Amy isn't technically a mom yet, so she has an excuse for acting like a 10-year-old. Me, not so much. But we had a real fun time regardless! The San Antonio Riverwalk was our destination for Saturday night festivities. What a cool little oasis that is. We ate & had some rather large margaritas (her husband and I), which made the walk down the Riverwalk that much more enjoyable. It's packed with people of all shapes, colors and sizes...there's countless restaurants tucked away every square inch. The river runs through the middle and one can easily fall right in if you're not careful. No, I did not fall in, though that would have made for a great little story.
On our way out, the "souvenier store" provided for the above displayed entertainment. Thank you Paul for indulging in our childlike desires for taking pictures with every hat in the store. San Antonio is a pretty cool city. The weather was beautiful (70 and sunny) and it really is a clean, new, beautiful place to be. Thanks Amy & Paul for showing me a good ole time. I'll look forward to popping in again some time (maybe with husband and child the next go-round).
Thank you Mr. Westin for creating the San Antionio Westin Spa, where we spent 5 lavish hours indulging in oils, lotions, stones, polishes, dry heat, steam, rub downs and total relaxation. This was a first for me. And hopefully not the last! Aside from the little girl checking us out and charging me double of what I was suposed to pay and explaining that she "just couldn't fix it," it was a lovely afternoon. You all know me better than to think I let that slide, so that added another 30 minutes to the experience.
At a whopping 13 miles per gallon, windows that won't go back up, gas tank doors that won't open and doors that need to be unlocked 15 times before they actually unlock, our Land Cruiser has met its final hours with the Mile High Vogs. We've decided to move on.
What vehicle should we replace the Beast with? I'll tell ya one thing we WONT replace it with. A mini-van. Mile High Dad says that unless they make a van that's a stick with a foreign name brand on it's rear, we aint goin there. He understands the convenience factor and doesn't want to offend anyone reading this who might own a mini-van...all the power to you and yours! But the Mile High Vogels will not enter that realm of famliness. We have decided on a Honda Pilot instead. Never mind the fact that our best Colorado friends have the exact same car in the exact same color as the one we're purchasing. This is our way of telling them how much we idolize their existence and want to be exactly like them. From one gas hog to another...the new one being a smaller hog than the old.
We've been trying to get to a new church we're considering joining for 3 weeks now. Week one went something like this....Little dude is dressed in his Sunday best, Mom and Dad are in the car, diaper bag packed. Dude is hungry, so a bottle of formula is passed to the back seat and the car seat visor is lowered to block the sun. After 2 minutes, Little Dude is whining and looking up at us with disgust. He had burped up a majority of what he just ate...or so we thought. We pull over to clean him up and are suprised to find out just how much more was in his small stomach afterall. His first bought of carsickness. There was no going to church at that point, so we drove home as rapidly as we could.
Week two found Little Dude with a cold to top all others and being the responsible parents that we are, decided to keep his yellow snot and phlem at home in the confines of our home.
Week three....this past Sunday...we made it to the parking lot, puke free, snot free and even hit mostly green lights, which puts Mile High Dad in great spirits. We see a tight spot, but figure we can make it. Mile High Dad, typically the world's greatest driver and car enthusiast, pulls in and is suddenly blinded by the glaring Colorado sun, thus nicking the passenger door of the car next to us. Given the Buickness on the vehicle hit, we figure it belongs to one of the many elderly folks who might not notice the dent and scratch, so we decide to leave a note explaining our mistake. We were NOT going to miss the service on week three.
We leave church to find the Buick doing approximately 4 series of back ups and pull forwards to get out of her parking spot and hope that she'll call us to talk about fixing the small dent. She does...10 minutes later. Mile High Dad tells her that we'll pay for the damage and will do whatever necessary to help her out. 97 year old Emma has proven to be amazingly with it for someone nearing a century old and has called Mile High Dad over 11 times in the past 2 days. They have become fast friends really, but Mile High Dad is praying that this will all be over soon. I think we should adopt her and start brining her meals. How many times in life do you get to know a 97 year old woman who can still drive, talk, and go get estimates from body shops while telling them that their high bids are a bunch of crap? I'm relieved to know that spunk is not a trait that leaves you as you age.
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