Back in Estados Unidos!

Hola, amigos! We're back after a fun-filled week in Buenos Aires. We're busy re-bonding with our pug and recovering from travel, but I wanted to check in and give you a brief photo preview of blogs to come. The trip was great. In 10 words, it was Argentine beef, wine, buses, waterfalls, tango, walking, laughter and language barriers. And empanadas. Ok, that's 11.

The largest, cheapest and tastiest kebab ever.


Shopping for wine in a foreign market


First-class buses for 20-hour rides. Meals. Foot rests. Leg support. Fully reclining. No other way to travel.


Iguazu Falls
"Poor little Niagara!"


Beautiful architecture and buildings. Just don't get too distracted lest you step in dog doo. No poo pickup rules in BA.

Best Friends at the Beach

July 6. Beach. Notice the long sleeves, jeans, and general appearance of cold. This is Northern California.


We took Marti to the beach for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It was maybe one of the least relaxing "should be relaxing" type of events. Pugs were allowed, but not off leash, so I had to maintain constance vigilance to make sure Marti didn't jump in the ocean, terrorize small children or eat sand and seaweed. I wasn't able to stop the ingestion of sand. She probably ate a cup of the stuff.

Love. This.

My little words can't do this video justice, so you just have to watch it. It made me smile for four and a half minutes straight.



This four and a half minutes shows how vastly huge the world is. We're all so different. And we're all the same.

Read more about it it at www.wherethehellismatt.com. (It also views more clearly on this site.)

Death Threats from Old People

A woman who lives at the assisted living facility on our street routinely tries to enlist me in plotting her escape. She comes out to the patio and asks me for help, and on a handful of occasions she has tapped on the windows to get my attention. I can read her lips. She wants out.

The other day I was out with Marti, waiting for Alan to join me when “Silvia” started doing slow laps around the patio.

Lap 1
Silvia: “Help me….they’re trying to kill me.”
Me: I’m sure no one’s trying to kill you. Say hi to Marti!

Lap 2
Silvia: “Help me….They’re all crazy.”
Me: Can’t argue with that. Look, Marti’s eating a stick!

Lap 3
Silvia: “Help me…take me home.”
Me: More Marti jabber.

By lap 4, Alan was outside with me and I warned him to be prepared. She asked me to take her home and I told her that I couldn’t do anything to help, and she said, “No, you sure can’t,” almost sarcastically, like I was withholding help to spite her.

Alan was a little nervous, and I’ll admit that being around people with dementia isn’t easy. But as I’m always over there with Marti, I’m more used to it. As we headed back home, I hear, “I hope he kills you.” Now, I could be wrong. Silvia was on the far end of her lap, but seeing as how she had already mentioned people trying to kill her, I’m almost positive I’m not putting words in her mouth.

So, Sherlock Holmes that I am, I finally looked up the facility and confirmed that they cater to those with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It made me feel a little better about the death-murder wish upon me. I just pray that if my mind ever goes, my body quickly follows.

Staying and Going

Thanks to everyone who weighed in on the tough decision Alan and I were facing last week. Good arguments were made, points raised, support given, both in comment form and via email. And while the vote is swayed 53% in favor of moving, Alan and I are going to defy you all and stay. If I'd given you the detail that it was an additional $400 a month would that have made a difference? I'll never know (unless you comment, and by all means, have at it).

Had that apartment not opened up, we wouldn't have given staying here another year a second thought. And it would be one thing if the increase was going to ourselves, in say, a mortgage, but it's another ball of wax because it's basically money down the drain. A drain that goes directly into the landlord's pockets. So, alas, we stay. And we're a little tight and cramped, and hot on some days. But we're also able to go to Vegas and Tahoe and Phoenix on a whim, so we think the tradeoff is worth it. I'd rather travel than have that extra closet anyway. Until another 100-degree day hits and then I'll be cursing my ineptitude. (I also let weather.com have it the other day with a feedback form for their inability to get the current temperature within 14 degrees. I can understand not being able to predict the future, but it's inexcusable if you can't tell me what it's doing now.)

So now that the big decision is made, it's on to thinking about the future, which includes a trip to Buenos Aires! Alan and I will be heading down to Argentina in late July to visit Alan's man-wife Joel, who is currently gallivanting around the great continent to our south. We'll allegedly be meeting him in BA where he will help us make sure we don't order intestines for dinner (or gain our trust and then steer us toward them...).

To make a long blog longer, Alan and I prepared for our trip to the foreign land today by being responsible travelers and getting our proper immunizations. We had to get yellow fever and Hepatitis A shots, and since I can't remember the last time I had any sort of shot, I went ahead and did MMR and tetanus.

Alan went first. Blue steel, he wasn't afraid.



You can tell that this one might have stung a little. Darn tetanus.



Smiling through the pain.



And this one actually did sting a bit, but I played it up for the camera.



I think you can be sure that you married the right person if you have a blast going to the travel clinic to get shot four times in the arm.

To move or not to move...

Alan and I have a dilemma. Another apartment has opened up and we're considering moving. Problem is, we can't make up our freaking minds. So you can help!

Pros
1) It's a 2BR, first floor apartment. Two whole bedrooms and a much bigger living room. Ooooh.

2) Hardwood floors. YUM!

3) It's much cooler (temperature-wise). My current "office" bakes in the afternoon sun. A cooler first-floor apartment opposite this one would mean no Erins going crazy when it hits 100 degrees. I haven't blogged about nearly losing my mind during last month's two-day heat wave because I'm just NOT READY TO TALK ABOUT IT, OK??

4) There is a patio! We could have plants, animals, hammocks, grills.

5) No burping or "other noises" from our neighbor.

6) Ground level, easier for groceries and laundry!

7) No cat/Marti face-offs. No dead mice to trip on in the mornings.

8) Storage in bathroom! Real live counter space in bathroom!

9) The "move" is literally across the driveway. I can see the apartment from here. Sigh (of love).

Cons
1) More money. Our apartment now is dirt cheap (ok, for our area anyway) and the other one is a significant chunk of change more per month. But, had we found it a year ago at this price, we would have been crying tears of joy because it was still on the low end of what we expected to pay out here.

2) Hassle of moving our stuff.

3) Hassle of changing an address and utilities.

4) The kitchen is a little smaller. What we gain in bathroom counter space we lose in kitchen counter. However we do have a place where we could put a table for extra counter space.

5) More space, more junk, more expenditures.

6) The unknown. What if the next neighbor is worse with his burping and "other" noises? What if he loves to jump rope at 2 a.m.?

7) Wallpaper in bathroom is floral. And kinda not awesome.

8) No bookshelves or built-in cubbies in the bedroom. But there are two closets in the "master."

9) We kinda feel guilty because the landlord would give us cheaper rent than other potential renters that offered $100 more and a pet fee...and I feel bad that this dog family might not get the apartment...but our landlord was hesitant about a big dog anyway...GUILT.

10) We'll probably only be at this location for another year, regardless of where "we" land on our next adventure.

See? So many pros! So many cons! Vote. And feel free to comment. Or email. And do not answer C. This is serious, people.

Should we move?

• Yes. In the words of Nike, just do it.
• No. Not worth the time/effort/money.
• Seriously? You're resorting to a blog poll?

Created on Jun 11, 2008

View Results

more at twiigs.com...

That's Dedication

I’m always in bed a couple to a few hours ahead of Alan. I’ll wake up to midnight snacks being made in which I swear he uses every pot, pan, blender and noise-making appliance to whip up a simple hot dog. And there will be the occasional political rant as he comes to bed. But some nights Alan takes disturbing my sleep to new levels. The other night he came in and I could have sworn he was a 5-year-old. He was tossing and turning and moving Marti around and giggling and telling her secrets. Then there was a complaint that I had too many pillows, so I threw a pillow at him hoping he would JUST SHUT UP ALREADY.

So I was down a pillow and trying to fall back into a blissful rest, but something was keeping me awake. In my semi-dreaming sleep, I knew something was different. A smell. A weird medicinal Ben-Gay smell. I open my eyes and Alan has his finger as close to my nose as possible, thinking it’s the most hilarious thing ever to wake me up with Ben-Gay. Super pissed at this point, I roll the other direction to get as far from his annoying self as possible.

The next day I’d forgotten about the smelling salts incident. He reminded me of his comedic genius and then said how he needed to put more Ben-Gay on his finger. Now, B-G has its uses. It serves a good purpose for sore muscles. And while Alan has been working out, I was pretty sure he wasn’t doing finger exercises at the gym. And then Alan pretend-strummed a guitar. Ah. Ah-ha. Alan has become a victim of Guitar Hero finger.

He is very dedicated. Look at the focus.



But maybe, just maybe, he should give his poor fingers a break.