Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Cracking Up: Finding the perfect vacation spot to dwell


as published at www.ocregister.com on July 11, 2012:
Nestled in a quiet wood past a sea of orchards in the Ojai Valley lies a quaint dwelling built into a trove of trees. Its rustic cabin-like exterior harbors a bohemian, modern enclave within. This abode — listed as the "Dwell house" (though monikered the Agave house) -- facilitated this year’s installment of our annual experiment to find a vacation place of our own. 
As a kid growing up in Memphis, TN, visiting relatives here in Orange County every summer was a pilgrimage to our getaway, our "place." Now that I have a family of my own with a permanent address here, I often feel like we live on vacation. But we still crave a place to which we can retreat to leave the knocking, ringing, and shuttling of daily life behind. Article Tab: rustic-enclave-sleek-fron
The front view of the Dwell house: rustic cabin on the outside, ultra-modern sleek and chic enclave within.
AUTUMN MCALPIN, FOR THE REGISTER

Over the years, we’ve tried out various spots within a one-day drive perimeter but had yet to find one that felt like ours. Until this weekend.
As a vacation rental, of course this Ojai "treehouse" can’t technically be ours. But the homeowner mastered the art of making it feel that way.
Upon entering, we were greeted by the scent of fresh white lilies and pine. Eclectic light fixtures and bold art accenting the birch framework begged for a lingering look at all the surfaces of the efficient loft-like space. Sunlight streamed in from the gratuitous windows that flanked every wall. My husband sighed in relief that his requisite Wifi worked while my kids scampered up and down both floors, waving to each other from the skylights in between that created peek-a-boo intimacy.
With fluffy comforters and linens lined by funky sequins aplenty, my kids quickly claimed their individual places to cuddle and settle in. And when I discovered my two daughters hunkering in the spacious closet "ort" under the stairs, I also stumbled upon my favorite home feature: the bookshelf...


Read the rest:
Cracking Up: Finding the perfect vacation spot to dwell - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Cracking Up: A vacation that never was


as published at www.ocregister.com on May 30, 2012:
The treehouse "Dwell" in Ojai; available on vrbo.com...another too good to be true option when you wait 'til the last minute...
"What are you guys up to this weekend?" the text from my friend read.


The idealism had all started Friday morning of the Memorial weekend holiday when my husband emerged from our home office after two years spent buried in his new business to announce he was ready to bug out of town. This glorious news greenlit my favorite hobby: trip planning. BUT ... 


"Ideally, planning a surprise to take the kids somewhere fun! Realistically, working in pajamas," I replied, wondering if my favorite flannels had yet made it through the dry cycle. 


"Before I spend four hours planning the perfect getaway, I'm going to need a commitment and a credit card from you," I said, safeguarding my efforts from the reason and logic he loves to hurl at my "great ideas." 


He handed over the plastic and I was off. But a quick search on every Lastminutedealsforloserswhowaitwaytoolong.com site revealed … nada. Besides an $8,000 a night suite in the central coast, every "family resort" adventure in the western hemisphere had been booked solid for months. Overachievers. 


So I branched out to a land of Plan B trips, finding this route included many options my kids might find "memorial..."
To read the rest, click here:
Cracking Up: A vacation that never was - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Vegas Babies, Yeah!

Recently, we were driving home from a week long ski trip in Utah when a pit stop in Vegas sounded like a good idea.

It was 3a.m., and I think our imploding car of M&M's, empty milk bottles, and four blurry-eyed kids was the last thing the valet expected to see spill out into the Hilton driveway upon opening our car door.

After nearly losing an arm and a toddler through the revolving door, we entered the foyer to face the gold and gaudy, smoky casino.

Ping, ping, ping, ping! I watched Blake (our four-year-old who has recently entered a smoldering love affair with his Nintendo DS) eye the playground as he squealed out, "GAMES!!!" He took off, and we caught him just before security did, but he started doing the ugly cry (which is extra ugly at 3am in a room filled with wrinkled gamblers). This continued until he was distracted by the lovely life-sized poster featuring the in-house XXX show.

"Mommy, did that lady forget to put her clothes on?" Cripes.

Luckily, the third ring of the circus caught his attention, as he watched a woman wearing six-inch heels and a skirt of about the same length pass out on the marble floor next to her giggling group of likewise wasted friends. They all stared at her and squealed with laughter as her poor boyfriend (client?) attempted to pick her up.

"Mommy, that lady must be reeeeally tired."

I'll bet she was. We finally made it to our room and convinced the kids all the cartoons had gone to bed. And as all six of us quickly fell into a cadenced sigh of slumber, Blake called out, "Mommy, I LOVE hotels!"