Archive for February, 2015

Wisconsin 2015



This is 40 (Yahoo!)

A billion years ago, my mom told me that it was perfectly acceptable to decline to be weighed at the doctor’s office. Years later, Doc Heather confirmed the accuracy of my mom’s report. Despite these wise women’s words, I never used my voice to ask not to be put on the scale. The most I had ever braved on this front was saying meekly to the nurse, “I don’t want to look.” Often, this was met with mucho respect. The nurse would go out of her way to shield me from the computer screen or whatever other papers would show the numbers. Other times, not so much. Today, though, I was staring down the barrel of a doc appointment to look at some itchy splotches on my right calf that have been there for months that, according to the interwebs, could either be (a) eczema or (b) cancer. What’s more is that said appointment was going to directly follow a lunch I was required to attend to listen to the Administration defend its budget proposal. Add to that that I’m swamped at work and feeling like there’s not enough time to do anything well in any arena, and I was just not feeling the scale. Plus, I have a regular physical in June so what in the world is the point of adding insult to injury? I remembered my mom and Heather’s advice, and told myself, “Today is the day. Today is the day I say, ‘Uh, can we skip that wretched machine that discounts all of my positive attributes and shows me an ugly number that will make me feel bad forever? Please!’ Yes, today is the day.” So, I steeled myself. I drove to the appointment, parked, checked in, got kicked off of the self-check-in kiosk because I admitted I’d traveled outside of the country in the past 21 days, was gently told I broke the kiosk, was asked about Ebola and corpses, used the restroom, sat down in the waiting room, stood up when a nice woman asked if I were ‘Kate’ and told me that the nurse had called my name, and then nearly lost all of my resolve when I relaized that the nurse assigned to my appointment was male. Why would this matter? I’m not so sure, except I think I worried that maybe by asking not to be weighed I’d be fulfilling some sort of stereotypical ‘women can’t handle the truth’ nonsense. In any event, it didn’t take long before I snapped back to reality and my courage returned. The nurse made his polite introduction and said, “And then if you’ll just come this way and we can get your weight.” He swerved to the right, ever-so-slightly. I said, quickly, “Actually, can we not do that?” He swerved back into his lane and took a left, saying, “Sure. No problem.” And that was that. And this is 40.

Tulum: to and fro

Before we went to Tulum, we spent a lot of time trying to figure out how we were actually going to get there. We had our tickets from Milwaukee to Cancun, but like Madison is from Milwaukee, Tulum is about 80 miles away from Cancun. So, we could (a) rent a car; (b) take a bus; (c) take a taxi; or (d) take a private transfer, as they’re called. At first, we thought we’d take the bus. We’d read that they’re safe and reliable, omnipresent and inexpensive. The fare would have cost us each under $10 each way, I think. But then we also read that it could take up to three hours with all of the stops. And that we would have to transfer in Playa del Carmen. I worried that if our flight, which was scheduled to arrive at 5:15 pm in Cancun, was delayed and if immigration and customs took a long time, we might not get into town until 10 pm or later. That didn’t seem like an ideal way to start off the trip.

So we moved onto car rental. We thought, “Wowee!” when I found a car from Thrifty for $35 for Saturday through Thursday, which included unlimited miles. But then AO dug into the interwebs and discovered all sorts of horror stories of car rentals—from being shaken down by the police to being gouged with extra insurance costs to having credit card numbers stolen. Of course a million and one people also reported that they had had no issue with rental cars, that the process was a breeze, and that it was such a great way to explore. Still, we were sufficiently nervous that we took another look around. And we looked and looked and looked, but couldn’t make a decision. AO did some research and came up with Canada Transfers, which was highly rated on TripAdvisor. There are a number of other transfer companies that get great reviews, and there was another one recommended to us by the owner of the hotel at which we stayed, but we opted for CT because of its high rating and its willingness to have cold beers waiting for us upon arrival. In addition, the total cost for the two of us to get in a private van at the exit of the airport to our hotel doorstep in Tulum and then for the van to meet us on the morning of our departure and take us to the airport was $165. Seemed sort of like a no-brainer. I was worried, though, because our indecision meant we were booking the service within maybe 28 hours of when we needed it. In the end, though, there was no reason to worry. Everything went off without a hitch (unless you call CT having Coronas for us when we had asked for Sol a “hitch,” which I really don’t) and we would recommend them without hesitation. Oh! And an added bonus of the CT experience? The company advertises that they will meet you at the airport with a sign with your name on it. I was very excited about this, except also embarrassed, so I put AO’s name on the request. Well, we had been warned sufficiently not to make eye contact with the hundreds of people waiting outside of customs to sell us time shares (in reality, no one seemed very interested in us) and to just push outside, but to make sure that we did not fall victim to CT posers and to verify that we were getting a ride from the right people. I thought this would be easy enough because, after all, someone was going to be holding AO’s name up on a card. Except that didn’t happen. There were a ton of people waiting to transport people to their hotels, but no one was advertising that they wanted to escort AO. Boo. We circled around for awhile and decided to just stand near the two men who were wearing CT shirts. I wanted a closer look. Were these real CT people or were they the frauds we’d been warned against? It was hard to tell. They looked legit. Their shirts had the same logo on them that my receipt had on it. They had big clipboards with spreadsheets of what looked like hundreds of names and arrival times and hotel information. Hmm. I moved in closer. Soon thereafter, a man who can be described only as doing his best impression (and it was good) of Fred Armisen pretending to be a Mexican transportation wrangler turned to us and said, “Well, hello.” And then he found our names and we were sent on our merry way! It was a delight. Oh again! And one more thing … both vans we rode in had a child seat ready to go, which was great to see.

As for getting around once we were in town, transportation in the area could not have been easier. The town is highly walkable and we loved walking up and down the streets every day. It’s true that there are parts that have seen better days.


But there’s all sorts of greatness, too.



Our hotel, Posada Luna del Sur

Our hotel, Posada Luna del Sur

So, we did a lot of walking. To get to the beach, though, we did a lot of biking and a lot of taxiing. Both were super fun and inexpensive and easy peasy. We rented bikes from Center City Bikes (I think it was called) for 80 pesos each for 24 hours. The next day we rented bikes from iBike for 100 pesos each for a same-day rental. The same-day rental was all we needed both days because these two bike places were on the opposite side of town from our hotel so, if we weren’t keeping them for the week, it made just as much sense to drop them off at the end of the day and walk back to our room. Both bike shops provided bikes with baskets and a lock. AO told me that iBikes also offered helmets, but I missed that. The bikes weren’t in awesome condition, but they were functional. They were a little uncomfortable just because they were a little short, but the area is really flat so it wasn’t much of an issue.


On the bike path from town to the beach, there are all of these little rest stop thingees that have signs showing a parent holding a child’s hand or a person sitting down.


I wasn’t totally sure what the intent of these stops is – they look like bus stops, but I never saw anyone waiting at them or a bus stop and let someone off at them. They are kinda cute, though, don’t you think?


The above snapshot is a pic I took while biking on the path. Very fun.

What else was fun? Taxis! There is something super fun and yet relaxing to me about taking taxis in paradise. The windows are open, the breeze is flowing, it’s warm and sitting in the backseat makes me sleepy. Taxis from town to the beach were about $6 for the two of us each way.


In addition to walking in Tulum Pueblo, we did a lot of walking in the beachy town and on the beach. A lot.


A path to a beach club

A path to a beach club




And then sometimes we’d end up at a bar.



All in all, I’m really glad we picked the transportation options we did. Despite our initial worries about getting around, it was a breeze.

Two and eleven twelfths

So, I swear I’m going to get to my Tulum-a-palooza posts, but I can’t let this day go by without publicly noting that my baby girl is one month from being a three-year-old. What the what? It’s true. And it’s exciting.

As her vocabulary continues to explode, I notice more and more interesting associations that she makes. For example, when I told her that the van driver gave us a beer after we got off the plane in Mexico, she said, “Daddy has a beer.” It took me a moment, but I realized that she was hearing “beer” and “beard” as the same thing. And yesterday, when I asked her if she wanted to watch the Puppy Bowl, she pointed at her small bowl of raisins and said, “That’s a people bowl.” Also yesterday, I noticed that she must think that “Sorry, that’s ok” is a phrase. I assume it’s because nearly every time she says “sorry” for something or another, I say, “That’s ok.” Now, she runs it all together. This morning, we had this exchange:

Molly: I’m going to kick you.

Me: What? Why would you kick me?

[Molly takes a step towards me and gives me a light kick.]

Me: Ow!

Molly: Sorry. That’s ok!

February 2015

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