December 29th

I have one name for you...a name that brings fear, hives, and anxiety to most...

Chuck E. Cheese

That's right, fellow child pleasers, the place "Where A Kid Can Be A Kid" and the place where some genius adult discovered the need for Valium.

I've visited this establishment on two occasions. The first dreadful experience was some years ago, and the second was last night. After my first visit with twenty kids and a singing mouse, I swore I wouldn't return. Oh, the things you'll do for your offspring.


My mom, Leslie, Creo, and Gabriel accompanied Ellie and I to Chuck E. Cheese to celebrate Miss Ellie's birthday. This was our family celebration (though we truly missed the rest of our family), but her actual birthday party isn't for another week. That was the key in making it a great time! Seriously, a 5 to 1 ratio in a place like that is definitely the way to go. We had a blast. Games, pizza, birthday cake, presents...no hives, headaches, or anxiety attacks. It was fabulous. Going on a Tuesday night could have been the smartest decision I've made in a long time.

I couldn't very well blog about it without adding a picture of her favorite ride there. A girl after my own heart! She was so stinkin' precious! Yay for birthdays!!

The Joys of Motherhood

Well, we made it. Somehow I managed to get Ellie to the three year mark without any emergency room visits, broken bones, nothing has had to be pulled from her nose or bronchial tubes, she holds her breath under water, she only fell off the bed twice, and she even stopped drinking the bath water....overall, I'd say that's some pretty good parenting!

Like any honest mother would admit, there were definitely some moments of uncertainty, possibly even fear. Although those moments were few, they still managed to sneak their ways into our everyday lives.

Like this for example:

I have no idea how the kid managed that one. She seemed to get in the little basket just fine, it was the getting her out that caused the panic. I, personally, like to think of parenting as more of a trial and error thing.

Ellie and I seem to be learning a good bit of the child/parent responsibilities as we go. I have a good framework for what I expect of her, and she corrects those expectations daily. A lot like this picture displayed above. I never expected her to get stuck (obviously, or I would have removed the basket from the tub), but she's opened my eyes to new possibilities.

I have to say, she taught both of us a lesson on that one. I learned how to remove a small square object from a large round one, which took me a good ten minutes, and she learned not to stick random things over her head. Guess what?! I haven't seen it atop the cranium since!

That was a lesson learned more on her part I would say. There have been quite a few instances that were definitely more beneficial for me. One of those instances being the fact that there is a little rubber stopper that goes in one of Ellie's sippy cups. The rubber stopper is what makes the cup a sippy cup and not what I might call a full-flowing cup. Apparently, remembering to put the stopper in after you wash the cup is a HUGE deal. Yeah, that took some time to clean up. Do you have any idea how quickly a two-year-old can make it around the house with a leaking sippy cup? Geez.

Or perhaps the baby powder. They make the little twist top for a reason, so it can be closed. I really didn't foresee Ellie pushing her little chair over to the changing table, climbing up the drawers, and emptying the baby powder container. All the while I thought she was napping. That little sneaker even knows how to tiptoe around her room.

Always an interesting journey. I can honestly say I wouldn't rather it any other way. It's fun watching her learn...it's a little embarrassing how she puts things into perspective for me, but I'm learning too. Such a sweet, sweet blessing she has turned out to be!

Happy Birthday, precious Ellenoir!

Three Years

As the year comes to an abrupt end, I'm forced to accept the fact that my sweet little girl turns three tomorrow. Nope, I cannot believe it's been three years since she was born. Although, you would think that special day would remain fresh in my mind with all the event replays I get from my oldest sister.

Let me just say, dating as a single mother has enough obstacles without your sister insisting on showing your significant other the video of you giving birth. Luckily, I've managed to intercept all attempts and made it perfectly clear that I would remove whomever shows this video from my family tree rather promptly should it be released. Believe me, I'm not above disowning a sibling.

I'm pretty sure out of the top 10 things you should never do to your sister, showing her birthing video without her consent is right around number 1. Yes, Gabriel and I are very close, but there's just something about seeing me eighty pounds heavier and pushing a baby out (in high definition) that makes me a little nervous. Silly me. By the way, Lauren, this includes releasing the video to Youtube. Thanks. :)

Awwww, you know I'm kidding about the disowning part...I'd probably talk to you again in a couple years. hehehe

Three years old....wow! Ellie has made some pretty great progress this last year. She's now speaking in full sentences, potty trained, and binky-less (which is the most recent development). She's so grown up now and I have to say she has every bit the attitude to go with it...not real sure who she gets that from. ;)

She is extremely independent and voices that independence with every task she takes on. It's always, "No, Mommy, let me do it" or "I can do it myself, Mommy" which is a little annoying right now, but I'm sure I'll be thankful for it later. She has just got to be the most precious thing I've ever seen!

Happy early birthday, Miss Ellie!

A Little Christmas Spirit

Ahhhhh, Christmas....

The season that brings out the angry shopper in us all. It's crazy! Wait, let me rephrase that... Women are crazy! I will admit I do occasionally run across a few tragically chosen males sent by their wives (against every manly instinct in their body I'm assuming) to complete those last minute tasks. I only say that because I always catch them in random stores like Bed Bath & Beyond or La Gourmet Chef looking completely dumbfounded. Believe me, I say a silent prayer for each of them for having to endure such madness. That's got to be true love.

They just look so meek and mild, like a little lamb that has lost his flock....only the discovery channel version where the lamb is about to be destroyed by crazed wolves with shopping bags. As a women, if my man hands me a shredded bath towel with someone else's initials on it, I'd find true romance in the effort that went in to getting out alive with that towel. So thoughtful.

There's just something about the holiday shopping deals that provokes this strange form of rage. A quality that seems to lie dormant the other 11 months of the year. Wonder why that is?

Me? Oh no, not me. I'm of course referring to every other woman on the planet. I would never be caught cutting someone off, giving fellow shoppers that dirty don't-mess-with-me-or-this-tinsel-will-be-used-as-a-weapon look, or snatching the last cashmere scarf off the shelf before that little person dressed like an elf could grab it. By the way, I find that wrong on several levels. Santa's got this huge workshop all to himself up north, but yet he sends his "little helpers" south to grab all the good deals. Hoarder.

Overall I'd say my shopping experience this year has remained rather mild. Tolerable and surprisingly successful (I'm thinking that's mainly a result of my online shopping). I've almost finished too! I finally picked up an item for my mother last night that was apparently sold out in every store north of Savannah, but I snagged it (nope, it wasn't that cashmere scarf either).

The other present I haven't received yet is for my sweet sweet boyfriend, Gabriel. I have high hopes that his gift will be arriving sometime today...I hope, I hope, I hope. I mean, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't have a killer gift for my honey on Christmas Day?! We all know he deserves it.

That's one thing I find extremely important during these shopping escapades...a constant. Someone that regardless the horrible shopping language you may use or the snappy (often times intolerable) attitude you maintain, they remain the same lovable person you fell in love with years ago. Now that, my friends, is the truest of love....and I should definitely find one of those guys. ;) hehe... Just kidding, baby!

Seriously, a special thanks is in order for the vast efforts Gabriel has put forth in taming the shrew. I think I've actually learned quite a few things from my Gabriel! How could I not though? The person I spend the most time with is inevitably going to rub off on me. Luckily I have a sexy, thoughtful, responsible boyfriend to share such qualities with...well, that and a three year old (I try to take more qualities from Gabriel than Ellie, but the occasional temper tantrum fights its way through ;)).

Life is good, Christmas is going to be wonderful, and the company I'll be keeping will be no doubt memorable...as most Davis Christmas festivities are.

Merry Christmas!!

Victoria's Secret

As an addendum to my Christmas post, I thought I would add in a special moment I observed while watching one of those unfortunate male scavengers sent on the annual Christmas gift hunt.

I was casually looking through the Victoria's Secret selections at one of our local malls, as normal women who love lingerie do throughout the year, and in my peripheral vision I noticed a man across the room from me searching through the perfume section. This guy was mid-thirties, an obvious home-grown country boy, dressed in camouflage shorts, a long sleeved shirt and a Georgia hat (normal attire for the locals that rarely make it out to the malls). I found no surprise in this shopper, I normally run into several of these guys in Victoria's Secret this time of year and right around Valentine's Day.

I immediately thought to myself, "This will be good." I of course did what anyone looking for a good laugh would do, I moseyed my way a little closer.

As I'm approaching this fella I couldn't help but evaluate the situation, you know, paint a mental picture of what had, is and will happen with this guy. Here he is, hat almost hanging off the back of his head (obviously a product of scratching his head in confusion for the last thirty or so minutes), eyes pointed up in an effort to survey the floor to ceiling perfume displays, and two brightly colored bras in his left hand. He had assumed the position of a bouncer, feet shoulder width apart, chest swollen, and arms securely folded across his chest; no doubt determined to find a particular product.

As I settle into a good observation area a few feet away (I had no intention of offering assistance until he'd spent another fifteen minutes there in confusion), I could practically see the hamster in his head sweating from the intense workout he was getting just trying to keep up with the decision making process.

I have three questions going through my head at this point:

1. Who helped him pick out those bras?... and I sure hope he got some sort of size before he came in here.
2. When was the last time he actually picked out a perfume for this gift recipient?
3. I wonder if he knows he's looking at the men's cologne?

His eyes skimmed across the first row slowly, his mouth dropping a little bit wider with every bottle that passed. Then he made a move. He grabbed the Very Sexy (for men) and puts the top to his nose for a smell. The look on his face quickly expressed his distaste in the product. I hear him whisper to himself, "Smells like a dude."

Interrupting this moment of humor was a woman, obviously an employee, coming to offer the man some assistance. Dang it! Right when it was getting good.

Woman Employee: "Can I help you, sir?"

John Doe: "Yeah. I'm lookin' for this perfume that my wife wears. Smells good. This don't smell real good." He hands the bottle to the woman for her to return it to the shelf.

Woman: "Well sir, this is our Very Sexy fragrance for men."

John Doe: "Well now, that would explain it. Got anything for women?"

Woman: Motioning her hand to cover the majority of the room she replies, "We sure do. Do you have anything in particular you are looking for?"

John Doe: "Hell, I don't know. Somethin' nice (pronounced niiiiiice)."

His eyes continued to inventory the products as he reached for the Heavenly Body Mist.

John Doe: "Mmmmm, that's nice. Looks kinda like that bottle in our bathroom too."

Woman: "This is a very popular fragrance. Would you like the perfume in addition to the mist?"

John Doe: "Mist? Perfume?" ......

Oh yeah, his hamster was officially off the wheel at this point. That just completely threw him off track. The best part was the woman's reaction to the stunned look on his face. She merely picked up the mist and said, "It's ok, we'll just stick with the mist."

Gotta love it!

Welcome To D-Deck...

I can't bare to let my lack of writing short the significance of these precious vacation moments I have stored in my cognitive bank. I feel I'll be referring back to these for years to come.

What can I honestly say about this photo that it doesn't already say on its own?

Oh wait, I know....TRAUMATIZING!

Funny how that works. Any normal viewer may think, "Well that's refreshing... Even though they have huge orange life vests on, they still look like they're having fun."

Not so much. The words fun and life preserver don't really belong in the same sentence (unless of course you're speaking in reference to a floating chair, a drink tray of some sort, or really any other resourceful non-life-threatening purpose in which life preservers are sometimes used).

The infamous muster drill....

So, I understand the concept behind the muster drill, but nothing quite says lifesaver like three mildly intoxicated adults and a screaming two year old. Given my emergency management experience, I think I could do a pretty sufficient job creating a few pre-drill rules for the passengers:

Rule one: Know what time the muster drill is scheduled.

Rule two: Limit your alcohol consumption to one drink (if any) before the drill. Scratch that, you should AT LEAST have one drink before the drill.

Rule three: Small children should be locked in a cabin while you attend the muster drill. (This is for both their safety and the sanity of others of course.)

Rule four: Be prepared to sweat profusely while standing in line for a ridiculously long period of time...with an abnormally large life vest around your neck.

Rule five: If you're claustrophobic you should not participate in any muster activities unless there is an actual emergency (and even then I would question heading to the deck areas).

See, that would have been the smart way to approach such an event. Inform the guests with the need-to-know facts and leave the rest out.

Looking back to our cruise experience, this event flashes hazard with every sense of the word.

Let me add some insight for those of you who seldom take a cruise. A muster drill (also sometimes referred to as a lifeboat drill or a boat drill) is an exercise conducted by the crew of a ship prior to embarking. It includes all pertinent information directly related to proper emergency departure from the ship. You know, an effort to prevent such events as those that occurred during...let's just say....the Titanic for example. I can't really think of anywhere in the Caribbean that thousands of passengers are going to freeze to death, but I'm pretty sure shark bait is the first on my list.

Sure, slap a life vest on and jump on in. I'm thinkin' not so much.

I don't really know about you, but when a boat that's carrying over 3,000 people takes a nosedive to the deepest part of the Atlantic, the last thing I want to be doing is trying to figure out where D Deck is located. Naturally, I want to find the nearest bar, possibly even the engine room in an effort to huff as many fumes as possible to help soothe the ever chaotic circumstances.

Protocol...that's how they run these things. March 'em in, line 'em up, show 'em how it's done, and send 'em on their way. Though, I don't recall anyone demonstrating the appropriate being-eaten-alive-by-a-shark technique.

Both of my sisters, their significant others, myself and Ellie were all stationed at the same deck. Who knows if that actually helped the situation or would hurt it in the long run.

So, the drill is in full swing. We're lining up on the deck and Ellie at this point is completely devastated...and when I say devastated, I mean I was that mom with the screaming kid. Yep, that was me.

For starters, the ship wasn't even scheduled to leave port until 10:00pm. This means that the muster drill was at approximately 9:30pm, which just happens to be the normal bedtime for the offspring.

So she's miserably tired, hot, and antsy like normal toddlers around this time. Luckily, like I mentioned before, the adults had already downed a few brews before the whole thing started, so I was pretty calm and collected about the whole thing (hints the smile I'm displaying in the picture above).

Just a quick question before I continue...

How many of you new mothers have been forced to strap an oversized life vest on your child...while she's screaming? Anyone? Well I have, and there's just no pretty way to do it. Then, once you get it on, one of the crew members has to come by and slap a wristband on your child so she doesn't get shipped to the wrong deck if something were to happen. I can only imagine the thoughts streaming through her head at this point.

She's yanking the wristband off, pulling at her neck and screaming like someone is about to throw her overboard (which I'm sure that thought crossed several minds by this point).

In the split second that she actually caught her breath, Ellie looks up to me with the most pitiful, tear filled eyes and says, "Hold me, Mommy." So of course, like any good mother would want to do, I try to pick her up to comfort her in this traumatizing moment.

What happens next? Like any good mother, she slips out of my hands, onto the deck, and then into the water.

Sike! I might be a new mom, but I'm not that bad. I will say though, it is physically impossible for one human being to hold another human being (child or full grown) when both are wearing those life vests. Not a pretty sight.

Consumer Report

As I was diligently making my way through a few of our hundred (+) channels the other night (which is always an exciting event for me seeing as how this is the first time I’ve had more than three channels since I was born), I was delightfully astonished by the idea that people will try to sell anything. Seriously. I mean, I run across internet advertisements for random crap all the time, but this is television. We’re talking real life people (b/c we all know whatever happens on television IS real). Not only is it real, but it’s streaming into the comfort of my home.

Actually, I find the most humor in the idea that people actually buy this crap…and that my bank account is now $19.99 less due to a must-have item I happened to run across myself. Kidding, kidding…c’mon now, I do have some sort of self-control. Well, except for that one time the telemarketer persuaded me to buy a year subscription to some magazine that I had never even heard of, but that’s another story.

I just can’t see spending my money on an apple slicer when my knife seems to work just fine. Same goes for some of that other stuff too. Ever heard of a lap mug? Let me help:

Oh yeah, that’s exactly what I want in my lap…a scalding cup of coffee.

“Look, no hands”... I’m thinking not so much.

Let’s don’t forget what happens when you are half asleep (as I usually am when I go for a steaming cup of coffee) and you forget that your normal, flat-bottomed, dependable mug has now turned into an awkwardly large bullet-shaped thing with a handle. What do you accidentally do with it? Yep, you set it on the coffee table (which was conveniently named in the first place for accommodating your coffee-mug-holding needs). Then what happens? I can’t foresee anyone blessed with the natural talent of balancing THAT thing on the coffee table. So truthfully, I see this as a hazard you just purchased for $16.99…unless you order now, in which you can get three [hazards] for the price of one.

What about the chocolate bar magnets?

I have a toddler that has a nose like a hound when it comes to chocolate. She can spot candy from a mile away. The last thing I need is to walk in the house and see the few magnetic collectibles we own stuck to Ellie’s abdomen just because she thought the chocolate magnet looked appetizing…”Look mommy, it sticks to me” is not something I personally want to deal with.

Should I really even start with the sea monkeys? Anything that can be revived years later from dormant encysted eggs has no place in my house. That’s just creepy if you ask me.

I have to admit I did find mild interest in the alarm clock with wheels.

Someone did once mention that if I put my radio alarm on the Southern Baptist channel, I’d jump out of bed to turn it off in the morning. I don’t particularly like being yelled at during a sermon; even more true at 4:45 in the morning. I can see it now… chasing an alarm clock with wheels through the house at the crack of dawn. By crack I’m referring to the fact that’s what the neighbors are going to think I’m on, running around the house that early. I guess it could also be mistaken for some sort of domestic dispute…what with all the screamin’, yellin’, fallin’ over stuff and such. I started to rethink the interest in the alarm clock after running that scenario through my head a couple times.

Oh, and my favorite of all useless, wasteful ways to spend that extra dollar that’s burning a hole in each of your little consumer pockets: the Obama Chia Pet.

“Special Edition Chia Obama” it says. I don’t know about you, but after seeing that I felt compelled to stand, place my hand over my heart in appreciation and sing, “Cha Cha Cha Chia.”
Somewhere in the advertisement hypnosis state I was in I broke free in laughter. Life doesn’t get much better than that. They try and sucker you in with the, “In honoring our 44th US president” nonsense. I have nothing but respect for anyone that makes it into office; I even like plants as much as the next person, but a chia pet? Sorry, but if we’re headed down that road…when I am president all I want is for somebody to put my name on that huge portable pig billboard that sits out in front of that BBQ joint…bet cha that won’t cost you $19.99.

Cruisin' Through 2009

I can't quite say whether the lack of posts is due to a serious case of writer's block, or the fact that 2009 has been an insanely hectic year thus far. Though, I can't very well shy away from the fact that I have been known to procrastinate a time or two as well.

It's funny how an eight month gap sounds like a long time, but yet it really does seem like yesterday that I was writing about a ski-induced concussion. It's so cliché, but time really does fly by. Gah, so much has happened since then. I took a trip to Chicago...mostly business, but fun. I went to Las Vegas...which was all fun, but not near long enough. I've also been spending a good bit of time with my sister in Knoxville, some much needed sister time that I've been neglecting. Last but not least, we just returned from an awesome cruise.

When I say awesome, I mean nothing less of the word. This was our first family vacation in years. Yeah, we've had trips here and there together, but never the whole Davis clan. So what better way to contain a crazy group of eight individuals than to stick them on a huge boat in the middle of the ocean? "I'm on a boat!" Yeeaaahhhh, that's what I'm talkin' about.

I would normally say that the adventure started once we left the airport, but so many memorable moments occurred before the actual flight...I just have to include them for future reminiscing purposes.

As a female and mother of an [almost] three year old, it's understandable that a nine day vacation would call for a mass amount of luggage. I did pretty good though, I managed to get all of Ellie's and my own stuff into my one suitcase. Yes, it took a forklift to maneuver that bad boy, but I was pretty stoked that I was only going to have to pay to check one bag even if it was a little over sized.

A little over sized...now there's an understatement.

Lauren strolls in the house around midnight Friday night only to find me laying on my suitcase trying to get it zipped. Actually, it took a bit of coercing from Judson to take out quite a few things before I could close it.

coerce (v.) , -erced , -ercing , -erces . To force to act or think in a certain way by use of pressure, threats, or intimidation; compel.

And by that I mean he really had to coerce me. I wasn't very happy, in my tired state, that I was going to have to unpack and repack yet again. Several comments I vaguely remember making:

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do? You're taking away the things that make me ME!"

"No Judson, not those shoes! They're my favorite!"

"Thanks so much guys, I'm that girl standing in San Juan with a case of Red Bull and a pack of Ellie's Pull-Ups ready for the vacation."

Good times. :) So anywho, Friday night was spent getting those last minute things together....zipping the suitcase, downloading some new jams to my iPhone for the plane ride, getting my carry-on full of Ellie's stuff, etc. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night. I still can't decide if it was out of stress or excitement that I woke up every hour on the hour. I was like a little kid before Christmas. Ahhh, who am I kidding? I was like myself now before Christmas.

I don't know how things go at your house before a big vacation, but as fun as the Davis family can be is just about as stressed and chaotic as we can be too. Think about it, four women, three men, and a two and a half year old all getting ready to leave the house by 9:00am. Don't ask me how we did it, but we actually were pulling out of the driveway by 9:15am. Amazing I tell you. The only thing running through my head was a sound that faintly resembled that circus tune...do do do-da do-da do do do.... yeah, it was craziness.

We finally made it to the airport! As I was casually dragging my luggage, my daughter and my carry-on behind me, we decided it would be better if we all just put our stuff together and took turns going through the baggage check line. Smart, smart decision I must add. We Davis women all have our own agendas you know, so we all headed our separate ways....leaving Ellie on baggage-watch-duty.

What can I say, I'm a terrific mother....

Kidding, kidding...she was totally supervised at all times (yeah, by the airport security cameras maybe).

No, seriously though, this is how it went: Mom and I went to check our bags in one line, Leslie and Creo checked their bags in another, Judson and Dad were still parking the cars, and Lauren and Ellie sat on the remainder of the luggage waiting for our return.

Side note: Pack each person's luggage separately.

I seriously thought I was doing better by packing Ellie's stuff with mine. Not by a long shot!

Funny thing, let me tell you something about checking bags...If you normally fly Delta (which I've done several times in the last six months), you pay $15.00 per bag unless it's over fifty pounds and then you pay an extra fee for the overweight. Not a bad deal if you ask me. But when you fly AirTran to San Juan with the same suitcase packed full, you pay over $100. No bueno! Oh well, by the time we finally made it to the ticket counter I would have paid anything to make them take the bags.

(My sister's fiancé, Judson, and I at the airport)

Stoked, stoked, stoked!! We were all so excited about the trip! On top of that, even the flight was fun because it was Ellie's first time on a plane. She was so precious! Good thing she was, because the rest of us looked ridiculous trying to lean on one another to grab a nap between Atlanta and Puerto Rico. I don't really consider a nap helpful when you wake up with a stiff neck and the whole right side of your face numb. Don't ask.

Ahhhhh, arrival in Puerto Rico.

Yay! So we made it to San Juan. We gathered all of our belongings and headed to the taxi line to get a ride to our hotel. Once again, the circus theme song danced along in my head as we tried to coordinate our baggage claim and taxi service. We all managed to keep track of Ellie which was an accomplishment in itself, but somewhere along the way Leslie's bag was mysteriously misplaced. Luckily after a few minutes and some help from the airport security we found it.

(The search is on for Leslie's Bag)

Our hotel was beautiful. Our rooms were nice, contemporary and really spacious...which we managed to clutter up in no time at all.

(Part of the fam in San Juan)

Well, our original plan was to fly down on the same day the cruise departed (Sunday), but after a month of planning with one of the Radiologists we work with, we decided to spend Saturday in San Juan. This doctor is originally from there, his brother is actually the mayor, and he was beyond excited about taking us to dinner and showing us around while we were there. Great idea, huh? Only if you aren't planning to have a four hour dinner.

Oh geez, that was quite the obstacle with Ellie. Great, great food, but stressful for everyone. So, about 11:00pm I took Ellie back to the hotel room...and they were still on drinks and appetizers when I left. I didn't even realize dinners COULD last that long.

So midnight rolls around, I'm asleep with Ellie and I'm suddenly woken up by Judson's skinny finger eagerly tapping me on the shoulder..."Evelyn, Evelyn, wake up! You're coming out with us! Get up!" I of course jump right up and I'm still in my evening wear from dinner. Yep, that's when I remembered we had planned to go out once they finished dinner.

Have you ever woken up not knowing where you are, only to look down to find you have a nice black dress on, high heals, and a phone in your hand? Probably happens all the time, but I was beyond confused for a few short minutes.

I have the best parents in the world! They kept Ellie while I met back up with Lauren, Judson and all the other people they had met while I was gone. Fun, fun times! Apparently, our hotel was THE PLACE to be. Both the lobby and club were packed all night. Man, I'll tell you one thing about Puerto Rico...the party never stops. I seriously think people were still partying when we were headed to the pool later that morning.

After a late night/early morning, Lauren and I got up and headed down for some poolside breakfast before gettin' our tan on. They had a fresh breakfast buffet that looked great after the long night we had, so we sat at a quiet little table on the patio. I'm not sure how familiar you are with the wildlife of Puerto Rico, but let me just tell you about these birds that were lurking around the patio. They looked like crows, could quite possibly have been a crow, but a little more elegant and a little less I'm-going-to-gouge-out-your-eyes. That's what I thought at first anyway.

Naturally, these birds were hanging around to catch any crumbs that might be on the patio...like what most pigeons, seagulls or other avian related animals that prey on small children would do in this instance. As I sat with my plate in front of me I realized I was in immediate danger. There I sat...staring...eyes agaze on this jet black, red eyed, razor sharp beaked bird staring directly back at me.

It's one thing to have this happen to you in a normal state of mind, but it's quite another to have this happen after a night of drinking.

The bird continued to stare at me, then my food, then back up to me. I of course (because I find some sort of weird humor in the whole thing) pick up my fork and gently pierce a strawberry, moving it slowly to my lips without losing site of this little black demon. I felt as if I was in some sort of typical old western about to engaged in a gun draw....crumbs blowing by like tumbleweed.

I started chewing on the strawberry with an intense stare that could have burnt that little creature to a crisp. Then he starts to sway....yes, I said sway. He's shifting his weight back and forth on his skinny little legs like his anxiety was getting the best of him. He looked as if he might jump the gun, but he seemed to be holding his position. I then decided that my best line of defense in this scenario was the fork I was holding in my hand (hey, this thing could have been rabid for all I know...I had to take precautions). So I slid my hand around the fork handle, forming a fist around the utensil and ready for anything that might come my way.

Then I heard something, it was Lauren approaching the table.

Mistake #1: Never lose eye contact with the enemy.

I turned for a split second and the bird charged. Out of the corner of my eye I could see what looked like a ten foot wingspan (and yes, I was hugely hugely mistaken). I immediately jerked to the side and bent over my armrest as if I was going to dive under the table. For some very odd reason things look so much larger in my peripheral vision.

Yeah, so that thing wasn't anywhere near me. In my semi-panicked state, I realized I had misjudged the bird's size and flying direction. As I was catching my breath and repositioning myself back in my chair, I looked behind me only to see the bird ever so eloquently perched on the back of a nearby chair with a smug little grin. Some might suggest the grin was merely the way his beak naturally lay, but I know better.

Lauren asked me if I was ok and I of course answered with a, "Holy crap! Did you just see that bird?" With an amused smile on her face, Lauren replied with an, "Ok, Evelyn...how 'bout you sleep at night." I don't care what she or anyone says, that bird was gonna fight me for my breakfast. I could see it in his eyes... he backed off only because he knew he couldn't take Lauren and I both on at once.

To give all of you gentle readers a better idea...

...pure mayhem.

Concussed Part II

There isn't much I can say about waking up the day after your first time skiing. Pain pretty much sums it up I think. I guess that's normal though, after you spent the night before beating your body against the side of a mountain.

So we're ready for day two on the slopes! We wake up, grab some breakfast and then head to the slopes! Joining in on the freak show was Judson, who was smarter than I and decided to spend the day watching rather than skiing. Not us though, Lauren, Paul and I were off again to conquer the mountain.

I do have to say the conditions Saturday were so much nicer. There wasn't any snow blowing in our faces, the temperature was warmer, and the sun was just glistening off the snow. Perfect day for some ski action.

What a blast! I was doing so great. You would never guess that I was the crazy person rolling down the mountain just the night before.

In congruence with the Friday night twilight ski, we had our "apple cider" flask full to keep us warm and to assist with any unsuspected anxiety that may sneak up on me. Although, seeing as how my skiing efforts were really starting to pay off, the flask was just adding to the fun. So we're just movin' on up to new slopes; having a great time. Then, as mid-afternoon approaches, I look at my ski buddies and say, "Ok y'all, let's hit the big one from last night!"

What a rush! It was so great! Yes, I actually made it down on several occasions...without falling! I was so proud. Lauren and Paul gave a few shouts of excitement before we headed back for our last trip.

How 'bout a little explanation about why this was my last trip down the mountain....

Lauren, Paul, and I lined up for the ski lift to take us to the top. Another guy, we'll just call him Joe for reference purposes, was headed to the top as well. Seeing as how this was a four person lift and he was all alone, we coaxed Joe into riding up with us. After a little chit-chat and a few good laughs, we start approaching the top of the mountain. Lauren politely asks Joe, "Which way are you going?" Joe, who was meeting some of his friends at the top, informed us that he was headed down the right side of the mountain.

I found myself mildly intimidated by his statement, mainly because his decision to head down the right side meant he had to cross in front of me to get there. Under normal circumstances, proper chair lift etiquette might state that all chair lift parties must exit the lift together and then worry about which way they want to go.

My thought process during this quick conversation was that I would wait a few seconds and let him off first. That was nice, right? That way Joe could just get off the lift and head straight for the right side. Yeah......

A few seconds in ski-lift-time can be a really long time.

So there I am, sitting on the lift and I see Lauren, Joe and Paul get off the lift. It isn't until now that it comes to my attention I am about to get left on the lift...alone. So what do I do? Seriously, what would you have done?

I jump off the lift, which was suspended a good five feet in the air, and land on my skis for a brief second before the momentum actually catches up. My skis went forward and my butt hit the snow. That would have been ok if the momentum wasn't such that the whiplash motion sent my head to meet the snow as well.

Spell it with me now...c o n c u s s i o n

That's right, not only did the sobering knock in the back of the head have me seeing stars, but it also had me questioning what the heck I was doing on the top of the mountain! Time, at this point, had no relevance and the throbbing I was feeling (and hearing) faintly resembled the sound of horses' hooves cantering about on my head. That seems like an accurate description seeing as how all I could mutter out was, "Hey guys, have we been riding horses today?"

Surprisingly enough, Lauren and Paul were able to contain their laughter (I'm thinking only because they actually saw how hard I hit the snow/ice) and helped me ski to the bottom of the mountain.

Ahhhhh, never a dull day out with the Davis girls!

Skis...Check! Concussion...Check!

I should probably just go ahead and preface this post with an age-old comment (which is perfect for this discussion): If you can't laugh at yourself, then who can you laugh at?

Skiing: a sport in which participants must travel on skis... hmmmmm....

Snow is a funny, funny thing. Having been born and raised in the south, I can only think of a few select times that we actually had enough snow to play in. I'm not talkin' that ice/sleet stuff that we manage to get every year, I'm talkin' the beautiful, white, fluffy snow that you see in pictures. You know, that snow that's ideal for skiing. So, you can imagine my reaction when myself and three others decided to hit the slopes a few weekends ago in North Carolina.

Aside from being consumed with excitement, I have to say I was dealing with an extreme amount of anxiety. There's just something dreadfully intimidating about standing at the base of a snow covered mountain with your feet strapped ever-so-tightly to two long pieces of wood. Ok, so the standing part wasn't near as intimidating as the feeling I got when the the infamous words came out of Paul's mouth, "It's ok, Evelyn. It's really not that hard, just point your skis downhill and go with it."

Hmmmm...

"And go with it" just doesn't seem like the last words I want to hear before I die. Ok, ok, so we were just heading to the bunny slopes...which brings me to the first of many questions I still haven't found the answer to. Why would someone stick the bunny slopes at the bottom of a steep hill? I'm sure there's some angry little man somewhere nearby just peeping through the woods at the (for lack of a better word) beginners bustin' their tails just trying to get to the bunny slopes.

So there I go, completely clueless as to how I was going to manage this, but somehow staying on my skis and reaching the bottom. I'm thinking, "Not bad, not bad. I actually might be able to make it through the weekend without breaking anything." So after getting a brief lesson from Ski-Pro Paul, who glides like a penguin across the snow, I decided it was time to give the bunny slope a go.

I should probably add a little background information on the scenario in which we experienced that Friday night. After renting our skis, arriving at our cabin, throwing on our ski clothes and heading to the slopes, we made it for the twilight skiing. Sure, sounds fun right? Skiing in the dark while they're making more snow...so exciting, huh? Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. Not really all it's cracked out to be. So anywho, we arrive at the slopes and decide beer and some shots are only going to make this experience that much better! So we hit the bar in the lodge and then the slopes...which brings me back to the bunny slope incident.

I'm in my skis and headed for what looks like a conveyor belt, but for skiers to ride on. There comes question number two, "Who sticks a conveyor belt in the snow and expects you to actually ride on it, WITH skis on?" Like other experiences in my life, a little alcohol and my inhibitions are out the window.

I approach the conveyor belt, skis pointing up the mountain, and I step forward to gracefully ride to the top of the slope. Not so much. There was nothing graceful about whatever it was I was doing. One ski made it on the belt and the other was left squandering behind (with my leg still attached to it I might add). In a naive attempt to balance myself and reposition my skis, I managed to plummet off the right side of the belt (which was conveniently a snow covered ditch about two feet deep). At this point there isn't much I can do except laugh. Lauren, who is bent backwards laughing at her sister, tries to get out an, "Are you ok?" Paul, who is the most encouraging person I think I've ever met, minimally contains his laughter long enough to help me back on the conveyor belt.

Ahhhhh, an excursion to the top of the bunny slopes. ha

At this point I'm thinking, "Holy crap, this is going to be a long trip!" We Davis girls don't just give up though. Nope, that would be too easy. Instead, after three more runs down the bunny slope the most interesting thing happened. Words of mild courage came out of my mouth, "I think I'm ready for the real slopes now."

Dun, dun, dun....

Excited about the sudden change in pace, Lauren and Paul decided we should probably get on the ski lift closest to the bunny slope. They saw no need in taking off our skis and climbing to the top of another hill in order to reach the next ski lift, when there was a lift right next to us. Sounds good to me. So, still somewhat agreeable at this point, I line up for the lift with Lauren on one side and Paul on the other.

What a nice ride, I'm enjoying my rest and the somewhat dark scenery when I start to realize the lift ride is really taking a bit longer than I expected. On top of that observation, I start noticing the incline at which we're traveling at this point. Still oblivious to the idea that nor Lauren or Paul really knew where we were going, we finally reach the top and I hop right off the ski lift. I'm thinking, "Ok, this isn't going to be so bad...at least I made if off the lift."

Then I hear it, words that sound a bit like uncertainty coming from Paul. Personally, I cannot think of anything less comforting that the sound of uncertainty (borderline fear-for-my-safety) coming from the person teaching you to ski...at the top of a mountain! So I look over my left shoulder and all I see is the edge of the mountain. Lauren who is fearless, just pushes right off and heads down. It's apparent, as I watch her instantly disappear off the edge, what I was about to deal with.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, we had taken the ski lift to the highest point. I take one look at Paul and say, "Nope, I can't do that." Of course his reply is, "I'm sorry, I didn't know we were going to the top. It's ok, I'll help you down the mountain." What else was there to say except, "No seriously, I can't go down that." Then he goes about fifteen feet ahead of me (or below me considering the circumstances) and stops. He throws out a, "See, I'm right here. You'll be fine...promise."

So there I go, all the while thinking I'm going to die and a bit relieved we visited the bar before heading up the slope again. Of course, I ski a bit then panic that I'm going too fast and plop right down. Then up...ski...then fall again. This continued for about six good falls and then I decide, "Ok, I can do this." So I brace myself for what could possibly be my last trip down the mountain, and I head downhill.

I must have gone ten more feet before managing to make a ninety degree turn to the left. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of experiencing skiing (or a black diamond), let me enlighten you on what a ninety degree turn going mach three down a mountain will do to you. I'm pretty sure my tail end hit the snow first, then all I could really see was snow and my skies going different directions over my head. The only word that comes to mind is tumble, and that's putting it lightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have heard you wrong. You meant stay ON your skis....Ok, that makes sense."

Ahhhhh, good times.

Well, I actually made it to the bottom in one piece. Face covered in snow and water...which was a mixture of face-plants into the snow and the snow from the blowers blowing in my face the whole way down. So, Paul hooks us up with some goggles and we're off to try it again.

I, with my knees still shaking and a death grip on my ski poles, head toward the ski lift for the intermediate slopes. Lauren and Paul truck along right beside me with nothing but words of encouragement, "Don't worry Evelyn, this one won't be near as bad."

So we ride the ski lift up and I actually manage to make it down the slopes several times without falling. I was doing pretty good for myself. Aside from the few ice patches that resulted in loss of control and a quick fall, I think I was really getting the hang of it.

Note: Never get cocky when you're attempting a new sport.

So Lauren, Paul and I decide to go down the same intermediate slope a few more times before calling it a night. We get on the lift and make our way up to the top. I wasn't really aware of this, but did you know they have a little "lift shack" (I'm pretty sure I just made that name up) that someone sits in so that they can stop or slow the lift if needed? And you would think that since they're paying someone to work that little shack they would actually stop the lift if....let's say...three people pile up underneath it. Yeah, that's what I was thinking too!

Lauren and Paul try to prepare me for our (awkward cough) lift dismount by telling me which way to turn so that we all make it off ok. In this particular case we needed to make a hard right off the lift to what I would now call the "safe zone"...b/c apparently there are lots of unsafe areas when getting off the ski lift. I'm thinking, "I got this. All I need to do is make it over there without knocking Paul or Lauren down."

Sounds pretty easy, right?

As we're proceeding off the chair lift, I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking about. Whatever it was it obviously had nothing to do with getting off the lift safely. I hop up and with one not-so-swift motion I manage to take Lauren and Paul down with me. Unable to contain my laughter, I just sit there. I glance over to Lauren, who is holding her head with a confused look on her face, and manage to get out a, "Sorry, Lauren." She just looks back at me and says, "Ouch, one of those poles in front of us must have hit me in the head."

About that time, out of nowhere, the ski lift chair smacks into the back of Lauren's head. As Lauren assumes the fetal position, I hear Paul say, "Holy crap, the chair just knocked Lauren in the back of the head....twice." Being the insensitive (somewhat tipsy) sister that I am, I reside in the snow consumed with laughter. It wasn't funny that Lauren was hurt, or that the lift chair was still swinging from left to right, but more the fact the chairs were still flying by...one after another.

Finally pulling it together, I lean over and ask Lauren if she's ok and all I get in return is a, "Do you think you could move over!" So I try to move to the left, but given our positioning that particular maneuver just wasn't happening. Paul pulls me out of the way and then Lauren to safety. (I'm thinking his calling should have been a lifeguard rather than a doctor given the dragging technique he used to get me out of the way.) In retrospect, with my huge blue ski suit and immobile body, I'm sure I looked like the beached whale of the scenario. The analogy fits quite nicely, seeing as how I needed a crane to assist with getting me back on my feet.

What a tough one though! Lauren gets up, shakes a little snow off and heads down the mountain like a pro. We decided to do another trip down the slopes and then called it a night. We figured we had done enough damage for one night.