Alpaca Sur Mer

We are in the midst of our second vacation week. Ideally, we'd have spaced them out a bit more, but we had some scheduling conflicts, so there you go. Yesterday I took a little detour, and went to visit the Bay Springs Alpaca Farm in Cape May.

You might not necessarily expect to find an alpaca farm only ten minutes from the beach, but there it is.....past a bunch of new construction, and the road turns more rural. A quick left onto a rutted lane and you are there.  It's a small farm and very informal, which adds to its charm. There are big fenced-in yards for the alpaca, with boys on the right and girls on the left.

We saw alpaca in just about every color imaginable, including some multicolors. It was pretty hot for them, and they tended to stay near the sheds (one of the owners told us there were fans inside for them).

We stopped by the shop in the back of the owners' house, and I brought home this lovely skein of alpaca made with fiber from the flock. ("Mommy, why is the weird lady in the house next door taking a picture of yarn on her front porch?")

It's super soft and I love the natural alpaca color.

We even got to see a bunny nibbling on some of the plants in the yard.

On our way out, we stopped back at the alpaca field to say good-bye when all hell broke loose. The boy alpacas were fighting, and making this chirrupping noise at each other. Then they started chasing each other around the field, trying to nip each other.

There was spitting and galloping and all sorts of alpaca mayhem.

The owners said that the male alpacas had their really sharp biting teeth removed so they couldn't hurt each other, but if they kept it up, he would turn the hose on them. Which might have been their ultimate goal, since it was so hot out.

Thus endeth our visit to the sweet little alpaca farm. It's free and a quick stop, and well worth it for lovers of our fibery camelid friends.  In just a few minutes we were back and packing up for the beach, where we had a lovely afternoon building sand castles --

and in Boy Twin's case, building himself a sand Barcalounger, customized to fit his own self. (He added a hole with a sandmold and water in it for a drink holder/cooler, too.)

Summer Vacation

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

It was family vacation.

It's an experience that has taken on a mythology all its own in our culture: sun-kissed children frolicking in the waves (or the snow, or at the themepark), loading up the station wagon (or minivan or SUV), togetherness, memories that will last a lifetime.

As with childbirth -- an experience which likewise has taken on its own mythology -- we find ourselves, when the ordeal is done, looking at photos of our adorable children and smiling wistfully.  Forgetting all the bloody, painful trauma, the hurled recriminations, the vows (made in the thick of things) to never, ever do it again.

We rented the same lovely little house we've rented for the past few years. It's close to the beach and full of charm, and even bunny-friendly.

Seduced by the idea of sun, shore and seafood, I was looking forward to the trip. I'd forgotten that familiarity breeds contempt, and after four weeks at home since school let out for the summer, my family would be both excessively familiar and excessively contemptuous with me.

Of course we had fun, but there were times when all that family togetherness seemed like too much.  (I mean, how many times in a week can two tweeners and a teen roll their eyes? Apparently in excess of five hundred.  Each.)

So next time I shall endeavor to remember the importance of going out on my own for at least one or two expeditions during the week; getting in more solo walks, whether around the neighborhood or on the beach; bringing my headphones to better tune out the exasperated chorus of "Mo-om!"

Most importantly, I shall remember that just an instant ago, they looked like this

and this

and because of all this family togetherness (or perhaps "despite all this family togetherness") family vacations are indeed some of the most special times of our lives.

Portland, ME

It's been a whirlwind few weeks, but right now, folks, I'm in a hotel room in Portland, Maine. The photo shoot for the book begins tomorrow, and an extremely talented and wonderful photographer based in Portland is doing the photographs. Since I've spent much of the past few months telling my kids "Sorry-I have to work," we decided to make this a mini-vacation for them, too. They are so excited to be out of school for a few days, even if required a long car drive.

Of course there are million last-minute things to be done. (I won't be more specific in case my editor reads this blog.) Our drive up was fine, except for some spots of traffic, and we are now settled into a hotel with an indoor pool. Portland is really fun, even though it's been raining and misty since we got here.

The weather being so meh, we took our first day to check out the unbelievable LL Bean flagship store in Freeport.

We tried to wander around the city a bit, but it was teeming rain and not a very good day for it. We're hoping for better weather tomorrow.

Test shots will begin tomorrow, and then we'll begin with some photos that don't require models. I'll keep you posted. I'm hoping to make it to at least one yarn shop before we leave, preferably the one that sells the beautiful Quince & Co. yarns.

Til then, we're enjoying exploring this lovely city, nomming seafood, and spending some family time together.

Shampoo should not smell like motor oil. Even if it is free.

We quickly settled into our hotel (I always let my dear husband make the travel plans; he picks places that I would have ruled out as way too expensive...) and between the indoor pool, the dinner-plate-sized shower head and the room service breakfast (just coffee and one bakery basket; don't want to have to dig into those college funds to pay for breakfast), the kids had the time of their lives.

I have been expounding to Tom my theory that this was a hotel designed by men for men. To wit:

• the decor is entirely in taupe and brown -- not a splash of color anywhere;
• everything is rectangular and angular -- no curves;
• mirrors everywhere (only men are conceited enough to want to watch themselves take a dump)
• coffee table book devoted to duck decoys
• proliferation of Sharpie art
  

(this is a large wall installation that cannot be anything other than a fabric panel scribbled upon with Sharpies)

• and yes, shampoo that smells like motor oil.
  

Not complaining, mind you -- it's a very, very luxurious place and we had a blast. (We have been debating whether the newfangled shower without a shower door is also male-centric, my theory being that women feel vulnerable in the shower and like an enclosed space, whereas Tom thinks that Janet Leigh's shower door didn't do her much good.)

I have not been to Washington, D.C. since the early 90s, when I was sent here for some kind of document review back in my lawyer days. It's really fun to see the city through fresh eyes, and through the eyes of my kids.

Day 1 (which was only a half-day after driving and checking in and having lunch) was a trip to one end of the Mall to enjoy the sunshine and see some of the monuments:







The above two shots are the relatively new (2004?) World War II monument. We were a little skeptical of it until we got to it and walked around. By the time we'd read the very moving quotations from that time, seen the battlefield names carved into stone, and looked at the friezes showing the struggles faced by ordinary Americans,



we decided we quite liked it. That is Rosie the Riveter above; yes, I did earnestly search the friezes to see if there were any women knitting socks or helmet liners, but alas, this did not seem to be included anywhere. (I mean, really, is the Charleston more culturally significant to the war effort than knitting? I think not.)

I found the Vietnam War Memorial especially moving. It's interesting to think about how controversial the memorial was considered initially, and how integral a part of the Mall it feels now. Seeing each name etched in the dark wall is incredibly solemn, and seeing other people around you experience it, like the man taking a rubbing here
made me nearly blubber out loud.





Our second day began at the Air & Space Museum





but it was very, very crowded and probably a little too old for the twins. They were more excited about the McDonald's in the museum (sigh):



We then walked the Mall some more, heading toward the Capitol:

and made an unexpected detour into the Botanical Garden that was off to the side near the Capitol. Miss Thang enjoyed posing (here, she is vogueing in the cactus room):





More swimming and a delicious dinner of Thai food helped us recharge.

Today was our last day. We headed over to the Smithsonian again, to the American History Museum. The twins lasted for a while, long enough to see some of the cultural treasures, like the adorable dollhouse:


Kermit the Frog:




and the ruby slippers from the Wizard of Oz, and the Seinfeld puffy shirt, and of course the Steven Colbert portrait:

We circled back to see the White House

(although, sadly, there was no Obama sighting), and then, after our drive home, we were reunited with The Bun:


All in all, a memorable and enjoyable trip, although we are all glad to be home.