Juno Beach

I just got back from a mother-daugther trip to Florida. I went with my mom, family friend Gail and her daughter Adrienne, both whom I've known my whole life. My family owns a condo in Juno Beach, which is about 20 minutes north of West Palm Beach. I actually lived there for a summer my junior year of college while I interned at a newspaper.

It was about five days of serene relaxation. We sat by the pool/beach every day all day, went out to dinner then came back to the condo to drink and play games. I was in bed before midnight every night and up by 8 a.m. It was awesome.

But of course it wasn't without its hijinks. Here are some highlights.

*Having a nice buzz getting on the airplane in Chicago
*Discovering our plane had individual TVs for each seat. I played trivia with the rest of the plane and watched "Barefoot Contessa."
*Carrying my huge and heavy duffel bag through the Atlanta airport. On my shoulder at one point. My mom stole my usual carry-on bag and, I am a woman, so I had a lot of stuff to bring. I checked it on the way home. However, I only brought six pairs of shoes.
*Walking into The Breakers Hotel - the swankiest hotel on Palm Beach - and being CONVINCED Mickey Rourke was sitting next to us. Turns out it was just a greasy Russian.
*My mom stealing nice towels from The Breakers bathroom. We chastised her but they came in handy when we were cleaning up the condo and wanted to wash all the hand towels.
*Captain Bob, our tour guide on our boat trip on the intercoastal. He had a story for every mansion on the waterway. Very informative and I highly recommend it.
*Trying to explain Catchphrase to my mom and Gail. You would've thought we were explaining how to reprogram a nuclear bomb. Instead, they wanted to play Liverpool Rummy: a game they not only didn't remember the rules to but is much more complicated than Catchphrase.
*Gail hustling everybody in Yahtzee. Who gets three Yahtzees in one game?
*Me getting sun poisoning on the third day. This doesn't happen every vacation but it's happened before. I get a very itchy rash on random parts of my body. This time it was my chest and my legs. I promptly put myself indoors and napped and shopped the rest of the day.
*Watching the cougars at The Waterway Cafe. It's a cute restaurant right on the boat waterway. Boats dock and people have dinner or drinks. It was FILLED with women in their late 30s, early 40s chasing after men wearing polo shirts tucked into Bermuda shorts with loafers. Men in their late 60s, early 70s.
*Reading and finishing the book "Flash Forward." IT's the novel the new TV show is based on. Everybody passes out for about 90 seconds and sees their life 20 years in the future. I highly recommend it. Robert J. Sawyer is the author.
*The waiter at Kee Grill who was ready to cut us off after we ordered our third bottle of wine. We told him we were walking, not driving, and it was game on.
*Me being CONVINCED Janice Dickinson was sitting next to me on the flight home. I literally had to rationalize it to myself. OK, it's coach. Janice probably wouldn't sit in coach. And she's in the middle seat. Talk about the worst place in coach. And she has a wedding ring. I don't think Janice is married. But I wouldn't give it up. She got up to go to the bathroom and I told my mom and she said, "No way." Finally she spoke and it wasn't that raspy Top Model voice I'm used to. Cut to me and my mom walking through the airport. She points out a woman and goes "Now THAT looks like Janice Dickinson." Yeah: same woman sitting next to me on the plane.

Gettin' my nails did

I've often said, "Never trust a girl who doesn't paint her toe nails." I think I still feel that way. I understand not everybody can afford to get a pedicure every six weeks (or month), but I do think women should keep their toes presentable.

On that note, I probably can't afford to get pedicures as often as I do, but as I always say, "I'm worth it." To be fair, I only do it during the spring/summer when I'm wearing sandals or when I'm about to go on vacation.

I'm leaving for Florida Tuesday, so I got my toes ready today. I went to Nail Love; your typical Asian nail salon, and they do a hell of a job. $20 with a $4 tip, and my toes look lovely.

A couple things during the experience made me chuckle today. First was the massage chair I sat in. Sure it had the typical back massager, but it also massaged ... other parts. Namely, my coolie and my chi chi. I looked around and none of the other women getting their toes done had exercised their right to get a back massage in the process. And it's pretty obvious I'm getting the full treatment, because every time it rubbed "down there," the chair let out a loud noise as if it was puffing air. And I couldn't figure out how to turn it off!

Almost every time I get a pedicure, the ladies ask me if I also want a manicure. I've never had a manicure other than the fake nails I wore at prom (which ended up underneath the table and all around our cabin in the Wisconsin Dells). I pick my nails and chip the polish very easy, and it's a lot more expensive to maintain a manicure than it is a pedicure. So I always say no. Today, the ladies really worked me over.

The owner came and sat down next to the girl who was working on my feet and asked how I was doing. This led to the obligatory question of whether I also wanted a manicure. I said no but thank you. She said it'll be really easy, we'll do such and such with your cuticles and just put a clear polish on it. Nothing fancy. No, but thank you, I said. Then she turned to the other woman and said something in a different language, and they both looked at me and smiled. "Your nails are so nice," she said. If they're so nice, why the heck do I need a manicure, I thought. Then she gave me the sales pitch again. Again, I said no, but thank you. "Maybe next time," she said. Then she said something to the other woman in a different language again. They both laughed. I'm convinced it was something about me.

I felt like Elaine in "Seinfeld."

First birthdays

I went to Cooper Lanka's 1st birthday party today, and he did not disappoint. Cooper is the super duper adorable son of my co-worker, work spouse and friend Ben and his wife, and my Sparkle Twin, Erin.

He had a mild meltdown when they put a birthday hat on him while we sang "Happy Birthday," but who can blame him? Who wants to wear a cone hat with a tight string around your neck anyway?

Once the hat came off it was game on. They sat him down in his high chair and gave him a monster cupcake all for himself. Cooper was a little weirded out at first; I think more by the crowd of paparazzi/family standing in front of him than the actual cupcake. But once he tasted that sugar, it was on like Donkey Kong. Like any man, Cooper decided eating with his hands was too time consuming. So he shoved his face into the frosted cupcake and munched that way. We were all in tears it was so hilarious.

Then it was presents time, where he became more fascinated by tissue paper and a box with a picnic kit inside than anything. There was also an all out war between Ben and Erin's families to see who could give him better gear from Ben and Erin's respective colleges (University of Dayton and Xavier).

It made me think of my first birthday ... or what I've heard about it. I believe I wasn't too into the crowd in my grandparents' backyard, so I demanded my parents hang out front with me. I started rollin' VIP at an early age.

It also made me look forward to three first birthdays I'll get to celebrate next year. Heather and Jason are having their baby Tuesday; and Lauren and Justin and Janine and Jason (two separate couples, not some weird polygamous union) are actually due on the same day: December 11. Two boys (Schwartz's and Miller's) and one unknown (the mysterious Franciose's).

Bernard Mysker ...

... is my grandpa. My mom's dad. And sometimes, I think he's a Martian. Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with him. Even when he's grumpy and snaps at my mom or her brother or sister, if I say something, he's sweet as sugar. But the best part of hanging out with my grandpa, 82, is discovering the vast number of things he is confused about or has no idea exist.

See for yourself:
*There's a rumor he didn't know who The Beatles were. This, despite the fact that his two daughters went and saw "Help" at the theater and screamed their asses off when Paul came on the screen.
*He thought a CD was "certificate of deposit." Which, I suppose he's right, but he had no idea a CD also played music.
*He didn't know what STD stood for. "In my day we called it The Clap." When I laughed that he didn't know this, he said "I don't watch that MTV crap."
*He saw a commercial for a movie that wasn't even in the theaters yet and thought it was airing on CBS that night.
*We were in Hawaii and went out to lunch. I ordered nachos. My food comes, and he's just staring at my plate with a confused look on his face. Finally, he says "Kelly, what is a nach-o?" Had never heard of them. The catch here was these weren't your traditional nachos, they were Hawaiian nachos and had shredded pork and different toppings. So I had the task of trying to explain that while these were nachos, they were different than what he might order at any other restaurant. "Can I try one?" he asked. He grabs a chip, inspects it as if he just discovered a black pearl in a Hawaiian mine and puts it in his mouth. It was like watching a baby taste something for the first time.
*My mom and aunt bought him a cell phone so he could quit using calling cards when he contacted them from Florida. But a cell phone only works when you turn it on. When he does turn it on, it's for a minimal amount of time and then he turns it off again. I think he's convinced it's costing him thousands of dollars. Before he got his cellie, I was showing him mine and explaining how a plan worked. He was convinced I was getting ripped off. I explained I got 900 free minutes every month and he said "Nothing's free. They're getting their money somewhere." Every time he uses it, he holds it like it's a nuclear bomb or a grenade and never remembers specifically how he placed the call.
*Didn't know what a smoothie was ...

... which brings me to the next generation. My dad, 54, also didn't know what a smoothie was. "Is it like that crap you get at 7-11?" "No, that's a Slurpie." My dad has expressed similar characteristics to my grandpa and is also clueless about many things in pop culture.
*When asked if he'd ever eaten at Quizno's, he replies, "Isn't that the same thing as Kinko's?" The best part is he works for Federal Express, which owns Kinko's.
*Calls the iPhone a "Google Machine."
*"What's a Beyonce?"

There are many more stories for each that wouldn't translate into text. I hope none of this comes off as mocking or mean-spirited, since I know my kids and grandkids will probably be telling the same stories about me.