Lost in the Swamps: Part 3

Part two of Lost in the Swamps left us standing on the threshold of our hotel room; tired, cold and hungry. Sounds like a typical family vacation, doesn’t it?

Once the 12 year old check-in girl used an actual metal key to open our door, we were so happy we could have cried in fact I think some of us may just have shed tears.

Sir D was the first in the room, (don’t think him too unchivalrous, he was holding the cooler full of heavy food). He paused about 3 feet in the door, just behind check-in girl and says “What’s that horrible smell? We asked for a Non smoking room?”

The poor overwhelmed 12 year old check-in girl replied sheepishly “This is a non smoking room.”

Sir D replied that he was pretty sure that stench was the smell of smoke, and further more, smoke from something that was not legal in all states save California.

It was bad my friends. It was as if Pepe Le Pu had hosted a little party in there with his aromatic friends and they had been doing a little smoking of the not-quite-legal variety.

“We can’t sleep in here.” Sir D states calmly and matter of factly to the check in girl. All I can think is; O Heavenly Day, we’re going to die of starvation in Houston!

“Do you have any other rooms?” Sir D asks.

“Well, this was our last non smoking room; I can show you the two smoking rooms we have left.” Sir D just stared at her.

“I am not sure you can keep referring to this room as a Non Smoking room.” He states. She smiles. They chuckle.

“HAY! I AM WAISTING AWAY HERE! AND THE CHILDREN ARE ALREADY ON DEATHS DOOR! CAN WE NOT STAND AROUND AND CHUCKLE?” My brain screamed, but since I had been praying all the way from Galveston for the Lord to put a guard on my tongue, it did not actually make it out of my mouth.

Sir D took one look at me (because perhaps I whimpered instead of letting those words out) and sent us ALL back to the van. He and the check-in girl were going to go check out the other rooms and see if any of them smelled less like a skunk party.

On my way down the stairs, Sir D stopped me and told me to eat some of the peanut butter crackers.

Once I got in the car I tried to remember when the last time I had eaten was. I was having trouble. The brain was a little foggy. I recall eating a late breakfast at about 10am right before we left the beach house. I recall drinking lots of diet coke and bottled water. I recall throwing food at my offspring all day; but I could not recall actually ingesting any of it myself. Hummm, perhaps I am experiencing low blood sugar. This would explain my lack of ability to deal with life in general and my inability to think straight, and my incredible need for a bed at 8:30pm.

I grabbed some peanut butter crackers and ate them myself this time.

Feeling slightly more alert, I was somewhat prepared for what Sir D had to say when he got in the car. I could tell by the look on his face that the news was not good.

Apparently the skunk party had used several rooms; all of them were the only ones left. Odd coincidence don’t you think?

We got in the van again, only this time we had no real destination. We spent the day in the van driving, driving, driving, but at least we had a destination, a place to aim. We are now without hope, without direction. We are all going to die in Houston. (Yeah, the peanut butter cracker did not help as much as I had hoped.)

Sir D drove closer to the Space Station so we could find a hotel. Even thought the 12 year old check-in girl said we’d have better luck finding a hotel on the moon since it was Spring break, Sir D was undaunted. It was not so much that he really wanted to go the Space Center tomorrow as he did not want to drive the 4 hours it would take to get home, tonight.

He pulled up to the Motel 6 that was just down the street from the Space Center. I did not believe they would have a room, and anyway…eeeeewwwww! It’s a Motel 6 on Spring Break.

Of course, they did have a room. The check in lady (this time she was over 12) gave Sir D the keys to all three of the available rooms and we got to go check them out ourselves. We pick the best of the three.

It was not great but at this point, who cared? We stuck our stuff in the hotel and Sir D said we were going to eat at the Chinese buffet the check in lady had told him about since it was now 9:30 and I think he knew I was beyond preparing even a ham sandwich at that point. (I’m bet he’s re thinking the cost of those snacks in the gas station right about now)

We ate. Ann did not have an allergic reaction which was a huge blessing. We did ask the manager to point out what had no dairy but let’s just say there was a bit of a language barrier. She ate mostly fresh fruit and meat.

We got back to the hotel room, spent an eternity taking turns with the single sink and potty. And finally, blessedly, we got into bed. I think the floor would have been more comfortable, but surely I’m tired enough that it won’t matter.

Turns out, all that diet Coke was not a good idea.

I laid in that yucky bed (thought we had brought our own sheets and blankets so I wasn’t totally grossed out) and thought of all the news shows I’d seen about bed bugs, and drug resistant staff bacteria, and all the other things they find in hotel rooms. I listened to Sir D snore like a train. I listen to Eve flop all over (I’ll never understand how she can move so much in her sleep.

Then I listened to the people upstairs walk, and walk, and walk. Good grief, were they training for a marathon? Then they finally settled down and got in bed. The noises I started hearing then I am unable to describe as this is a G rated blog. I was just glad my kids were sleeping soundly.

We did survive, we did sleep, we did get to eat, and we did not die in Houston. We even managed to get to the Space Center and have a fairly good time the next day.

However, I don’t think I can ever return to Houston. I think Houston simply holds to many bad memories. I get twitchy just thinking about it.

And I want you to know, I boiled those sheets…twice.

Lost in the Swamp: Part 2

In the last episode of Lost in the Swamps (Anyone else hearing those guys from the Muppets saying “LOST…IN…SPACE! when I say that?) we were, interestingly enough, lost in the swamps. Well not so much lost as we knew exactly where we were, we were just not where we wanted to be.

The sun is hanging low in the horizon when we finally reach the outskirts of Houston, coming in from the East side. (Remember, Galveston Island is south of Houston, yet we entered Houston from the East, we’re real bright like that) The kids are still hungry and plotting mutiny as we pull into a gas station. The Mother Ship needed refueling.

I went in with our children who sang the Halleluiah Chorus when their feet stepped out onto the land. Because I am a good and kind mom I offered to buy them a snack in the gas station. I knew that it would be a while before we got to the hotel and could eat the picnic we had packed for our lunch-that-never-happened. Once we all went potty and had picked out our snacks Sir D came into the gas station. He told the kids to put back their snacks, we’re almost there and he didn’t want to pay for snacks when we had a cooler full of food in the car that we can eat as soon as we get there. Clearly, Sir D lives in his own optimistic world of time.

I put the disgruntled children back in the Mother Ship, threw more apples and peanut butter crackers at them and we headed off.

Keep in mind, it is now rush hour. Which in Houston is anywhere from 3pm-8pm as it turns out. We drove our way, ever so slowly, through Houston and found the Space Center. YIPPEE! We know where we need to be…tomorrow!

We know that the non-smoking hotel room we booked is only 5 or so miles away from the Space Center. It seems, whoever measured the distance from the Space Center to the hotel, does not use standard American measurements and must inhabit his own world of distance. I do believe it was 15 miles and we did them all going approximately 5 miles per hour.

At long and merry last, we found the hotel. I believe it is 8:30pm. We have been in the van for a sweet forever and we just want some stinking food!

We go check in and the lady gives us our keys, or the stupid plastic, credit card things that pass for keys these days. We head up the THREE flights of stairs (that are outside the building because it is a classy place and all) all with our belongings for the night and the blessed cooler. It is now quite chilly since the sun has gone down and the wind has picked up and we are all dressed in shorts and t-shirts, but we are almost there, we are on the threshold, dinner and a bed are right on the other side of that door.

Oh, Lord have mercy on us all…the key will not work on the door. Sir D tried it. I tired it. Even the boys tried it. NO Workie! Sir D sent Bob back down to the front desk which, if it were any further away from where we were, would have been in another hotel, to get the check-in girl.

Bob comes back up the three flights of stairs sans the check-in girl. He says the check-in girl said to hold the door just so, put in the card, turn the knob, pull the card out, do the hokey pokey and turn yourself about, and viola! The door will open.

If you’ve read this far I think you know that didn’t work.

Sir D, who is trying really hard to hold it together and be happy and optimistic and all ‘WE’RE ON VACATION! IT’LL ALL BE OKAY! DON’T WORRY, BE HAPPY!’ is starting to show cracks in has happy armor.

I however finished pretending there was anything remotely fun and vacation like about this day, and am just ready to go home.

I said to Sir D, that if we get in the car now we can be home in 4 hours. I’ll help drive. I just want to go home. Houston is hell and I don’t want to be here anymore. I do believe there may have been some sniffling and lower lip protrusion.

Sir D, who is no longer feigning glee replies, “We have made it this far. We are on the 1 yard line. The rest of our vacation is on the other side of that door and we are not giving up now!”

Because he thinks those sports analogies always work, he grabbed the keys from Bob and headed back to find the check-in girl.

I sat on the steps and wept. (not really, but I felt like it)

Back comes Sir D with the Check-in girl. She holds the door just so, puts in the card, turns the knob, pulls the card out, does the hokey pokey and turns herself about, and the door does not open. (I have to say that was some real vindication right there.)

She pulls out her master key, puts it in the lock, turns, and like magic, the door blessedly opens. My bed! I can see it! Praise the Lord and pass the cooler! But wait, not so fast…what is that horrible odor?

My friends, I am sad to say our day did not end there, we were not as it turned out, at the one yard line. There were literally miles to go before I slept.
Tune in tomorrow.

Lost in the Swamps!

Today I will tell you about our trip from our beach house near Galveston to our hotel in Houston. What is there to tell, it is only a 30 minute trip? You might ask. You have obviously not met Sir D.

You know that stereotype about men not asking for directions? Yeah, very much NOT my husband. Sir D is all about asking the locals. Mostly it works out well for us. Anytime we’re in a new place he’ll stop and ask a local where the best place to eat/shop/get gas or whatever is, and we get the good info. He’s been known to stop at a Biker Bar and ask the Harley riders out front where the next gas station is. I have to say that was the friendliest bunch of scary looking people I’ve ever seen.

Sometimes, however, like our ill conceived trip to Houston, it backfires.

Here’s the story. We wanted to take the kids on the ferry. The ferry goes from Galveston Island to the Bolivar Peninsula. From there you can continue driving on to Louisiana, or you can turn back and go back over the same ferry again and then take the bridge back to the mainland, which takes you to Houston in approximately 30 to 45 minutes depending on traffic. Or you can drive ALL THE WAY around the bay or inlet or whatever they call it, back to Houston. Sir D had heard, from a local, that there was another ferry crossing the bay that we could take so we wouldn’t have to drive all the way around the bay.

Turns out…notsomuch true.

We drove all the way up the Bolivar Peninsula, until we were within about 30 miles of Louisiana. For those of you not familiar with the area, that is directly the WRONG WAY as we wanted to go to Houston, which I may have mentioned was THE OTHER WAY.

So we drove and drove and drove and finally headed north. We stopped in to visit the gas station (as it was the only building around) in Smith Point where the lovely local informed Sir D that he’d gone just a teensy bit out of his way and it was going to take him ‘quite a little while’ to get to Houston from here. And I do believe there was some snickering when Sir D put forth the question about a second ferry. Who would ride this imaginary ferry? The two inhabitants of Smith Point?

We now know our fate, and we commence to driving; a bit faster than I am comfortable in a 12 passenger van on very narrow and bumpy old roads.

I want to pause in the telling of this story to point out our surroundings for you to fully understand the urgency that has come upon Sir D. I felt like I had suddenly been transported back home to Kansas; field after field as far as the eye can see.

Then a cove of trees, then more fields. But I noticed something funny; strange birds floating on the fields. Odd. How do they do that? Oh, wait. I then realize these are not fields at all, but swamps! Truly!



I saw a man in his front yard in a boat! It looked, at first glance, like his boat is gliding on the grass in his front yard. Upon closer inspection I realize that his front yard is a green swamp just like the above photo!

I am thinking that if we open the door of our van, the mosquitoes will swoop down and carry us off like the monkeys in the Wizard of Oz. No WAY am I opening those doors, I don’t care how much my offspring says they have to go potty!

So there we are, driving in the middle of swampy no where. The kids are starving because instead of feeding them the picnic lunch like we planed, we just kept throwing peanut butter crackers, apples and bottled water at them all afternoon. The sun is beginning to set, the kids are hungry again and we’re 1000 miles from nowhere to borrow a phrase from the great Dwight Yoakam. Not exactly what we planned for our day.

It gets better folks! Tune in tomorrow for the continuing saga of Lost in the Swamps!

Books and Birthdays!

My sister’s birthday was yesterday. I ordered her this book series. I have read this book series and it is very good. It is what I like to call creepy-clean.

I am admitting, here in this public forum, that I occasionally like a psycho killer book. Please don’t think me deranged (at least not because of what I read when there are so many other examples to choose from) but they must be clean. I can’t stand cursing or gore or, well, other weird stuff you find in non clean psycho killer books.

Back to my sisters birthday. I thought to myself that if I ordered them used, I could afford to order all 4 books in the series and have them sent directly to her house for half the price. Brilliant!

So that is what I did. She is my sister after-all. Sisters can buy each other used books! Really!

Know what I forgot to do when I ordered them? Yep, I forgot to have them shipped to HER HOUSE! I am paying to have them shipped to my house, and then I am going to pay to have them shipped again to my sister’s house.

Some days my level of idiocy astounds even me.

The Day the Sea Vomited Jellyfish.

When we first got to the beach on Sunday, you will remember that we immediately ran out in the surf and stuck our feet in the ocean. What was quite shocking though is how little beach there was to run on.

Two years ago when we were there we would go across the dunes on a cute little wooden bridge, and then run the 30 to 40 yards to get to the water. Not so this time. This time we crossed the bridge and ran the 3 to 5 FEET it took to get to the ocean.



The ocean, it was angry that day. This photo does not really do it justice. There was wind and foam and spray and huge waves, all things one definitely does not expect to see in the Gulf of Mexico, at least not along the Texas coastline.

After we got settled in the beach house we grabbed our beach paraphernalia and headed across the beach.

We had no where to set up except the dunes, so that is where we put our chairs. I got comfy, or as comfy as one can get while sitting on sand dunes in 40 mph winds with sea spray in my face, and it was COLD by the way. The kids immediately ran into the ocean in their swimsuits, because if you’re under 18 you do not feel the cold.

There Sir D and I are, happy as clams watching our offspring enjoy the beauty that is God’s creation when I began to notice something strange in the dunes after the sea foam dissipated. Something blue and jelly like. No, it was not a pan of blueberry jello someone dumped into the ocean as someone who is defiantly not me might have originally thought.



It was a jellyfish. Or, more accurately, many, many jellyfish. And upon further inspection of the dunes, we realized that not only where there jellyfish of the blue variety, but we had some larger, transparent ones in the dunes as well.



The sea was vomiting jellyfish. The same sea that my beloved children were currently frolicking in. Hummm, Perhaps frolicking in jellyfish laden surf was unwise, nay even reckless.

I suggested to Sir D that perhaps we should get our offspring to come out of the dangerous water. Sir D, who was raised in the jungles of New Guinea, thought that would spoil their fun. I, who was raised in mid America, thought a Jellyfish sting would spoil their fun. Sir D won.

Because the Lord is in his Heaven and apparently it was not my children’s day to get stung, they managed to dodge jellyfish, and have a great time.

I have decided that from the moment children are born. The child and the father conspire together to find ways to live recklessly and shorten everyone’s life expectancy. The only reason anyone lives beyond the teen years is because of mothers.

Forget Mothers Day, I think we need a mothers week!

He is Risen! He is Risen, Indeed!

Christ Arose!

Low in the grave He lay, Jesus my Savior,
Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o'er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Vainly they watch His bed, Jesus my Savior;
Vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord!


Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o'er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o'er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Busy, Busy, Dreadfully Busy...

Today Sir D and Ann went to the big orange place that takes all of our money in the name of home improvement.

They began checking out with lots of lots of ivy to plant in the places where we have been unable to grow grass in the 5 years we have lived here. (we are a stupid persistent people).

Sir D looked down at Ann, our beloved baby, the last born. He lovingly said to her. “You want to help daddy plant Ivy, sweetheart?”

“Well, Daddy, I’m quite busy today. I have a lot of things on my schedule, but I guess I can help you if you really need me.”

Several people who were in line stopped to look at my little Ann, and they snickered.

Where’d my baby go?

These lyrics were going through my head when I Sir D told me this.

I’m busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You’ve no idea what I have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.

Nothing like your own bed!

I went to bed last night at 10pm. I got up this morning at 10am. For those of you not too savvy with the numbers, that is 12 hours of sleep.

I told you I was tired.

Here are some photos of the sun coming up that Bob took for me. Bob knows the chances of me seeing the sun come up are slim to none, especially on vacation.






We stayed up too many nights talking with Sir D's brother and his wife about very important and world changing things, like if you really do pee on a jellyfish sting.

One night we stayed up till 2 am. We almost had the whole Palestinian/Israeli thing worked out, but we decided we'd better get to bed.

Monday I'll tell of 'The Day the Sea Vomited Jellyfish.' Until then, enjoy your Easter!

Back From the Sea!

We are home.

I am tired, and I am sunburned as one would expect after a week at the beach, but I feel great!

What a wonderful vacation!

Galveston is a great place except that you have to drive through hell Houston to get there. hell Houston takes an inordinantly LONG TIME to drive through.

This is the first thing I did when I got out of the car.

Then I made my kids to it for this photo, because I just think feet in the sand is the coolest thing.

Look at these great kids!


This was the first day; before jellyfish, sunburns, too many sweet and not enough sleep; back when they still liked each other.

Oh, I have tales for you. Tales of the sea. But first...must...rest.

Tomorrow the BEACH!!!

But first I must get up at the horrible hour of 5 (yeah, did you know 5 happens twice a day? Me neither!) and cage all of my children into the car that is packed so full that you’d think we’re driving to Montana instead of Galveston (which is, consequently, in the same state we live in).

I have packed, sorted, cleaned, checked, double checked and triple checked. Then loaded some more.

Now I am going to bed. Whatever I forgot we’ll just have to live without. I’m not too worried about it. We’ll pass a minimum of 10 or 250 Wal-Marts between here and there; we can always buy something if we need it.

So things will be quiet here on the Hilltop for a week. Have a good spring break!

Sand and sun, here I come!