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Chico.

AND in California.

But so very tired.

So here is a teaser…

So.

We’re at our first destination. Actually, we got here yesterday afternoon, with car-stiff legs and really, really happy faces when we caught sight of the waves.

But first, some quotes from Catherine along the way:

“Bananas are obnoxious. They’re all like EAT ME! EAT ME! Oh, too late. I’m brown.”

“This song is special.”

“I would be a good city planner because I think strategically and methodically.”

This tiny beach town in Oregon is the site of many childhood memories for me and some teenage ones for Catherine, so our first few minutes were spent driving around seeing what had changed.

Answer: Not much.

Our first plan was to set up our campsite. But we noticed rather immediately that we had company.

We are beset with bunnies.

Seriously.

They’re everywhere.

We’ve named them, even… there’s a little white one that we call Chico.

I tried to get Chico to come say hi to me (oh, the wittle tiny bunny wunny!) but when I called him, his mom came out from a bush with her ears up and was like NO. THAT WOULD BE MY CHILD.

Okay, then.

So, after tying up all our carrots in the trees, we found our tent site:

After assessing the cuteness factor, we decided it would be okay.

Then we went for a long walk on the beach during which I TOTALLY SOAKED MY PANTS and followed that up with a nap back in our tent.

I couldn’t quite get my mattress inflated (no, that’s not a euphemism) because the pump thing my mom gave me was somewhat faulty. So Miss-70%-Lung-Capacity blew it up the old fashioned way (also not a euphemism.)

It’s comfy.

After a nap, we headed out to grab a lovely dinner of (local) fish and chips at a restaurant that my family always goes to when we’re here. It was VERY GOOD.

We stopped to get a bit of candy, and then headed back to the magic of our tent.

Three observations from the night:

• DRUNK GIRLS ARE VERY RUDE. There was nearby posse of twenty-something co-eds that must have had one too many wine coolers,  because they were making enough noise to wake not only the dead, but Chico’s Killer Bunny Mom. Someone even told them to be quiet. They swore back. Awesome.

• Apparently, I am a bit of a spooner. Ooops.

• Catherine awoke and declared she had “much dreams.”

Overall, it was a pretty good night. And a good morning, even with ALL OUR NEIGHBOURS LOUDLY PACKING UP TO LEAVE AT 5 AM.

Or 9 am, maybe. It just felt early.

Now we’re getting set to head for the beach, but we thought we’d let you know we got here safely and get some LARGE COFFEES at a nearby place with free wifi (crap wifi, mind you, but a nice fountain:

I have to type something here to close the parentheses. Oops.)

It’s time to head out. We’ve just heard possibly the most drunk, French version of Que Sera Sera, and it’s motivating us to leave.

More later! Love to all!

And Eric — we’re on our way!

See you when the opportunities arise… keep checking back in!

Freakishly regular posting will resume September 24th. But feel free to reread everything obsessively until then… (I’d put a winky face there, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe Eric can provide one.)

Love to all. Take good care of one another! Eat lots of fruit! Be nice to your sister! Stop picking at that!

Okay, okay. Going now.

This blog has been officially live since June 8, 2006, which is when I started keepin’ stats and taking names and kicking ass.

And in that time…

• I’m now the ninth result for “Meg” on Google.com! (13 on co.uk, 7th on .ie (woohoo!), 16 on .cn (am I controversial?), 19 on .se (thanks, Liz and Sandy!), 10 on .ca, and 11 on co.au.

• Almost 40,000 page loads

• More than 30,000 visitors

• 212 posts (not including the ones I deleted!)

• 1,475 comments (not including the ones on posts I deleted)

• Countless cups of coffee

• 39,740 on Technorati (kind of low)

• 56,039 on Alexa (not bad…)

How fun is that? Thanks for reading, kids…

THANK YOU for your casting suggestions for me. HOLY COW. In my wildest DREAMS, I look like any of those people.

Darren already has my undying admiration for saying I look like Mary Louise Parker, but I can assure you — the truth is closer to like, Ed Koch.

Although I was never mayor of NYC.

I’m feeling all bubbly and encouraged now.

And hungry. Definitely hungry. When’s lunch?

Okay. HOW CUTE IS THAT.

I love basset hounds because…

a) they look depressed all the time, yet they’re not… they’re just relaxed-fit
b) half of them look broken in this picture
c) they enjoy slides
d) they have giant, floppy ears — just like me!

But basset hounds are not the point today.

The point?

INTERACTIVITY!

YAY!

It’s time to answer some questions and do some stuff! And things!

1. Tell us the name of the song that defines your mood or attitude today.
2. Tell us the last thing that totally and completely startled you.
3. Tell us a word you’d rather we not use around you.
4. Tell us who you’d like to surprise you in a Whole Foods.
5. Tell us the meaning of life (oh, hell… I thought I’d try… )
6. If I gave you $20 right now (and no, I’m not giving you $20, I need my $20, I don’t own any shoes and I need gas money), what would you spend it on?
7. Who would you like to play you in the movie of your life?
8. Who should play ME in the movie of my life (which would be dull and shown only on Cable Access)?
9. How do you feel about sushi?

I love emails.

Not forwards, mind you, but emails. Real emails, written by real people.

And not to like, eighteen people, but mostly to me.

Those are good.

Unless, of course, you’re writing to tell me that infertility means that God doesn’t think I am fit to be a mother, and that you felt you should tell me the truth.

That? Is a shitty email. Really.

Don’t ever, ever email me if that’s what you want to say.

Thanks.

For Love Thursday at Chookooloonks.

It’s always the babies with me, isn’t it?

This is a picture of me feeding the lovely Carys May (daughter of Lorelei and Orlando), about a half a lifetime ago. I mean, she WALKS now. Good grief.

Back then, she was small enough to fit in the crook of my arm.

And it’s the arms in this picture that define love for me — mine, holding her close, and hers, receiving what I have to give her, and offering so much more in return.

Crazy Decaf Man was at the coffee stand again today, occupying 99.9% of the real estate while he added things and stuff and unadulterated sass to his dinky little cup of joe.

But he must have wakened on the right side of his sensory deprivation tank this morning, because he turned and smiled at me as though to say, “I forgive you for previously violating my personal space. Thank you for standing the requisite twenty feet back while I stir.”

I was just waiting for my change, though. And after I got that, I snuggled in next to him and said, “MORNING!”

He dropped his lid and bleated like a tiny lamb.

People totally love me.

Also? Today I NAILED my baby toe on a curb. NAILED. OW. I bleated like a very LARGE lamb. Like a lamb on steroids. A bloodcurdling lamb. OW.

Now I feel all whiny. And I spilled my coffee a bit in the midst of the trauma, so I also have a stain on my skirt in the shape of Mississippi.

MEH. (That was for you, Catherine.)

And speaking of Catherine: last night we were out and about, and I was pushing the radio buttons looking for a song that wasn’t by Chamillionaire or Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance (triple echhh!). I paused on this one station where a woman who sounded like a 1-900 worker was talking about her experiences with schoolchildren in Africa.

Oy, was she creepy. I should have changed the station again, but I JUST COULDN’T LOOK AWAY.

She kept talking about all the things they DIDN’T HAVE and ALL THE PERSPECTIVE SHE GOT, all the while purring like she was about to ask for our credit card number. Ew. EW. Then she played something by Foreigner.

So this is my question: who is programming nighttime radio? And how do I get that job? Because it seems like YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.

The camp I used to direct actually bought the stuff to start a mini radio station on our island in the late 90’s. I would send various members of my programming staff to do peppy little shows while the kids were waking up or during free time in the afternoon (when they were roving about like tiny gang members looking to roll a drunk. Or, you know, do archery.) it was an easy way to add a fun soundtrack to all the day’s events.

It also came in handy for the Morning Activities I would lead, most of which involved me standing in front of 300 people and forcing them to do something excessively weird for my entertainment. Like the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy. Or a really, really long conga line made out of 220 eight year olds. Or Tai Chi to Yanni. I mean, I’d do it, too — someone has to show them how, right? — but watching the chaos was a beautiful way to begin any day.
In the evenings, when I knew (hoped) my boss wouldn’t be listening, I would do a little show of my own where I would play songs I liked and have segments like “Shoe Chat” (where I would invite a member of my staff up to talk about the shoes they were wearing) and “Book Chat” (where I would invite someone up to discuss a book we’d both read, like Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing or Sidney Sheldon’s Bloodlines.) I’d also open the lines up for requests, at which point my friend Jonathan would inevitably shove a note under the door asking me to play something by Britney Spears.

The jig was up when I gave out my cell as the Request Line, and a man in the town across the water from us called to ask that I’d play “something by Neil Diamond, or maybe Styx.” I had no idea the signal was going that far. So I put on “Sweet Caroline” and officially ended the broadcast day of After Hours With Meg before the CRTC shut my ass down.

What the hell am I talking about?

Anyway: the road trip. Our road trip!

We leave this weekend. I’ll be blogging intermittently, but certainly not at my normal rate.

We’re going down the West Coast, but sadly (Barbie!) we won’t be in the Bay Area because of our winding path to visit various friends and do some camping (and assorted other things we can’t afford, but WHY SHOULD THAT STOP US?)

HA!

I haven’t had a vacation in a million years. Seriously. I’ve never even left freakin’ North America. I figure I can justify a bit of a toodle down South.
For now, however, I am erratic, overtired, overwhelmed with all the things I need to get done before then, and caught up in figuring out all the details of life.

It’s going to be amazing, though. AMAZING. And we’re so excited. SO.

Thanks for listening.