Which Witch is Which (and other Salem findings)

October 14, 2008 By

Our Halloween celebrations are in full swing and I am lovin’ life these days. It could be the cooler temperatures or the fun decorations. Or maybe it’s the parties, costume parades or the abundance of pumpkins for this pumpkin-obsessed family. And not to be forgotten is the emergence of my ghost salad tongs.

What? Like your mom doesn’t send you salad tongs for every season.

As aforementioned, Jamie and I went to Boston for one of the world’s largest pumpkin weigh-offs at The Topsfield Fair. He was as giddy as a kid in a candy storea grown man freaking out over big pumpkins.

And I’m not talking about the female variety.
I admittedly don’t have room to talk. I relished being in a region that celebrates fall and Halloween. Where every other house was decorated, pumpkins were revered and where Salem’s witch population provides for great entertainment.

Just so long as you stay on their good side.

Jamie and I stayed at Fox Pond B&Bin Marblehead, a quaint coastal town outside of Salem. Our first night, we really wanted some fresh seafood so upon the recommendation of the B&B’s owner we ate at The Barnacle, a cozy seafood haunt on the water. I am not much of a seafood lover but make the exception “When in Rome” and resolved to try some shrimp or lobster.

Until I was told that pumpkin ravioli with butternut squash cream sauce was the daily special. And how was it?

Think deli scene from When Harry Met Sally.

But really, the must-see destination for any Halloween lover was Salem. There was a profusion of fall colors, oodles of tacky tourists vying to see the sundry of witch museums and best of all, witches. Or at least folks dressed up as them.

More than 40,000 people descend upon Salem in October. My only goal was to buy something that I could display every year so I could profess we bought it from The Witch Capital of the World.

Easier said than done.

I dragged Jamie to all the tacky tourist stores and I was tempted by their wares but never swayed.

Until I saw IT. The bain to my wenchy…errr…witchy existence: a witch’s hat with flowing tendrils. It was like the Sorting Hat on Harry Potter. From the moment I put it on, it knew me and I knew we had been separated at birth.

Unfortunately, Jamie was not in agreement. Much to his chagrin, I insisted upon wearing The Hat the rest of the day and he had his own coping mechanisms for our new addition.

“Why are you not walking with me?” I accused.
“I am walking with you. It’s just far away.”

And so it is in the life of a witch.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: holidays, Humor, Jamie, pumpkins, travel Tagged With:

Mr. Lord of the Gourds Visits the Super Bowl of Pumpkin Weigh-offs

October 7, 2008 By

I love Boston.

If I could transport the Rocky Mountains to Massachusetts, I would move there tomorrow. Well, except that I cannot spell M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U- S-E-T-T-S without the help of spell-check.

Jamie and I just returned from Boston and everything about the area resonated with me: the ocean, the rocky crags, the explosion of trees, the locals who can’t say their Rs…all of it was so endearing and I wonder why it has taken me this long to visit.

My new obsession is vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket or Cape Code. If you have a vacation home on any of those islands, I will gladly take it off your hands for a week this summer.

Because I am generous like that.

For those just tuning in, I gave Jamie a trip to the Topsfield Fair for Father’s Day. This community outside of Boston hosts the oldest agricultural fair in the country (190 years old) and if you need a description, just think the Super Bowl.

But with really big, orange balls.


I could make fun of them all but do you know what? I got a kick out of the whole event. These people have giant pumpkin growing down to a science and watching Jamie meet his Pumpkin Idols was akin to watching Hadley score her first goal in soccer.

Should it ever happen.

When we first walked into the arena, the weigh-off was already underway. Jamie has been in correspondence with many of the growers on Bigpumpkins.com, a forum where guys talk about [what else?] pumpkins and the women who love them. Or hate them. It depends on the day.

Jamie was looking for one man in particular and walked up to a group to seek him out. One guy turned around and recognition struck Jamie like a smashing pumpkin: it was his idol Joe Justras who holds the world record for his 1,689-pound pumpkin. Loving wife that I am, I insisted they pose for a picture together.

Though it saddens me this will probably replace the family portrait in our living room.

Jamie spent the rest of the morning watching the weigh-off and meeting various pumpkin growers. They come from all walks of life: farmers, dentists, manufacturing engineers, mortgage brokers, and even the Mafia. Yes, you heard correctly. One man who is allegedly “cut from the same cloth as the Sopranos” showed up with his pumpkin a half hour after the entry deadline.

Funny how they still let him compete.

I thought I had seen everything until I stumbled upon this couple:


They seemed legit but I have learned the biggest con artists are those you least expect. And finding scalpers at a giant pumpkin weigh-off is certainly not expected.

The world record will likely be bested next weekend by Steve Connolly, whom we met at Topsfield. Even though Jamie and I were casual observers, we were still deemed noteworthy and were interviewed for the local newspaper.

I expect The New York Times to contact us any day for the follow-up.

========================================================

Tune in next time as we journey to Salem, the land of the witches, and find out how we relived one of When Harry Met Sally’s more memorable moments.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, outdoors, pumpkins, travel

To Yellowstone…and Beyond!

August 14, 2008 By

In honor of my Western movie lovin’ Grandpa Wilde, I shall dedicate this post about our vacation unto one of his favorite films: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The Good: Staying at our brother-in-law’s cabin in Island Park on the Snake River. Paddling the children to get huckleberry ice cream at Henry’s Fork Landing in our inflatable kayaks.

The Bad: The 7-mile hike to Fairy Falls in Yellowstone pushing the children in the Chariot (which performed marvelously as opposed to our Canadian travails). Then carrying the Chariot over the marsh. Then lugging the children…and the Chariot those final miles.

The Ugly: The revelation that your husband bears an unsettling resemblance to a buffalo in Jackson, WY.

The Good: Watching the kids marvel at Old Faithful, finding a hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint and a fantastic playmill theatre in West Yellowstone.

The Bad: Wandering around West Yellowstone searching for stye medicine.

The Ugly: Finishing Breaking Dawn, only to accuse Hunky Hubby of no longer giving me the kind of vampire love that Edward gives Bella. This spurred his amorous attack that resulted in a bloody and swollen lip. Evidently, human love bites.

The Good: Visiting one of my dearest friends, Jason in Rexburg and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Chuckling at the fruits of his bachelorhood, which consisted of five dirt bikes in his garage.

The Bad: Hadley getting a scratch on her foot and becoming inconsolable for the rest of the visit.

The Ugly: Attempting to take this picture.

The Good: Hiking mind-numbingly beautiful Jenny Lake outside of Jackson. Without the Chariot but with Sherpa Uncle Chris.

The Bad: This conversation whilst driving through Island Park–

Jamie: Better keep your eye out for some Monopolies going across the road!
Me: Huh?
Jamie: That sign. It said “Game Crossing.”

The Ugly: Missing the pinnacle event of the whole trip while I was back at the cabin with napping Bode. My MIL Linda walked across the dock and she lost her balance. And then time was suspended as this woman–the very epitome of class and grace–landed face-first, spread eagle in the river. Her humiliation was rewarded by her insolent children who were on the ground in hysterics.

I only wish I had been there to show this great matriarch of our family the respect that she deserved.

You know. By taking pictures.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel

To Utah…and Beyond!

August 12, 2008 By

I have officially overdosed on travel. Well, at least until the next trip (which fortunately for me is at least five days away).

Truth be told, I was tired of traveling after my back-to-back Canada and San Francisco fiascoes, only to have to hop in the car a week later and take a huge chunk out of the Western United States.

So, how was it? Exhausting and fun, with an emphasis on the former. And how did the children do after 35+ hours in the car? Amazingly well. Rest assured, the majority of tantrums were thrown by me.

Leg 1 of the trip was a stop in Utah a few days early with the kids and my MIL. I have not been back to Salt Lake City for a few years and I was overwhelmed with love for this great city and my many wonderful memories.

The itinerary? Played in Seven Canyons Fountain with Lori and Co.

Solo hiked Albian Basin at dawn, hung out at Snowbird’s Cliff Spa with former roommmate Kristy (a.k.a. She Who Inspired Me to Start a Blog) and took in the resort’s Rock and Blues Festival.

Admired the crimson sunsets over the Great Salt Lake every night.

Splashed around in Parley’s Creek at Sugar House Park, my old haunting ground.

And last but certainly not least: gorged on The Dodo’s turkey sandwich with secret BBQ sauce (I am a recovering addict) and Cafe Rio’s chicken taco salad. Is The Love of a Salad a good enough reason to move back? Because if it is, I am there.

We stayed with Jamie’s uncle who is the publisher of the city’s newspaper. He and his wife were gracious hosts but picking up after my freeloadin’ children in their museum-of-a-mansion was more upkeep than I am used to in a day year.

But something was unsettling to me. I knew their rug was strangely familiar.


And I just couldn’t place where I had seen something similar….

Until I arrived home.


Join me next time for To Yellowstone…and Beyond and additional confirmation that I am a true blonde.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Humor, travel

Blasting at BlogHer ’08–Part I

July 22, 2008 By

BlogHer was a blast. I will not do a long, drawn-out synopsis because frankly, most of you don’t care that I bought bacon mints in Chinatown and then made unsuspecting BlogHers sample them while I snapped pictures of their reaction.

Or do you?

(Victims Roommates Michelle from Scribbit and Jill from Glossyveneer; my other victim roommate Loralee has some great shots on her blog, too.)

My experience was completely different from last year, mainly because I went with more reasonable expectations and I did not try to conquer the world by befriending everyone and getting caught up in the junior high cliques. I met some fantastic gals, made some quality networking contacts, saw San Francisco and played. A lot.

While I didn’t get much out of the sessions (except for the travel writing meet-up), the overall conference experience was great. Some highlights:

    • I met The Grover. Sesame Street was at BlogHer and I taped a 1-minute segment with the furry monster, wishing Bode a happy birthday. We have already watched it about 50 times and I am sure he will treasure the DVD forever. Or it will serve as a reminder of how mommy tried to suck up for missing his birthday in the first place.

    • Exploring Chinatown, followed by dinner with Michelle and Jill at B44, an ultra-cool restaurant tucked away in a quaint alley called Beldon Place. After surveying the menu I queried “What is oxtail? Some kind of fish?” only to have Michelle reply: “I believe it is an ox’s tail.” Who knew?

    • Skipping out Saturday afternoon and riding the trolley down to Pier 39 with fellow Canuck Kerry. I then skipped out of the closing reception at Macy’s and had a heart-to-heart with Jill at Lori’s Diner. Evidently I have a propensity for skipping. At least that’s what my high school teachers wrote on my report card.

    In my next edition of BlogHer ’08: my sexual orientation is put into question and a round-up of all the fantastic gals that I met.


    P.S. And yes, I am straddling a dragon but that has nothing to do with the aforementioned “orientation in question.”

    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Humor, travel Tagged With:

    Chaos Ensues as Johnson and Children Are Grounded in Canada an Extra Day

    July 21, 2008 By
    **PRESS RELEASE**

    (Calgary, AB Canada, July 21, 2008) — Amber Johnson made a failed attempt to fly solo with her two children back to Colorado last week and spent an extra day recovering at her parent’s home in Calgary.

    “I thought the flight to Calgary was bad enough,” Johnson grimaced. “I mean, it was such a headache when they lost Bode’s reservation and we then got stuck in the plane on the runway for hours on end. I thought it could not get worse.”

    Sadly for this mother of two, it did. Johnson showed up at the Calgary airport with Hadley (age 4) and Bode (age 2). All went smoothly with check-in and security, after which time Johnson set the children loose to play in the terminal’s play area.

    What happened next will go down in the record books as the worst luck ever experienced at an airport within a week. “It was boarding time and we leisurely made our way back to our gate,” Johnson said. “That is when they told me a bird hit the windshield of our plane, causing it to divert and land in another city. Our flight was canceled indefinitely.”

    Johnson says instead of rebooking their flight, Canadian law required them to go back through Canadian customs, retrieve all their luggage, drag it across the airport, battle all the other passengers trying to find another flight at United’s check-in and then go through the entire process of U.S. Customs and security again. All this with the #%&#* Chariot stroller in tow.

    Johnson did not make it past check-in. “All the flights out were booked that day,” Johnson blubbered. “We managed to get a flight the next morning at the crack of dawn which, in some weird twist of fate, my parents were on as well because they were flying through Denver to visit my brother in New Jersey. At least I had a support system the second time around.”

    When asked if she would ever fly solo again with the children, Johnson turned pale, exhaled deeply and replied, “No comment.”

    Oh, and if you are ever tempted to proclaim, “It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” in Johnson’s presence?

    Please don’t.

    ###

    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Canada, Family travel, Favorite Posts, Humor, travel

    The Real[ist] Family Travel Writer is Born

    July 14, 2008 By

    I have always loved to travel. The problem is, travel has not always loved me. I once journeyed to France for a wedding, only to get lost and miss the entire celebration.

    I built a career as a travel writer by writing a humor column about my mishaps. During a meeting with my editor, I made reference to one of my misfortunes on the trail and he professed, “You mean this stuff really happens? I thought you were making it up because there is no way all that could happen to one person!”

    Welcome to my life.

    When I had a family, there were understandably even more challenges. My recent solo trip home with my children confirmed it: I am the Real[ist] Family Travel Writer. While so many writers expound upon their tried and true tips for “The Perfect Family Vacation,” I keep it real. Family travel is about survival. The only two things that keep me sane are my sense of humor and a huge dose of denial. Maybe Prozac would help, too.

    And so as the Real[ist] Family Travel Writer, here are some insights I gleaned from my trip that I summed up as follows to my husband: “Hell is assuredly an easier commute than flying solo to Canada with two young children.”

    Case study #1

    I hate DIA (Denver International Airport). This trip had some new doozies: baggage problems with “easy” check-in that forced me to wait 20 minutes for an agent; an online reservation that never reserved my son Bode’s ticket as a lap child and resulted in even more delays; those many hours we were stuck in the plane on the runway because Denver’s drought chose to end during that three-hour window and the floodgates were opened.

    REAL[IST] TRAVEL WRITING TIP: BUILD AN ARK. IT WILL GET YOU WHERE YOU ARE GOING FASTER THAN DIA EVER WILL.

    Case study #2

    I took a big risk this trip and brought my double-wide Chariot jogging/biking stroller instead of my stream-lined Graco. Navigating The Beast was tough enough at the airport but I faced a whole new set of problems in Calgary. Do you know that adage “What comes up must come down?” Evidently, this does not ring true at Calgary’s C-Train station as my dad and I tried to board the train to go downtown to the Stampede. We scaled the huge ramp up to the ticket station, only to discover there was not a ramp going down to the platform. Huh?

    After carrying The Beast down two flights of stairs, it would not fit through the doors. I thought that was the end of it until we tried to board the train and we ran into the same problem. We kicked the kids out and tried to cram it in sideways. Nothing. We finally had to disassemble the #%&*# stroller completely and catch the next sardine-packed train where my poor dad had to stand crammed up against the wall to keep all the parts in place.

    The most ironic thing of all? The Chariot is made in Canada and it does not fit through their standard-sized door.

    REAL[IST] TRAVEL WRITING TIP: DO NOT TAKE DOUBLE-WIDE STROLLERS TO CALGARY BECAUSE EVIDENTLY PEOPLE ARE SKINNIER THERE AND ALL THEIR DOORS ARE ON A PERPETUAL DIET.

    So, why do it? As a recent New York Times headline put it, “Sure it’s frustrating and expensive, but travelers just have to travel.” The article went on to say that many people consider leisure travel to be essential, not discretionary.

    My “essentials” included seeing my children play with my parents in my childhood home, holding my Great Niece for the first time, cookouts under the stars, a daytrip to the Canadian Rockies, lazy afternoons at the lake and hanging out with a longtime friend on my parent’s deck under a canopy of lilac bushes and stars. And yes, even going for walks with that #%#& stroller along my beloved Fish Creek Park trail. These make up for all the ulcers.

    Mind you, my return flight to Colorado is tomorrow and next month my husband, children and I are braving the 13-hour journey to Yellowstone.

    Suddenly, that Prozac is sounding better and better….

    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Canada, Family travel, Humor, travel

    Inquiring Minds Want to Know: Did Amber Survive Her Flight?

    July 9, 2008 By

    My experience was best summarized by my opening statement during my telephone conversation with Jamie.

    “Hell is assuredly an easier commute than flying solo to Canada with two young children.”
    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Family travel, Humor, travel

    One mommy blogger’s [humorous? painful?] path to a nervous breakdown

    July 8, 2008 By

    There has been a morbid fascination with my exposé of our failed camping trip (read Camping, Crying and Capsizing here). While overall we had a great time with our friends, I left out the sordid details of Bode’s near-fatal (for me, not him) bout with diarrhea for two reasons:

    1) If you do not yet have children and want them, I did not want to permanently traumatize you into abstinence.

    2) Likewise for those who do not like poop stories because this was the motherlode of crap.

    About 2/3 of the way through our 2.5-hour drive, Bode developed diarrhea that exploded out his diaper, congregating in a delicious pool of poop that saturated his car seat and then oozed onto our leather seats below. So while Jamie and Bode were down for a long summer’s nap at the campground, the rest of my afternoon went like this:

    • Beckoned Tina’s husband Mark to help me remove the car seat. And wisely so because he got a handful of crap during the process.
    • Went to the laundry room and with great difficulty, removed the car seat’s cover for the first time. Was delighted to find three year’s worth of Cheerios and Nutrigrain Bars marinating in poop.
    • Rinsed the cover off, threw it in the washer and bought a small box of Tide. Anticipated a nice plastic bag inside so ruthlessly tore open the box. Detergent spewed all over the laundry room. Barely had enough money for the load so was reduced to sweeping Tide up off the filthy floor with my hands.
    • Ran the load and then scrubbed the car seat in the huge sink. Realized there was no way the straps would dry by morning.
    • Went to adjacent bathroom, hoping to find paper towels but they only had blow dryers. Sat drying my car seat, completing ticking off a woman who had just gotten out of the shower. Felt like telling her, “”You have straight, thin hair. Rejoice in it. It’ll be dry in minutes” but instead gave her a “You are camping–why are you showering anyway” look.
    • Car seat mostly dry. Made my way back to put the cover in the dryer but realized I was out of money. Scrubbed my hands from the stench but opted out of drying them because I just spent 20 minutes under the blow dryer.
    • Inserted dollar bill in machine. It was rejected due to my wet hands.
    • Dried dollar bill under blow dryer. Continued to receive evil looks from thin-haired woman.
    • Went back to laundry room. Drama almost over. Tossed the car seat cover in dryer, closed, inserted money. Water started. Wait–WATER? Realized I had mistakenly put it in a front-loading washing machine that was the spitting image of a dryer. A washing machine with an iron-clad lock on it.
    • Sat through ANOTHER wash cycle, went back to campsite. Sent Hunky Hubby back to deal with the dryer.
    • Poor Hunky Hubby was up all night with diarrhea. The outhouse never smelled so good.
    • Vowed to never go camping with children again. At least not when they have diarrhea.
    • The End.

    ==================================================

    As you are reading this, I am flying to Canada. Alone. With the children. Will there be a return of The Diarrhea of Death?

    Pray for me, people. Pray for me. And pray for those on our flight. :-)

    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel

    Camping, Capsizing and Crying (all in a weekend at play)

    July 7, 2008 By

    As backpackers, my husband Jamie and I are minimalists. We pack the bare essentials because we know we will be the ones hauling them into the backcountry.

    We had also taken the same approach with car camping…until we saw the light during last weekend’s camping trip to Eleven Mile State Park, a venue that came highly recommended in Family Fun magazine and a rocky, barren venue that I would never recommend in a thousand years. Or in the eleven hundred miles it seemed to take to get us there.

    Our friends Tina and Mark are Pack Everything Including the Kitchen Sink kind of campers. There is nothing wrong with this unless you are camping with them and your rations suddenly seem woefully inadequate and you find yourselves begging them to please share just a bite of their pancake, sausage and bacon breakfast to spare you the trauma of your Frosted Flakes without milk.

    In addition to having a tent trailer that was stocked to the hilt, they also brought their canoe, a ton of toys, games, bubble whistles, glow-in-the-dark necklaces and a visit from the bead fairy who helped them make bracelets.

    My contribution? Paper plates. A lot of them.

    Oh, and both of my boys brought diarrhea. A lot of it. But I will spare you the joy of how I spent my afternoon in the park’s laundry room cleaning the pool of poop that had saturated Bode’s carseat during the drive. Jamie’s rendition of Said Illness did not hit until 11 p.m. and he had a grand ol’ time darting in and out of the tent all night and relieving himself in the outhouse.

    Because those things don’t smell disgusting enough.

    Our first day was windy and cold, which forced us to hunker down in Tina and Mark’s camper. Day two dawned glorious and calm so Mark announced that we would take the kids canoeing and issued a decree for anyone who wanted to come?!

    Tina bowed out. She is afraid of tipping over in the canoe. Woosy.

    Jamie was still nauseated from his all-night puke and poopfest. Woosy.

    So I ponied up. Mark and I sailed across the water with Hadley and his son Nolan. All was going smoothly until we approached the shoreline and three motorboats departed at the same time. Three motorboats vs. one little canoe.

    I will spare you the details. Actually, I don’t really remember them. All I can recollect is my end of the canoe was the first to tip and the rest soon followed. Hadley and Nolan screamed hysterically. Mark and I laughed in the same manner.

    Ever the loving, concerned friend, Tina was quick to react by barking out orders from the shore:

    “I’ll get the towels and Jamie, YOU TAKE THE PICTURES!”

    Just not with my camera because it was in my pocket at the time. And for those who are wondering: no, it was (as in past tense) not waterproof.

    Hadley speaks of the incident as if she had one foot in the grave. She was so freaked out that family therapy sessions are assuredly in her future.

    Rest assured, I will bring the paper plates for that occasion, too.

    Later edited: By popular demand One mommy blogger’s [humorous? painful?] path to a nervous breakdown.

    Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

    © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
    Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel
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