One of my dearest friends asked me yesterday, "What happened to your blog!?!"
I thought my Olympic disclaimer mentioned this vacation, but it did remind me to attempt to get back in the saddle, now that Michael Phelps, Gabby Douglass and the rest of us must return to normal lives (and bedtimes) as we await Rio.
Disclaimer One: blogging takes TIME. I was discussing this with my bloggy friend Melody over at http://mypassionfordecor.blogspot.com/
who, by the way, nominated me for a blogging award!
How fun is that?
So I thought I'd start a few posts about some of the fun places we visited this summer.
In July, we got to travel to Lake Tahoe. It was partly a work trip for Caleb but since we are also celebrating our tenth anniversary this summer, we made it "count" for that as well. Killing two birds with one expense, er, I mean stone, if you will.
You know you are staying in a fancy place when you check in, and they hand you glasses of champaign.
Here was the view from the hotel balcony. No lake, but beautiful mountains behind us. I have no idea who that big guy in the pool is, but he should be happy he made my blog.
Did I mention morning temps of low 50's?
Tell me why I live in the midwest again?
Speaking of morning temperatures that mimic what heaven is going to be like (I haven't found it in the Bible but I'm sure God has us covered on this one), while the hubby was in breakfasty-meetings, I got to have my quiet time here.
See how beautifully still that lake was?
If only my soul could be that still...
Then I went for walks each morning. That rock between those trees went up to my chest to give you an idea of how gorgeous and tall those bad boys were.
(Why do I tend to "want to" and "enjoy" exercise so much more on vacation?)
The one thing we really wanted to try that we have never done before is go white water rafting.
O.M.G. So. Much. Fun.
Except for the moment I almost died. Or thought I almost died.
Or rather had a nasty panic attack in the water while I was convinced I was drowning. But as you can see in this picture, I apparently get over near-death experiences quite quickly because I was smiling at every rapid.
(FYI: After your rafting trip is over, if your friends drink several Bud Lights they are highly inclined to buy these photos that they sell in the gift shop).
I have no idea how we ended up with these. Wink.
And if you are ever in Lake Tahoe, you must promise you'll go to a little Mexican place called Caliente.
Sorry for this terrible picture.
But I was so excited to eat these I must have been shaking.
(Never mind that bottle you see on the top of the picture. Again, rafting all day in 98 degree temperatures makes a person quite thirsty).
These little delicious morsels of manna from heaven were deep-fried AND stuffed jalapeno peppers.
You must order these. And if you dare, they have a margarita list that will make you blush reading them, much less saying the names out loud while ordering them.
On our second day we had a fishing guide who took us all over the lake.
Up at 5 a.m. to catch a sunrise like this.
The lake looked like a swimming pool.
Our guide told us that the water has actually diminished in clarity in the last 20 years, but I thought it was still amazing.
Oh, and because you want to know these things, this is Sylvester Stallone's lake house. I think it had seven fireplaces?
I expected to see him running up those rocks like he did in Rocky, but I don't think anyone was home.
After several hours of fishing and too many snacks for me (the best fishing guides give their customers lots to munch on while you wait), we finally had a bite on the line.
I was volunteered to reel it in.
Can I just say it is not as easy as it looks?
The line was 334 feet below the water. As I started to get tired and feel like a gigantic weenie (simultaneously thinking they will all kill me if I accidently let go of that rod), our guide (who I kept calling Neal and I think his name was Phil), yelled, "Laurie, only 180 feet to go!"
Here is the fish! I mean trout! I mean blabbity, blabbity, golden-lake-cold-water-something-or-another-lake trout!
(And my cute friend Meg. Of the duo of some of our favorite couple friends: Pete & Meg).
Please notice the fish. Not my arm fat. Unbrushed hair. Or goofy smile.
Since we really weren't interested in packing up frozen fish for the flight home, our guide dropped us off at the Wet Woody's dock where the restaurant cooked him up for us to order for a small fortune, I mean, nominal price.
He was delicious blackened with some saucy goodness over him.
Such a fun time. Happy tenth anniversary to us!