I’m Really Not Here…

BUT, a few photos from my recent trip to Sun Valley are over at Melissa’s Buzz Off column at Alpha Mom today! Go tell her what YOU did for summer vacation…

Road Trip! (With unlimited parentheticals!)

We’re leaving tomorrow morning for a week’s vacation in the home of one of D’s clients.

I haven’t prepared one bit. I haven’t packed, I haven’t created a single list (serious travesty), I haven’t thought about what I’m going to wear (we are vacationing WITH D’s clients, which means I have to be Whoorl 2.0: Perfectly Coiffed Edition at all times), I haven’t planned for the 14-HOUR ROADTRIP WITH TODDLER THAT I ACTUALLY SUGGESTED INSTEAD OF FLYING BECAUSE WE LACK A SENSE OF ADVENTURE SO HELP ME GOD, I haven’t done anything.

What have I done today?  Well, for starters:

1. I wrote this completely pointless blog post.

2. I set up all sorts of iPhone/Flickr/Twitter/Twitpic applications. (Road Trip 2008! Live blogging! Would that be fun? Boring? Ridiculous? Do tell! If I keep asking all of these questions, I won’t have to pack.)

3. Dropped by Old Navy to buy Wito some socks and never made it to the kids’ section. (Try to deny the cuteness of this and this and these, Whoorl 2.0: PCE! Try!)

4.  Actually took the time to take photos of those jackets because they aren’t listed on the website.

(Are we sensing the level of procrastination yet?)

5. Attempted to fix Crayola Disaster #2. I obviously didn’t learn anything from Disaster #1. (How about keep the fucking crayons AWAY from the furniture, Whoorl?)

(My solution? Flip the couch cushion until D finds it and maims me.)

7. Laundry. (This one counts as preparing, right?)

8. Whispered sweet nothings to my laptop before saying goodbye for an entire week. (Although, I’m bringing my iPhone for quickies.)

It’s nearing 2:00. I must go. Wish me luck, my friends! Any toddler road trip wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Actually, any wisdom pertaining to anything on the planet would be welcomed with open arms. (That way, I can read your comments INSTEAD OF PACKING.)

Quick Update

Leaving in a couple of hours for San Francisco.

Chick-fil-A was fantastic. (#1 with a lemonade, to be specific.)

Wito awoke at 5:30am again.

This morning’s breakfast request?

Mac & Cheese. (???)

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Things That Are Blowing My Mind

1. The weather forecast for my trip to Oklahoma.

The new state motto - “Come to Oklahoma and inhale the fiery breath of the devil!”

Ah, Oklahoma. How I DON’T miss your weather.

2. The current state of my laptop.

Most of the damage is due to a little turd named Wito, although, really, whose fault is it for leaving her laptop in a toddler’s path of destruction? I’ve been fine with the physical damage, but now it seems my screen is on its way to laptop heaven. (Word to the wise, working on a laptop with a blank screen isn’t productive.)

Never fear! A new Macbook Pro is on its way! Let’s all do the Roger Rabbit together!

3. Wito turns 22 months old tomorrow, and has a memory like an elephant. Seriously, watch the dude in action.

Due to this development, I’m already forced to watch my mouth. Obviously, I’m not doing a very good job since I heard a fairly over-dramatic “Ohhhhh, SHIT” coming from the living room yesterday afternoon. I’m sure he’s just brimming with excitement to use this new word with his grandparents AND great-grandparents in Oklahoma. Maybe we can work on something like, “God DAMN, it’s hot here!” before arriving tomorrow. Wish us luck.

The Floaties of Yesteryear

We’ve made a last-minute decision to spend our Memorial Day weekend in Palm Springs, which means one glorious thing. POOL TIME. I can’t fully express the excitement I am feeling about spending the next three days lying by a pool, but it’s safe to say I’ve broken out the African Anteater Ritual a couple of times this morning.

Pools are hard to come by in a beach community, mainly due to the fact that there is this large mass of water called an “ocean” within walking distance. The ocean. Yes, it’s beautiful and serene and what not, but it’s also a pain in the ass. Just the beach packing ritual alone is enough to make me talk in tongues, not to mention the damp sand that Wito enjoys eating by the fistful. I have sand issues. I admit it.

But, pools! POOLS! Backyard pools beckon you with promises of instant access to a bathroom! A nearby refrigerator filled with snacks! No sand! A towel and sunblock is all you need, my friends.

In a nutshell, the pool is spontaneous and easy to enjoy. The beach causes certain people to lose their shit in an alley.

This morning, I made a quick (ha!) trip (ha!) to Target (ha!) to purchase some sort of flotation device for Wito. Now, in a typical Whoorl Planning Situation, I would have conducted the proper research in a timely fashion, but as you see, we are leaving in less than 24 hours and Target was my best option.

After spending 45 minutes in Aisle 26, I came to an enlightening conclusion. Parents only have two options when it comes to toddler pool safety.

1. Toddler experiences hours of pool fun, but is forced to wear a contraption that looks like Dora the Explorer puked all over it.

OR

2. Toddler is quarantined in an oversized Pack-n-Play thirty yards from the pool because the parents refuse to dress him in a Cookie Monster Wears Hawaiian Shirts And Eats Coconuts life jacket.

What happened to the plain yellow floaties we wore as kids? Oh yeah, that’s right, they now cause cancer, early stimulation of estrogen receptors, a huge lisp, etc.

Oh, and the whole Swim Level thing? I spent upwards of 20 minutes reading the backs of multi-colored packages about all of the Very Important Swim Stages. Is Wito a 1? 2? A? C439?

Listen, I just want my child to maintain a proper level of oxygen in his lungs for the next three days, but of course, I caved and bought a couple of options. I couldn’t help it, I was having trouble reading the fine print due to my acute blindness from the heinous patterns everywhere.

FYI - I am leaning towards the Swim Sweater. (3 Million Sold! 3 Milliones vendidas! 3 Millions vendus! More like, HOW COULD YOU GO WRONG, IDIOT PARENT?)

My Head. It Has Not Been Reattached.

Well, hello! Here I am. Headless.

Things haven’t really simmered down on the home front nor the Hair Thursday front. I returned Friday from Oklahoma, where Wito was cared for (read: spoiled rotten) while I was prancing around New York with TV makeup on.

I ask of you, television guest or high class hooker?

It’s a tough call, my friends. I’m sure the makeup was spot-on for the cameras, but the six business men who shared an elevator ride with me in my trench coat afterwards probably assumed the latter. You should have seen me walking into my hotel, just waiting for the manager to pull me aside, all Pretty Woman-style. (Excuse me, madam. Where do YOU think you’re going?)

Although, I’m happy to say I would have kept those false lashes on for the rest of my life if I had the chance. (Dear unbelievably awesome hair and makeup team, any chance I could get you to move to California? I make really good margaritas! Love, Whoorl.) As for the television appearance, I will let you know as soon as I get an air date so we can all laugh together at my rambling in front of a live studio audience.

Gulp.

Speaking of the television show, did I mention that the week before my trip to New York, field producers were sent to my house to film an at-home interview, as well as some additional footage of my day-to-day activities? One of those day-to-day activities was me bloggity blogging on my computer, and only in the middle of filming my hands typity-typing did I realize that my nails were possibly atrocious.

Guitar lessons + nails = Not Pretty. ZOMFG.

My living room was completely inundated with bright lights, microphones, people, cords, did I mention people? Yes, people staring at me while I talked about lord knows what. It was truly an surreal experience.

Fast forward to the present. Wito has had a fever of 102-103.5 for the past 36 hours. He’s a sick little dude, and I am taking him to the pediatrician in a couple of hours. My house is in its normal post-weekend state (DEMOLISHED) and guess who’s coming over in 5 hours?

ABC NIGHTLINE.

It’s clearly a slow news week. Let’s recap - messy house, sick baby and Oh, OH! Nothing to wear. Send help.

(At least my nails are manicured this time around. Positive thinking RULES.)

A Word Of Caution

Ketel One martinis + The New York Times anticipation = Ouch.

Ladies and gents, I’ve had a crazy week. You see, I’ve been on vacation with my family, which included a little bit of this:

La Cucaracha from whoorl on Vimeo.

(Wait, doesn’t everyone have a 6-foot statue of Captain Hook included in their vacation rental?)

A little bit of this:

And, a little bit of this:

Look at those cheeks. MONCH MONCH MONCH.

Meanwhile, my job responsibilities over here are morphing a bit, and of course, the New York Times article made its appearance and rendered this site inoperable for several hours.

As much as I would like to pretend that I calmly waited for Thursday morning’s arrival by speaking phrases such as, “The NYT’s Thursday Style section is quite a treat and the piece should be just delightful, my dears. Now, pass the bubbly, Ronald!”, that’s not exactly how it went down.

On Wednesday, the butterflies made their presence known. The interview and photo shoot were both so exciting, but I really had no idea about the size and scope of the article. By 4pm, I had decided with the utmost certainty that the title of the article would be:

NEUROTIC WOMAN POLLS INTERNET ON HAIR CHOICES WHILE CHILDREN STARVE.

My family decided I was in need of some adult beverages. Now, I usually have no issues with drinking a martini (need to create a new, exciting dinner? Try drinking a martini! Just watch the cooking improvisation unfold!), but the adrenaline building in my body created some sort of catalyst, hurling me into the galaxy of drunkity DRUNK.

(Two martinis! Just two!)

(Drunk, I tell you!)

D and I returned home around 10:30pm, I set the alarm for 6:00am (our local coffee shop only sells 5 copies of the NYT and I HAD TO HAVE ONE. Or three.), and clumsily plopped my head on the pillow.

Whoah. Spinning.

I groggily mumbled “UGH”, grabbed my pillow and trudged into the living room, where I attempted to watch the nightly news with one hand covering my left eye. You know, to reduce the television rotation.

(Two martinis! Just two!)

(Lightweight, I tell you!)

I must have succumbed to one hell of a deep slumber because I woke up at 2am on the couch, completely disoriented and apparently very hot, evidenced by my turning the thermostat ALL THE WAY in one direction to cool off the room.

I made it to the bedroom, crashed into bed and immediately fell asleep.

What happened next can only be described as moderately painful. The alarm went off. My mouth was dry. It felt incredibly hot in the bedroom. I stumbled into the living room, or what felt like the fiery pit of hell, looked at the thermostat and the room temperature was registering a balmy 86 degrees. I had turned the thermostat the wrong direction.

(Two martinis! Just two!)

(Idiot, I tell you!)

Did any of you see the Sex and The City episode where Miranda drinks 1,000 martinis with the extremely good-looking detective and wakes up with the worst hangover in the history of mankind?

That was me.

Still not getting a crystal clear visual?

How about this.

Luckily, I made it to the coffee shop in one piece. Wearing jeans, my pajama top, and smelling of vodka. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have PAID anyone to believe that was me in the photo.

Let this be a lesson to you all. Butterflies and alcohol do not mix. Go forth and spread the word, my friends.

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