Oh Happy Day! Some Targets allow wine drinking while shopping!

Target!  You did it again!

You read my mind!  First Chuck E Cheese serves beer, and now Target serves wine!

Click here for the story!

Wait a minute.  Do you have an ulterior motive?

Are you serving us wine so we're in a good mood?

Not yelling at our children?
Saying yes to the $80 professional Tech Deck mini skateboard ramp?
Stumbling through the dollar section and spending a mortgage payment?

If you are going to serve wine, then be prepared Target:

Make sure all the karaoke machines are out of batteries.
Hide the light sabres.


Do put out the box set of Pretty Little Liars, it will well out in an hour.

Put a box of tissues in every dressing room, especially during summer and bikini season.

Prepare for beds to be used, and chairs, and cots, and towels.

Order extra boxes of chocolate bars, potato chips and of course, ice cream.

The above items will usually come down the conveyor belt empty.

Create a lounge area out of sale furniture, it will be used that way anyway.

There will be "clean up in aisle 3" followed by "clean up in aisle 4" followed by "clean up in aisle 5"

Add extra employees, you'll find lots of abandoned shopping carts full of Massimo clothes we don't need.

Best of all, prepare for an increase in sales, because drinking and Target shopping are like being hungry and grocery shopping!

Looking for something to do? Beech Mountain Mile High Kite Festival

Oh, oh, oh!
Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite!

-song lyrics from "Let's Go Fly a Kite" from Mary Poppins.

There is nothing more fun or more relaxing, depending on how you look at it than the Mile High Kite Festival of Beech Mountain, NC.  At 5506' above sea level, Beech Mountain is the highest incorporated town east of the Rockies.  So when you fly a kite on this mountain, it is over a mile high!

Every Labor Day weekend, families enjoy the opening of The Meadows of Beech Mountain for a Kite Festival, not just  for flying kites.  The festival includes:

50 crafters and artisans for browsing.

A Kids Fun Zone with activities

Free Kites to the first 150 people

Certificates celebrating flying a Kite a Mile High (I could insert a joke in here, but choose not to)

Food, Music and of course FUN.

Richmond Air Force, Wings Across Carolina Kiting and Okra Society Kiting Clubs will have kiting demonstrations and techniques along with amazing displays.  Contest for best decorated kites and other fun activities fill the day.

Don't have a kite?  You can always purchase a kite from the vendors at the festival, or if you are the first 150, you'll get a free kite to decorate.  If you remember to stop and pickup a kite along the way, you're ensuring you don't arrive at the Meadows with nothing to fly.

I love getting there early, there are a lot of people in one place trying to fly a kite.  My sons and I setup camp along the edge of the meadows, that way there isn't too many people to run into.  Biggest thing to remember during this festival is that there are a ton of kids trying to fly a kite, and all of them will be running up and down the Meadows not sure what to do.  See it as a fun day, don't worry if your kite string gets tangled 1,432 times, or you accidentally run over the 3yr old trying their best.  Better yet, let everyone else fly their kites and sit and people watching, best free entertainment you can ask for. If you are looking for smaller crowds, try at the very beginning of the festival or towards the end.

If you tire of the festival, live music at Eastern America's Highest Bar, 5506, located at the top of Beech Mountain Ski Mountain starts at 330pm.  Food and drink are also available, but the view is what you will talk about on your drive home.

Local restaurants for a relaxing lunch include Brick Oven Pizza, Bullwinkles Pizza, Beech Alpen Inn, Fred's General Mercantile Deli, Fast Eddies, and Mile High Tavern.  Food and drink are also available at the festival.

Most hotels in the area offer lodging, there are still cabin rentals available (with discounts available), or just make a day trip out of it.  If you decide to stay the long weekend, Beech Alpen Inn offers live music on Sunday evening starting at 5pm.  Take a hike along the Emerald Outback, or sit beside Lower Pond Creek listening to the water flow.  Either way with highs in the 70's and lows in the upper 50's after our heatwave this summer, Beech Mountain is going to feel good!

So think about a day trip to fly a kite.  Get up early and plan your drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway, stop for a few sights, then head up the mountain.  You'll see the festival right away, meaning you'll see the kites right away.  Leave with a certificate celebrating your Mile High Kite journey, then plan another trip back when the leaves change.

Details for the Kite Festival are located here.

Oh, oh, oh!
Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite!

-song lyrics from "Let's Go Fly a Kite" from Mary Poppins.

WTF-Love Lessons

"What?"

Yes, that's the word that usually defines my relationship with the hubby.  Today was just another ordinary case of WTF.  Our son was invited to a birthday party of a friend in TN, of course he wanted us to take him there, but needed us to conveniently disappear because his girlfriend was there as well.  I put the address in the GPS.

339 KELWEN PRIVATE DR  (address made up so you don't stalk the poor folks)

Off we go.

It is a nice family drive of us telling the boys to look out the window of the car at all the amazing sights of TN:

Look!  There's a guy walking by the side of the highway with no shirt and his butt crack hanging out!
Look, can you believe they fit that many cars in their front yard.
Look!  Anyone want a "meat and three" for lunch?



Along with the Look! There's Bristol Motor speedway!
Look at how soft the mountains are!

What should have been a 45 minute drive turns into an hour and a half as we turn on this lonely road climbing a mountain.

Should we be climbing a mountain?  Maybe the lake is on the other side.
Wow, that's a lot of trailers, the son says nervous.
Look at all the barbed wire fence, and big dogs, the other son says.

I'm remaining calm, thinking maybe we have to go through the drug neighborhood getting to the lake on the other wide, but the GPS says, "You have arrived at your destination."

We look at the run down mobile home, fenced with dogs barking, confederate flag, old toilet sitting in a pile of garbage in the driveway.  I check the text message again,

339 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.

I look at the sign.  339 KELWEN PRIVATE DRIVE.

That's when my hubby looks at me, "Did you forget the S?"  The curtains in the mobile home move probably someone deciding if they needed the shotgun or not.

Uh.

He doesn't scream.  He quickly throws the car in reverse as one child says, "look their front door is opening" and we get out of there.  I add the "S" to the address and we are 45 minutes BEYOND where we are supposed to go.

Love means being totally pissed off with your wife's "WTF" moment, quietly driving the extra 45 minutes back to 336 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.  Sure you could cut the silence with a knife, but it was better than beating on the steering wheel and yelling.

We pull in and the group of 8 14yr olds are getting ready to go out on the boat, our son looking at us like, "You can disappear now" as he jumps in the boat putting his arm around his girlfriend.  We watch the boat pull off, the hubby saying, "Well we gave him confidence, now didn't we?"

We plan on going to Abington VA, visiting a restaurant, hiking, just killing time until the birthday party is over, but our hosts have other plans.

"Oh no.  You are not leaving. We were just making cocktails." They grab for the truck keys. I don't know these people.  But a lake, a boat, and the word cocktails, hell, I'm in. Hubby looks at me, shrugs, love means just going for it and being pleasantly surprised in the end.

We relax on the dock, then when we mention we were going someplace for lunch, they do what most Southerners do, "Oh, we'll just put you in the boat and motor over to the marina."  This is said matter of fact, there is no choice, you are going to have fun whether you want to or not.

I am reminded how couples do it together as we sit and visit with people we hadn't plan on meeting when we woke that morning.

"Honey, remember we're going to that BBQ later, don't drink a lot you don't want to peak before the party."  A new word for me as I laugh, peak.  Ha ha, I thought that meant nap time. I think back to times at the Skybar when my hubby says, "Don't forget we're supposed to go to Greg's for dinner tonight."  Oh, and I might have peaked.

"He was cutting the lawn with the zero turn mower and wanted to cut LOVE in for me, but all he got was the L.  I knew what he meant."  Sweet sentiments, I still have our wedding certificate where he got my name wrong and my age because he was nervous.

Usually in our time together, I'm caught saying, "Oh crap.  Did I screw up again?"  Love means not saying, "YES!" just quietly undoing any damage done.  Usually this entails something fun in the end.

We laugh, enjoying time on the boat, the day warm but a nice breeze makes it comfortable.  Our other son is playing in all the leftover childlike fun of a house at the lake, cleaning out a tree house, hitting golf balls, jumping off the dock.

Our host pulls out a bottle of 15 year old unfiltered bourbon, my hubby whispering to me, "That's a 425 dollar bottle of bourbon."  Opens it for a taste, we're shocked.

"Friends have been giving us this every year for staying at our home during Bristol races.  Our friends come over and we can drink it in a night, didn't know it was the good stuff.  We're used to the cheap stuff."

Wife looks at hubby, "We're not going to the BBQ now are we."  She looks at me sighing, "When you are together for a long time, it is just too tiring getting irritated with the things that used to get you irritated."  Wise words, my friend, wise words.

Love is recognizing that plans change and rather than fighting it, just going for it.  We settle tasting one of the best bourbons I've ever had, enjoying the company of two strangers now friends.

The boat comes back and all the kids get into Ultimate Frisbee, I watch my son and his girlfriend sitting on the deck, talking and holding hands.  Love is those quiet times just being together.

We stay as long as we can, telling both disappointed boys it really was time to go.  My son and girlfriend walk to our car out of sight, I know is his first kiss.  I sigh.  Love is remaining calm and happy remembering your first kiss.

On our drive home, one son exhausted from playing, the other with a slight smile on his face, my hubby driving, the Super Moon appears, I think, well, today certainly did not turn out the way I expected. We learned new things about Tennessee, Google Maps, check your addresses, what a good bourbon tastes like, and witnesses our son's first kiss!  Plan B was never so exciting.

How to properly sub your first exercise classes

I now have total respect.

Total respect.

For Fitness Instructors.

I've been taking fitness classes most of my life, in fact, I love exercising.  Getting older has made the classes more of a mandate as everything goes where it is not supposed to go.  I was asked by a friend to sub in a yoga class, then a Stretch Tone and Balance class as she is out of town.

Sure, I said, I've been taking these classes for-evah why not?  How hard can it be?

Hard.

It didn't help that I was up most of the night before the class running through the routine in my mind, almost getting out of bed making sure I knew the poses.  It didn't help that everyone, including me, was running late this morning so arriving at the yoga class with a calm and peaceful heart was not in the cards.

So I start with about 8 people running through my routine.  How can I properly screw up the class?

1.  It is hard to do yoga poses while explaining them to the class.  I have respect for the teacher that can still talk after a few sun salutations.  I sounded like a porn actress, my voice taking on a breathless quality because I was breathless!

2.  It is much harder holding the poses when people are watching you than hanging out in a class. My legs were shaking, I even caught myself holding my breath.

3.  My students were on the silver haired side, when several farted during holding the poses I tried not to laugh, then worried, am I doing too much?

I relax into it, running through all the sequences in my mind, acting like nothing was going on when a few other passes gas.  We get all the way to the end and as they are in corpse pose I realize, "Damn I never did a single child's pose during class!  No rest for anyone.  No wonder they were farting!"

The next class was working out with weights, I decided I had to look capable as an instructor and picked up 8lb weights rather than my 5lb weights.  By the end of it, I was sweating like a pig, the other women looking like they'd stepped out of the spa.  When we went to the mat to do our abdominal exercises I swear we all fell on the mat.

What did I learn out of this?

I am not too bad of a yoga instructor.  I have so much more to learn, I think this could be a new pursuit.

My arms are going to hate me after those 8lb weights for 35 minutes.

Nobody went running to management complaining that I killed them.

So maybe it was a good day.

I'll see how sore I am tomorrow.

Is He Talking to Me? Or Hello There! - Beech Mountain, NC

Either on your first trip to Beech Mountain, or your 40th year of living here, there are two types of people on the mountain.  Those who wave and those who don’t wave.  

Those who wave are a very jolly lot, they are happy to be on the mountain, in the cool summer breeze and show it by showing appreciation to everyone they see.  This starts in the car.  When driving the roads of Beech Mountain, keep your right hand free from the steering wheel because you will spend a lot of time waving back to people you do not know.  This includes the driver in the other car just being courteous, the walker by the side of the road making sure you see them to your kids chasing behind the car because you forgot them.  “We's all family on Beech Mountain," meaning we expect everyone to be courteous, that means wave.

Non wavers are usually not from the area.  If they moved here and didn’t wave after the first few weeks, someone would explain to them that waving is expected on Beech Mountain.  An elderly friend came to visit, we were driving down to the Beech Mountain Club pool, I was stunned, he was clearly violating the wave policy of the mountain.  “Why are all these people waving to me?  I don’t know any of them.” He muttered, his hands staying at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel navigating the windy roads.  “They are trying to be friendly,” I answered back, waving for him, figuring if they saw me wave the sentiment was expressed therefore we stay in good standing.  “They need to go wave to someone else.” He muttered slowly driving his 15 miles per hour.  These people usually come from the North, where everyone isn’t family in a small given area, they usually think someone waving to them means stop and pick them up so they can rob you. Usually these types gun the engine continuing on.

Another non-waver is the new driver to Beech Mountain, they are so busy trying to navigate the switchbacks while not hitting other drivers, adding in a wave is just beyond their comprehension.  I was in the car with a new driver, explaining the wave policy, his face turning white, I added, “Don’t wave, I’ll do it for you.  Just keep your hands at 10 and 2.” So if you wave to someone and they don’t wave back with that deer in the headlights look, just figure they are trying to avoid a collision with you, quite possibly saving your life.

Some wavers are very enthusiastic, one example during the summer is the senior citizen.  If you see them waving at you in a panic, don’t worry.  You can still stop and ask if they are having a heart attack, but you’ll find the reason they are waving is for you to “SLOW DOWN!”  It doesn’t matter if you are doing 20 or 8 miles per hour, it will be too fast for this poor soul walking his little dog.  Just wave back at him and move along on your merry way.

The other type of enthusiastic wavers, are the people waving that actually know you.  Believe me, the longer you stay on Beech Mountain, the more people will know about you.  It will go from the casual acquaintance to the, “I saw your red 2013 Acura with the dent on the right front panel in the parking lot of the restaurant and thought I’d come in and say hello.”  No really, they will know the car you drive, the color of the clothes you wear on the ski slopes, to the color of your yoga mat for exercise class.  If they are waving enthusiastically, just do the same because you probably do know them, you just haven’t seen them yet without their goggles.

Which brings me to the friendliness of this small mountain town, everyone is family when it comes to Beech Mountain.  One epic family story involves a local legend, who I invited over to dinner after skiing on the slopes.  I never saw him that night figuring he got a better deal until the next day he was screaming at me from the lift chair, telling me to stop and wait right there for him.  He came flying down the hill with this story:

“You’re not going to believe it.  I went over to your house last night.”

“What? I didn’t see you.”

“Hold on.  I went in took my shoes off leaving them by the door like everyone else.  I am polite like that.  I went a grabbed a beer from the fridge, sat on the sofa for the football game, cracked open the beer then looked around.  I didn’t recognize a soul.”

“What?”

“I was in the wrong house!”  He was laughing, he was still with us so no one shot him.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, they invited me to dinner.” He said matter of factly.

Of course, we’re on Beech Mountain.  “What did you do?”  I asked, incredulous.

“I stayed and ate.”

So if you want to be part of Beech Mountain family, then practice your waves.  Your prom waves, your wrestler tap outs, to simply the “I don’t know you but I’ve read here that you are supposed to wave” waves, we’re all family on the mountain and you may just get a free meal out of it.

WTF - The Silent Treatment

Trying to put in a new stove, is a lesson in carts and horses, and carrots.  I start with the trip to Lowes for appliance shopping (Insert my squeal of glee here).  I find exactly what I want, put in the order then find out I am putting the cart before the horse, holding a carrot.

"So do you have the gas installed?"
"No."
"What size is your current appliance?"
"I don't know."
The appliance guy looks at me and sighs, "You'll have to have the gas company out to survey and put in the tank.  Then measure what you have and make sure this appliance will fit.  I'll put it on hold for you."

I call the gas company, setting up my appointment.  Gas companies are like satellite network companies, the guys come out and plop the thing in the worst possible place.  When I lived in Georgia, the satellite guy came, I went to the grocery store and found the dish in the middle of my front yard for "great reception."  Later after much arguing I found out the installer was afraid of heights and didn't want to crawl onto the roof of my home.  Was this going to be a battle?  If so, It was one I was going to win.

The gas company sent out two warriors on their plan to put a propane tank as an eyesore somewhere on my property.  I, only a lone warrior myself, prepared my battle plan.  I'd watched Hercules the night before, as I saw them marching towards me in formation I silently said, "Hold the line.  Do not budge."

We introduced ourselves, then stood around in silence.  Finally, I couldn't stand it, "So, we are looking for a propane tank for a stove and a connection to the grill."

They looked at me, then at each other.  What were they thinking?  Oh, this will be fun, let's get this chick to put a tank by her front door.  Finally one said, "Let's take a walk around the property."

I envisioned holding up my shield as we walked around the property.  They stopped, "Here is a good spot for the tank, it will be easy to fill from here."

I look at the spot, right next to the house, where everyone can see it, including Beech Mountain who would cite me for eyesore and require lattice built around it.  "No, we want it back here behind the house."  I point to the area.

They both stand there looking where I pointed, not saying a word.  What are they thinking now?  I must hold the line.  Maybe it isn't the right place?  Maybe we could put it where they said, they are the experts.  No, hold the line, put it in the back.  So we all stand there for a few minutes in silence looking at the place I want the tank.  I just look with them, holding my tongue, screaming inside my head.

They walk, I follow them.  "We could go in the back yard, on a platform with the lattice around it.  That way it is off the street."

I look at them.  "Then I'll be sitting on my back porch looking at a propane tank rather than the forest.  I want it over there by the garage where no one will see it."

Silence again.  We all stand there looking into the woods.  I'm wondering what they see, what is the next battle strategy?

Without a word, we walk up on the porch, he points to where the oven line would come out, asking about the grill line.  I show him the spot where we grill.

"The grill line has to be ten feet from the structure." He says quietly.

We all stand and stare at the place I want the grill line, 9 feet 34 inches.  It is a silent battle, I think they want me to say, "Oh, OK put the grill line on the front of the house then, someplace we definitely won't use."

"We could put the grill line over here in the middle of the deck, that's ten feet away."  He says, walking over to the spot, looking at me.

I look at the spot.  That makes total sense, I have to move a 10 foot glass table and four chairs to setup the grill each time I use it.  Right.

"No, the only place we will use it is over there.  It is either there or forget about the grill connector, I'll just go with the stove."

We stand there silently looking at the spot where I want the gas line.  They look at me as if I'd lost my mind.  Why didn't I want the tank in the middle of my yard, why didn't I want the grill connector in the middle of the deck?  Was I winning the battle?

Without a another word, we walk back downstairs standing silently in front of the garage, looking at it.  I'm screaming in my head, "HOLD THE LINE!"  Don't be uncomfortable, do battle I keep repeating in my mind.

We look at each other with out a word, finally he sighs. "We could put it over there in that corner (wait! Is that the spot I originally wanted it?) where no one sees it, then run the line along the roof of the garage to the range in the kitchen.  Guess we can't do the grill line."

I see light as the heavens opens, it is the place I wanted the tank in the first place!  "Well, I think that sounds like a great idea."  I'm imagining my victory feast with turkey legs cooked on my new stove, goblets of wine, women dancing, oh wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Now joyfully calling Lowes about my new range, "I've got the propane tank setup.  When can you deliver the stove?"

The Lowes employee asks, "What size is your current stove?  Is it 30 inches?"

"No, it is 24 inches, but the gas line is setup."

"We don't cut counters or cabinets for new appliances, you'll have to find a contractor for that before we deliver."

I put my armor back on, grab my shield and the yellow pages.

Teenage Blackmail Fodder - Helmet Diving

The boys and I discussed going snorkeling while in Bermuda, we even went as far as planning the day and the time.  Then, like everything else in life, things change, and like the perfect mother I profess to be, by the advice of a bartender.

Segue - Whistler PreK (pre-kids) with the hubby.  "Honey, the bartender told me skiing the glacier is like a hard blue.  Let's do it."  Two Lifts, one jay bar then a mile hike in ski boots to the edge of a cliff.  He starts calling me a few names, so I do what any good wife would do, I just jump off the ledge leaving him cussing at the top.  By the way, he survived and later at the same bar I overheard him saying, "Yep, skied a glacier."

Should I go with the advice of a bartender again?  After all, I survived skiing the glacier.

This bartender at the Dirty Onion says, "Why go snorkeling when you can do the helmet diving."

"Helmet diving?"  I'm thinking (and dating myself here) Sea Hunt?  With the gold diving helmet, the white Speedo and Lloyd Bridges?

"Yes!  You see the fish up and close, I swear that guy is friends with the fish."

Hmm.  Given the prospect of putting a 75 lb helmet on my head, going under water looking at the reef up close and personal, I'm balking a little at the money.

Taking a picture of my teenager in that helmet and using it as blackmail for the rest of his life?

I'm in.

The boat is as old as the Sea Hunt TV show, the captain welcoming us on board, only two of them, and seven shiny gold helmets.

"Are we the only ones on the boat?"  The teenager asks horrified.

Luckily for him there are six in our group as we speed out 1 mile to the reef.  I'm signing the "If you die it is not our fault" waivers and start to worry.

I don't like close spaces

I don't like being underwater

I have felt like I was growing in several of my triathlon swims.

Will I freak out?

We all sit quietly waiting, not admitting to each other that we are nervous.

As the deckhand prepares our air hoses the teenager turns to his younger brother, "Remember when you made me mad the other day?"

The youngest nods, then watches his brother pinch the air hose.

Before we could back out, we are on the ladder, the helmet, by a handle settled on our shoulders, and we climb down the latter.  All you can hear is the bubbling of the air which I take as a good sign.  We follow the ladder to the bottom, walking over to the reef.

Do you know how hard it is to walk on the bottom of the ocean with a helmet on your head while the skirt of your bathing suit rides up to your boobs.  We all looked like drunken sailors moving in the water.

The guide knows everyone one of the fish waiting for us at the reef.  Charlie the Hogfish, Dennis the Snapper, Earl the Pufferfish.  The come right up to the window of my helmet staring at me like, "Look Earl this idiot thinks she's cool down here. Look at high her bathing suit is riding up!"  They are sniffing around us for food but our guide is the only one feeding them. When it comes time for pictures, I swear these fish pose for the camera better than Madonna.  They float by in front of us, pausing, then smiling before moving on.  It's hard because the front of the helmet makes things look larger than they seem, I am hoping that is the case with my thighs.  The guide doesn't understand me when I yell, "Just take it from the waist up!"

It is a magical experience as he points out different parts of the reef, holding up signs - rock scallop, brain coral, stinging nettles until my son pinches me and I jump about 15 feet in the air, a very slow progress underwater.  I look over to both kids laughing thinking I'll post those pictures right away, not saving them for blackmail.

The dive?  An expensive 30 minutes walking around on the bottom of the reef taking in the sights from a different perspective, everyone agreed it was the highlight of the trip.

Oh and later that night when the teenager was complaining about something?  I wondered why I didn't pinch his air hose earlier that day?

Sigh