Oy with the poodles!

Ok, I’ll admit my “Gilmore Girls” obsession is borderline unhealthy these days, ( except it’s not.. the show is therapeutic, soothing, and magical) and I’ll credit the algorithm that is aware of this, flooding my feed daily with long forgotten reels.

I’m reliving every dreamy detail, from the time I first discovered it ( on ABC Family one summer.. I didn’t watch its initial run on the WB) to hearing the uplifting troubadour music with a daily ear worm.

I’ll never forget my trip to Los Angeles in 2019, when our travel agent booked a backstage tour of Warner Bros. Studio for us, and my unparalleled joy seeing a GG poster before our tram departed.

Little did I know how much was in store.. that the tram would actually stop in Stars Hollow! That I’d stand in the gazebo ( it was daytime, so there were no twinkling lights) and I’d actually walk through Lorelei and Rory’s home and actually feel their presence. It was surreal!

Because of the sudden influx of these reels, I’ve been quoting a lot of Lorelai-isms, especially her favorite, “ oy with the poodles”

And I was today years old before I suddenly realized… all the important poodles in my life have a Gilmore connection that wasn’t consciously apparent when it came to picking out names!

Our first poodle, Max, was whelped six years before the show aired, but Lorelai’s boyfriend and Rory’s Chilton teacher was.. Max Medina!!

And then of course, her longtime beau and eventual husband.. LUKE!

Who’s just as adorable and cranky and loyal as my little guy.

But that’s not all!

My brother’s family were the first relatives who welcomed three of this wonderful breed into their lives.

First there was Gigi ( Rory’s half sister’s name!) and then Lulu, the name of Kirk’s eccentric girlfriend. Their newest addition is Coco, and I just remembered that was the name ( spelled “ Cocoa” but pronounced the same) that was originally given to Paul Anka, the dog adopted by Lorelai to heal her broken heart after the estrangement from Rory.

There’s a Max! There’s a Luke! There’s a Gigi, Lulu, and Coco(a)!!

Oy with the poodles!!

So exciting to see all the media coverage to honor the 25th anniversary of the series, and Lauren Graham’s recent acquisition of a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

( now if only someone could invent a Time Machine that would wake up those Emmy voters who failed to give her what she so richly deserved)

I’m so glad that I got to talk to a cast member just last month while I’m still in this all consuming phase of GG nostalgia, even one who played a villain.

Thank you, Amy Sherman Palladino, for all the light in these dark days.

Where you lead, I will follow.

Jamaican flip flop

All my bags are packed.. I’m ready to go.

What a fantastic little romantic getaway… just what the doctor ordered.. for everyone in the country.

Last night’s dinner falls into the category of “be careful what you order.”

The restaurant had a lively, happy hour for hours vibe that we were both digging.

The server was as sweet as Mary Poppins, as all the people we’ve encountered seem to be.

Not only were we not charged for the stolen towels, we were given warm fluffy ones to replace them.. an amenity we could have had all week had we just spoken up instead of complaining about in this stupid blog which I thank you all for reading.

I get so distracted.

Oh yeah.. our meal started with delicious chicken tortilla soup that we shared, and ended with the fresh key lime pie cup, our first dessert that wasn’t ice cream.

Because I’m not adventurous enough to think outside the lobster trap and order seafood or fish I don’t actually hate, like crab cakes, I ordered a mediocre burger with fries that were barely touched.

Jim got a grouper sandwich, Jamaican style, which tasted, he claimed, like the flip flops he wore on our honeymoon in Montego Bay nearly thirty six years ago. It was so gelatinous and repulsive that he actually sent a photo to Chat GBT to get their opinion, instead of sending it back for fear of offending Mary Poppins.

“It’s fine,” he said, because he’s polite and from Ohio”

“ nothing beats this microwaved buffalo snot” he said to me, because it doesn’t matter if he has the manners of a mid westerner around someone he accidentally shared a toothbrush with all week.

(They were both pink.)

We look out the window and see the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle, and I’m thinking the hospitalty in this resort is so amazing that they just sensed that Jim and his grouper sandwich were never going to be best friends.

Turns out the flashing lights were due to a literal flasher.

I usually ignore heavily intoxicated men, especially if they’re smoking cigarettes on a crowded street, but curiousity got the best of me, so I asked the less creepy intoxicated man about why there were so many emergency vehicles on this street of stores that sell sunglasses and bar revelers singing Jimmy Buffett songs.

“ seems some guy had to much to drink and exposed himself,” said the guy who had too much to drink as he blew cigarette smoke into Jim’s nauseated face. “ you don’t mess with that shit here in Florida. Not in THIS county, anyway.”

He continues.

“My son was down here a few years ago and he had too much to drink too. But he didn’t expose himself, no madam.. he did not. He just went into a diabetic coma but they take care of you if you drink too much in this here part of Florida.”

“Oh yeah?? Do they “take care” of you when your husband is too polite to send back a plate of slime?”

Going home to dry towels, an incontinent poodle with vision problems, and a very full DVR.

See you next trip!

The people you meet in the ocean!!

The people you meet in the ocean!!

Are sometimes even more fascinating than the fish, diving birds, and ice cream sundae peddlers.

I started talking to a handsome, well tanned man with cool sunglasses , nursing a beer, tattoos glistening in the sun, the type of guy you’d never expect me to strike up conversation with, but there we were, a few hours later, with his childhood friend, Daryl from Massachusetts, and my Jim, joining in to enjoy the rays and the waves and swapping of life stories.

Kenny owns a home in nearby Venice, but told us this particular beach in Siesta Key was the nicest in the vicinity.

He’s a police officer from DC, on the scene for many mind blowing events, including an amusing one about an escaped bear invading an urban neighborhood, and some more covered ones, like being actually on the scene during January 6th.

Political talk was kept to a minimum, but he was very civil and very intelligent. He shared stories about Iraq and being in the Air Force in Italy, and we were captivated. He referred to himself as a moderate and that became abundantly clear early on.

His friend Daryl joined us shortly after, beer in hand, and the stimulating conversation continued, from the three guys talking fantasy football league, to a recommendation, from them, of where to have our last dinner here, Siesta Key Oyster Bar.

(Aka SKOB.. we walked by the sign earlier and thought it was some kind of urban slang acronym)

Turns out the buddies have wives and young kids at home, so naturally I talked all about how they HAD to visit the number one family resort in America, my Woodloch Pines.

They’re going to love it and we’re going to love the ambience in the place they recommended.

It’s weird.. your parents drum into you your whole lives not to talk to strangers, and I want to respond, “ but strangers aren’t boring! They don’t talk about bullshit that nobody in their right mind would talk about.. I didn’t care then, don’t care now, and won’t care ever about your experience trying to return tea towels to Target.”

Strangers don’t do that.

Strangers make you happy.

Until you get to know them.

Meanwhile, we’re totally water logged and wrinkly, but we really could use Kenny the Cop now .. because somebody stole our beach towels!!

They’ve been accumulating our body sweat and dirt all week.. who the hell would want them??

Mine reeks of Ever Pure Shampoo for chemically treated hair and blood pressure meds.

All I know is we had better not be charged for them!!

The shack-y, bungalow-y place we’ve called home the last few nights has been fun, despite the lack of space for wet and/or dry clothes, and the ceiling/ shower brain worms nicknamed Bobby and Cheryl, and the fact that housekeeping is only available upon request, but we should not be responsible for towels that house our body sweat and anger.

I’m eating healthier these days.. tortilla soup and a small salad with blackened baby shrimp and red onions and these cheesy croutons that were as good as crack, but I’ll get back to my routine by Monday, sadly.

I guess that’s means, as far as clean eating goes, it’s time to throw in the towel.. if I can find it!!

Salle de bain

It’s another beautiful day, but we opted for chaise lounges by the pool this morning instead of the ocean, which we’ll get to after lunch.

I love the ocean, and I love the fact the you don’t have to deal with shells and seaweed and undertows here, but the bottom is never smooth, even when you’re neck high, which means your feet feel like they’re walking on over ripened half cantaloupes.

Jim is barking in French now, practicing his Duo Lingo, but he also says he doesn’t want to ever go back to Club Med because of all the rain in Cancun in 2023,so WTF?? ( why the French)

He’s going to get ravenously hungry any minute so let me tell you what just happened while sitting here by the pool.

I couldn’t find the restroom.. not even a sign for it.. and there’s no way I was going to use the hot tub or walk six feet back to our room.

I ask one family but they said they just arrived here and had no idea where it is.

Then I asked a brown skinned guy in a sombrero who obviously works here because he was painting a fence but all he kept saying was “ no English!”

Over and over again.

And you don’t even want to know what I pantomimed to communicate better, but it didn’t matter because he just took his paintbrush and ran away from me.

So I finally find the restroom, switch on the light, sit down, and burst out laughing, because there was a sign.. advertising that the specialty at the Tiki Bar, was rice and beans, and also, Brussels sprouts, and a bunch of cocktails with names that were so hysterical that I was lucky I was seated on a toilet.

I’m laughing like a hyena when I get back to Jim and the Just Arrived Dad told me he found the bathroom, but by this point I was giggling too hard to ask if the men’s bathroom advertised things like Brussels sprouts on the wall next to the hand dryer.

Chicken and Waffles

I finally ordered the chicken and waffles because,after being here a total of seventy two hours, I am officially southern and may order something called “gator “ if we decide we want ice cream from something other than a floating truck later today.

Not even here three full days, and I’m telling the women from New Jersey on a girls’ getaway weekend exactly what to do any where to go, like I personally authored Fodor’s Guide Books.

I stab my chicken and waffles as I spoke to the Jersey girls and noticed the woman next to their table was opening up the lid to her stroller and hand feeding her baby sausage and scrambled eggs, which I thought was quite odd, but then I look and see the baby, named “Renter” was actually a chihuahua mixed breed, with better table manners than most people I know.

Why is the phrase, “swimming with the fishes” a bad thing? I enjoyed them thoroughly, and wondered if one if ‘em was going to order a “Fudgy the Whale” when the ice cream truck floated again today.

Give me a break.. that’s my first forced joke of this vacation, and I bet some of you goofballs laughed despite yourselves.

Of course I wanted the afternoon to revolve around frolicking, and it did.

Jim and I spent a good part of the day doing what we did when we first fell in love while vacationing in Maine: we played word games in the waves.

It’s more fun than you’d think.. and I was winning when we did the “Name That Tune” portion, where we had to name songs with girls names in them, alphabetically, and I choked on an X.

Don’t read anything into that.. do YOU know a song with a girl’s name starting with an X? Or any girl’s name with that letter, even not in a song?

Water was delightful as usual, until I got spooked by a manatee that turned out to be my shadow.

Also, Jim schlepped on the sand to a pizza joint that ran out of pizza.

He’s very patient and waited a half hour for a mediocre slice, but then again, he rehabilitated not one but two inch worms ( I nicknamed them Bobby and Cheryl because I’m obnoxious) from our shower and ceiling fan, so he’s got a LOT of patience.

Life’s a beach indeed

We met Joni M at the Cottage

We synched our Kindles to the latest caper from Carl Hiaasen ( when in Rome) and we’re now listening to the soulful sounds of Sarah somebody, who is serenading us with the best of Joni Mitchell and Carole King.

In a garden setting!

Jim said his ahi blackened tuna was absolutely scrumptious, and I thoroughly enjoyed the tender and perfectly seasoned short ribs.

And that’s not even mentioning our frolicking in that crystal clear water today, with shimmering waves and diving birds and floating ice cream trucks serving ice cream floats.

Ignore me next time I gripe about petty nonsense.. this is a wonderful beach getaway. Jim picks the very best, doesn’t he?

Flying objects

Day Two/Three

Pay no attention to that almost septuagenarian in the floppy white hat and the unshaven legs: she wanted a beach vacation and that’s exactly what she’s getting.

I will longer refer to myself in the third person.

Three’s a crowd.

Ignore me when I bitch that there’s no room for your stuff.

I mean, there still isn’t.. it’s not like a bunch of contractors broke in overnight and installed adequate shelving, but I’ve learned to improvise.

Like, a shelf that could hold no more than an upright James Michener novel could now hold my shirts and shorts if I triple fold them.

I have to get over my shelf and enjoy nature.

Nature means sitting on this beautiful beach, walking on cool sand made of quartz , watching as our ten dollar umbrella nearly impaled two separate sets of beach goers.

I came here for the calm, beautiful water, filled with minnows and graceful birds who make the most amazing sounds when they panic dive.

It’s like looking through a kaleidoscope of blues, the reason we came here.

The town is so beachy and shabby chic that I’ve coined a new adjective to describe it: “ shacky.”

It is very shack-y and that’s a good thing.

Everywhere you walk, you see brightly colored shacks, bustling with coffee drinkers and fit people having egg white omelettes next to heavily waxed surfboards.

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely love the sound of a beachy breakfast joint, where you hear the clatter of porcelain plates and glassware and cutlery, with menus that serve things you want to eat but won’t, like freshly made apple fritters.

The fritters are warm ( I’m guessing)and the servers are warmer, even when they’re complaining about the family that occupied the table before you did, and the negligent parents who let their kids doodle butterflies with sharpies.

You see a bird stealing a corner of an omelette that the busboy hadn’t cleared yet, and you say to your husband, “which came first? The bird or the egg?”

We ate breakfast at a place called “Another Broken Egg” and yep, I’m gonna go there.. it’s everything it’s cracked up to be.

Jim is preoccupied with the flying fish and the flying umbrella, I’m wondering who besides me, notices I didn’t shave very well, but after all that is said and done, I’m glad we’re here.

Omg!! Literally, an ice cream truck is floating in the ocean, making its way towards a hot and thirsty crowd! And people are lining up for fudgicles and.. I’m betting.. ice cream floats!!

Sara soda

I Sara sorta like it??

I think, maybe?

Maybe not???

You know me on day one of vacation, especially since this is technically day two, because we had to cancel yesterday’s flight because of the “Nor’ Easter,” which is Jersey talk for “barely noticeable sprinkling,” but yeah, it’s technically Day One, so I’m nothing but complaints.

We’re actual in Siesta Key, not Sarasota, and I feel like I shouldn’t be with Jimmy Amster. This town is calling for Jimmy Buffet, or my hall pass, Kimmel.

The flight was smooth but I don’t understand why my brand spanking new turquoise luggage looks like someone gave it a mud bath on the carousel, or why my laminated ID tag is MIA.

We landed in Tampa, a 60+ mile Uber ride from the airport.

The further we drove the redder it got.

I actually felt like I was driving through blood.

We arrived to what will be our home for the next four nights, the Siesta Beach resort and hotel.

It’s beachy, but so am I.

They initially tried to put us in a room directly inside the tiki bar.

They might call it outside the tiki bar, but trust me, it was inside the tiki bar, or might as well have been.

The tiki bar… where Floridians go to show off their tattoos and drink and laugh about absolute nonsense.

This is Florida, so we could’ve lived with that.

What we couldn’t live with is a room the size of a shoebox.

I’ve been on inside cabins on cruises that were three times the size.

There was no chair, no desk, no storage space, and no fucking way I was staying there.

For $60 more, we were upgraded to a room so close to the pool that it might as well be IN the pool, but at least there’s enough lounge chairs so I have place to store all my clothes.

We meet Dan and Patty from Central Florida by way of Wisconsin.

Dan says things like “the Gulf of America” and follows it with “there. I said it !”

This is their fifth time vacationing here, and they warned us about the claustrophobia and the lack of a nightlife for non-drinkers.

Every place you walk, you hear somebody playing “Margaritaville“ but I kinda like it.

Hey, it already beats the jersey shore, where it was the summer of shark sightings and drowning deaths from riptides, so I’ll take this.

I overheard someone from North Dakota talking in the pool, probably to her mother, probably who somebody Frances McDormand would play in the movie.

1. “ we still have to drive to Orlando for tattoos!”

2. “ I’m using the absolute fuck out of this sunscreen!”

3. “ the ocean here is nice, but the fish are crazy and they launch themselves onto you and I have no idea why“

We’ve only been here three hours, and I’m still trying to decide if there is enough shelf space to hold a Bic pen.

Our Mexican dinner tonight was very brown. Brown decor, brown chips, brown sauces, brown clothing.

I would’ve been OK with this if there wasn’t a big sign on the pool saying “no diarrhea“

Remember, this is still technically my Day One.

I will do a lot less complaining tomorrow.

Assuming I will not be kidnapped by aliens overnight, so tabloid tv could get their “only in Florida” lead story.

Ama-zoned out

Ok Amazon.. what’s up?? We sent a sweet little baby gift, a little lamb, to one of Evan’s friends that just had a baby girl. Well.. apparently the tracker/router device is very confused!! This wouldn’t happen with Santa Claus! A two week old little princess just got a twelve pack of my high energy chocolate protein shakes delivered to her home. Next thing you know she’s getting Luke’s chew sticks. This glitch had better get fixed before that innocent little girl gets a box full of unmentionables…