at Pants on a Raccoon), plus their two kids M and Q, also known as The Critters, pictured here.

Pretty adorable, eh?

and

My other niece, Ms. LMP, and her date, The Rahlinator. They round out The Cousins. Do you think we should give the Divine Ms. L a heads-up that most of us left our Polaroid cameras on the Ark?

And two of our most important guests -- Ben and Sasha! (Sasha is a CeeKav, btw. Did you see the resemblance?).

So there you have it: Bermtopia-by-the-Sea 2.0: Thanksgiving Edition. We'll be sure to write. 

But would you excuse me now? I need to go make a list. My 23rd of the day.