Franklinsanity

A crank's musings on family, drink, travel, food & life

recent posts

about

  • East Kansas

    East Kansas

    7:45 am-930 am, Colby, KS and parts East:  I am distracted by back-to-back conference calls.  I process the following:

    • I slept remarkably well at the Sleep Inn.  Sea level vs. 11,000 feet apparently a gift to my lungs.
    • Kids, wife and dogs got themselves into the car quickly and quietly and fast – or so it seemed; I was trying to fit myself into the front seat with a backpack, a half-case of sparkling water; a boken (don’t ask); hiking boots; my cowboy hat; and 3 baseball caps – while also being told by the CEO that I was the one “chairing” the call.
    • While I am chairing the call, we drive a long way; it’s flat and the road is straight.
    • At various points, I am trying to understand something someone with a French accent is saying about market research.  Teddy is trying to decide if he’s seen an Alaska license plate.
    • One call ends, and I make people stay on to have a call in order to talk about the call.  This is less inane than it sounds.
    • I believe this is less inane than it sounds, until I realize that our team has already figured all the stuff out that I was figuring out as I blabbered at them.
    • I acknowledge this fact, and then, proud of myself, keep blabbering.
    • It occurs to me that the two guys on the call are doing a lot of the talking, but the woman on the call is saying the smartest and most practical stuff and otherwise staying quiet.
    • This finally prompts me to get the hell off the phone.
    • It’s still flat and the road is straight.
    • We get the kids off their big present – road iPads – and turn on Harry Potter.

    Very psyched, as we are heading to a B&B on a farm, for the other “luxury” part of our road trip.

  • Where There’s a Will…

    Where There’s a Will…

    10:01 pm.  Very disappointed that our one reader in Denmark apparently has not returned.  Something is rotten there, methinks.

    Exit, pursued by a doodle.

  • Alpine. Slide.

    Alpine. Slide.

    9:34 pm, Colby, Kansas – as I sit in our Sleep Inn (ha ha), where a friendly, cigarette-smoking biker held the door for me while I wrestled the collapsable dog bed through it, I am remembering our earlier-in-the-day awesome activities (referenced in the last post).

    Specifically, Awesome Wife got rid of the dogs for half a day and found us the Alpine Slide and related activities.

    (That link isn’t my own video, btw.  If you want to know what my trip down the mountain was like, watch that video and add The Empress screaming:  “Faster, Daddy!  FASTER!  HAAHHAHAHHAAHAHAH!  Pass Mommy!  Go FASTER!  Don’t slow down!  YAY!  Bye Mommy!  BYE!”)

    Awesome Wife caught up at the end.  We’ll call it a tie.

    It wasn’t the luge, but I figured it was close enough for government work.  Until we went on “The Coaster,” which is like the Alpine Slide – if the Alpine Slide took the blue pill and got modemed into the Matrix.  Individual, streamlined, hi-end cars with breaks for each hand, sliding on stainless steel, CAD-modeled tubular tracks.  Totally sick.

    I don’t think I want the Empress to see Top Gun anytime soon – for a whole lot of reasons aside from a need for speed.

    Next, the kids went zip lining, and rope walking.  We cheered – and watched a giant thunderstorm come in.  We ate lunch on the mountain while it poured, bused down, got the dogs and got on the road – and eventually got stuck in traffic.

    Looking forward to getting to our Farm Stay, and enjoying sea-level air.

    This is a lot of farmland.  If this climate change thing plays through and it turns back into a dust bowl…man, we are screwed.

    But for now, I’m typing this while running the water and drinking from plastic bottles of the stuff, while using all the towels.

    Kidding.

    https://instagram.com/p/428xhETP_4/

  • Traffic

    4:35 pm, somewhere outside Denver, on the way to somewhere inside Kansas.

    Here’s the thing about traffic:  it’s always lame – but it’s especially lame when accompanied by an urban sprawl.  It also doesn’t help that a giant earth mover that is towing some kind of super heavy metal box as it pounds dirt flat, so it can be paved over for more highway, is moving faster than we are.

    Traffic wasn’t so bad heading into a river valley on I-80 in the Rockies, for instance.  Although the dogs did not agree – they really, really wanted to attack a white-water-rafting party they could see out the window.

    “Enough with the musings on traffic, jackass, how was Colorado?,” you are probably asking.

    A fair question.  The night was a little rough.  Here’s the breakdown:

    • Fried from an eight-ish hour drive through the Utah desert (stark, somewhat terrifying and unfortunately devoid of Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef; of course those movies were all shot in Italy), we rolled into Breckinridge looking forward to what we thought would we one of the 2 high-class parts of our trip:  the Lodge at Breckinridge.
    • Instead, let’s summarize our reaction as:  impressive website, underwhelming real-world experience.  For starters, while it’s indeed atop a low mountain, facing other high mountains, it’s so new that it’s basically standing in a dirt clearing – which this time of year is pretty muddy; the rooms are tiny; and the bathrooms tinier.
    • Basically, the room at the Sheraton in Salt Lake City put the Lodge to shame.
    • Also, Kelly got bad altitude sickness, the dogs had cabin fever, and the kids were overtired.
    • Where the Lodge wins, in fairness:  super dog friendly (they write the dogs names on a chalkboard in the lobby when you check in), a cool lobby and a very good, kid-friendly, mountainside-perching restaurant.
    • Unfortunately, within minutes of sitting down, Ted had decamped to the bar to watch a Cubs game, Kelly went to go barf or lie down or both, and Quinn and I were left staring at each other, waiting for our food – meaning really that I was quietly yelling at the Empress to not spill her water for the fiftieth time.
    • Food was great, however, and the service friendly.  We were all in bed by 9:30, though, even the dogs – in a room, which this time was about the size of our car.
    • Up at 5:30 with altitude-and-wet-dog-induced asthma, and because I had at least 2 hours of work before a conference call worth interrupting vacay for.
    • Enjoyed the lobby; drank Gatorade and coffee, finished my call, and rednezvous’d with the fam, who had pawned the dogs off on a mountain-dog-fitnes-hiker person.

    More to come – really, the best part.  Stay tuned – same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.

  • Colorado Here We Come

    1:50 PM, somewhere near Yellowcat, Utah, about a third of the way through The Chamber of Secrets.

    I am wearing a cowboy hat, under the naive impression that it makes me look imposing, if not actually tough or cool.  The vultures we just saw sitting on a road-side sign appeared unimpressed.

    Big Country out here, goes without saying.  Kind of a hilarious contrast to Hogwarts – although we are trying to outrace a fairly fierce looking and sounding thunderstorm.

    Aside from the scenery, the highlight of our day so far is finding that we are on the same bathroom-break schedule as some friendly-seeming stoner hipster dudes.  Big Country, sure – small bathrooms.

    Well, Fruita in about an hour and a late lunch.  The Empress despised the pizza in Utah; we’ll see if she likes it better in Colorado.

  • Goodbye Tahoe. Hello SLC: D-Day+2

    Goodbye Tahoe. Hello SLC: D-Day+2

    Heck of a 24 hours.  Surprisingly little time to post; I’m sure our vast readership has been disappointed.  Therefore, let me catch everyone up, relatively efficiently:

    • Saturday was a rainy day in Truckee – but the five kids and I still got in about 2 hours of pinecone-tennis-scooter-frisbee, or something.  It was awesome, though some of the neighbors driving Porsches around didn’t appreciate the massive spiked pinecones we scattered in their path.  Whatever.
    • Rain also meant our incredibly awesome and fabulous hosts the Kawajas took us to the Lodge, aka the activity center in their community, which had basketball, ping-pong, shuffleboard, bowling, arts & crafts, pool, a lot of friendly staff, and most importantly, Racer 5 IPA on tap.  I may have gotten cranky because I cleverly separated myself and four of the kids from everyone else, and then the kids separated from me in four directions.  It all worked out – even got a man-lunch in with Chris, which inevitably involved more beer.
    • Rain stopped, all went swimming.  Then back to the house; actually napped; played more frisbee, and then to a BBQ that involved two bottles of 35-plus year old wine.
    • Bed at 930.
    • Up at 7, packing, breakfast.  I’m getting better at this giant-neoprene-bag-of-bags-on-the-roof thing.  Have I not mentioned this?  The Sher-Pak, it’s called.  It’s like something that an S&M fetishist, a car enthusiast and a SCUBA nerd dreamed up – all straps, zippers and rubber – and it holds all our bags, so the dogs can ride in the trunk.  Anyway got everything settled and locked down within 40 minutes.
    • Driving by 8:20.  Very excited.  We stop for gas and because Kingsley
    • 8:25. We stop for gas.  And because Kingsley can’t not bug out about his bowels and/or bladder five minutes into a drive.  Once again, very excited.
    • Reno, Sparks – all the great sites on the way to Elko.  There’s supposedly some kind of Native American art installation right next to the highway a few hours out of Reno.  Helpfully, the website has lots of sort of creepy totemic pictures – and no directions. We find the nearest town, which scares the crap out of us, because it’s mostly shacks, old cars, an unpaved street and generally the kind of place zombies hang out.  No art.  We leave.
    • We pass creepy totems five minutes later, right next to the highway.
    • 2 pm. Excellent burgers, craft root beer and fries at the dog friendly Mattie’s Bar&Grill.  A great break from driving.  Mattie’s also features posters for a motorcycle raffle that supports the local animal shelter.  The posters feature a souped-up Harley with a small kitten sitting on it – and urge ticket buyers to “Get some PUSSY a home; GET LUCKY and GET SOME and take home a $28,000 bike for nearly free!”  We feel kinship with these kind rafflers – surely they would understand driving cross country to keep your dogs happy.  Or maybe we’ve just had too much craft root beer.
    • 4:45 pm.  93 degrees.  Eat a giant slim jim while squinting through the Bonneville Salt Flats.  Speed limit literally is 80 – I’m going around 90 and people are passing me.  We’ve been listening to Jim Dale read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.  I have to stop the DVD ever 7 or 8 minutes to answer questions.  I think this is fun.  I like answering questions.  It drives Kelly crazy.  Eventually, she and Quinn fall asleep.  Finally, Teddy also asks to just color.  The salt flats go on.
    • 5 pm.  We wake the kids up to make them crunch around the salt flats.  I think this is cool.  They find salt-encrusted garbage.  We hustle them back into the car.
    • 6 pm-ish.  We find our dog-friendly Sheraton.  It’s big.  They can’t recommend any dog friendly restaurants nearby, so we order room service.  Remarkably, the dogs DON”T urinate or defecate in the room – as far as we know.  The room’s big too.  We get a bunch of food – no glasses and no utensils.  I tell the kids people in SLC only eat with their hands.  Kelly doesn’t think this is too funny (it’s been a long day).  The kids don’t believe me, anyway.
    • I also tell the kids the city was founded by people who discovered a book in upstate New York, written by an angel named Moroni.  They don’t believe me.
    • Pool, swim.  Shower and bed – only the fold out couch is blocked by a granite table that literally weights 4,000 lbs.  I somehow move it.  Good luck to the hotel staff that has to get it back in place.
    • Tomorrow, COLORADO!

  • D-Day+1: Milky Way and Pancakes

    7:10 am, kids are awake.  Have been for awhile, actually, but were decent about staying in their sleeping bags.  Keeping with our emerging theme of togetherness, we all slept in the same room, along with the dogs.  Of course, Mom & Dad got a king-size bed – and the bedroom is larger than the entire car (certainly it has more than 95 cubic feet of “passenger space”).  The kids got sleeping bags – and the dogs got a folding crate.

    Let’s talk about the dogs.

    Normally, the furry Franklins bed down right when Kelly and I do, and but for a bit of snuffling, snorting and shifting, sleep the night through.  Not so much, last night.

    In fairness, Kingsley’s not used to being in a crate any longer – and the folding crate also is alien to Oonagh, who has her own box, which we had to leave at home.  (It took up at least 3 cubic feet.)

    At any rate, at 1:30 am or so, both dogs were in full whine.  So, like the good soldier that I am, I tiptoed over the sleeping kids, rattled and jiggled the unfamiliar crate mechanism, took them downstairs and opened the front door, praying there wasn’t a burglar alarm on somewhere.

    No burglar alarm.  Just an almost completely full moon, in a cloudless night sky, and the Milky Way.  I’ve seen it before, even in the mountains under a full moon.  It never gets old, though.

    The dogs hadn’t seen it – we’ve never taken them out at night.  Mr. The King stood stock still, staring at the moon for a good five minutes.  I kept waiting for him to howl, or something.  Instead, he just peed and chased Oonagh into a prickly bush.

    So, got them back inside and went back to bed.  Now it’s time for pancakes!  I can’t possibly write about Kelly’s psychotic dreams on an empty stomach.

  • Tahoe.

    6:20 PM, we made it to Tahoe in one piece.  Mr. The King once again almost had a heart attack.  Kids were shockingly good – their behavior appears to vary inversely with the speed of my internet connection up here.  Probably time to play with them.

    And have some wine.  Some people we used to know in Brooklyn used to call this “Parenting con Vino.”

    Oh, wait – they moved to California too (hi Goffins!).  Ok, back to being present.  Love Tahoe.  Thanks Kawajas!!

  • A Few Facts For Posterity:

    2:24 PM, somewhere past Vacaville on I-80 N.

    Let’s clarify a few things.

    ABOUT OUR CAR: A VW Tiguan, according to Car and Driver Magazine, is “basically a Golf on stilts.”  So, that’s our x-country vehicle, folks.  Not really all that roomy.  Yet It’s nice and black and brand new (for some reason the people at the dealership just gave us a 2015 model in return for our old one).  Other nice people at the car wash pointed out it it also has a long scratch on the passenger side.  Not sure Kelly knows this; I’m not going to mention it.  Like I said, STREET.

    ABOUT OUR DOGS:  They are miniature golden doodles.  A manly breed.  For a man.  Assuming that man likes that his dogs’ classification rhymes with one of the silliest-sounding words in the English language.  In any case, they’re minis because their dads are miniature poodles.  They have the same mom, who is a full-size golden doodle, the hussy.  They’re supposed to be around 25 lbs, but Kingsley – or “Mr. The King” as we often call him – is more like 45 pounds of hyper-intelligent, needy affection.  He’s also not golden.  He’s black.  Oonagh The Red Dragon (thank you, Goffin girls) is the expected size, and color.  She’s also, always, up to no good.  Except so far on this trip, she’s been a breeze.  Mr. The King is at present trying to climb onto Ted’s head as he naps.

    WHAT WE’RE WEARING:  Her:  Banana Republic blue-and-white striped sun dress and Toms.  No-name-brand sunglasses.  Him:  Dior, with a cowboy hat from Cavender’s, near Dallas.  The Kids:  Vinyard Vines.  Pop Quiz, readers; how much of this section is true?

    WHY WE’RE ON THIS TRIP:  Our dogs hate flying.  And we respect our dogs.  And, as the name of the blog suggests, we’re a bit daft.

  • D-Day! con’t

    1:04 pm, CA-37 N.  Heading to Tahoe for a weekend with our friends the Kawajas.

    Quinn, The Empress, already flipping through her new Star Wars activity book.  Which appears to make R2D2 noises with every page turn.

    Teddy obsessing over his dog coloring book – and map of the US.  He’ll color in each state when he sees a given state license plate.

    Maryland!  Wham, an East Coast plate right off the bat.  The guy in the BMW next to Maryland (also a BMW) has a vanity plate that says DMN GNA.  I guess that’s a bummer if you’re Gina. Unless it’s supposed to mean she’s hot?  I don’t know.  Plenty of time to ponder.

    1:11 pm, Kingsley freaks out.  He seems to need to do some serious evacuation.  Yes, it’s true, he refuses to do his business until AFTER he’s been in the car for 15 minutes.  We pull over.

    I think we’re well conditioned for this trip, as a family.  Just sayin’.

    Lovely traffic on 37.  The sun is sparkling off the cars and the low-lying salt flats near the North Bay.  The sky is a particularly rich blue.

    1:18 PM, Kelly threatens to pull over for the second time within 7 minutes because The Empress has grabbed Kelly’s sun hat and crumpled it up.  I unbuckle my seat belt and climb into the backseat, from which I can carefully place the sun hat back in a flat position in the trunk.  With the dogs.  I’m sure they won’t touch it.

    I officially hate R2D2 noises.