Pandas and Extended Nudity With Friends: Beth Returns From Vacation!

So, phew, where to begin? It’s been a mighty long time since last I posted anything, so there’s much to catch up on.

Let me start by thanking the Johnson clan for putting me up in their lovely home for a few days and for showering me with the gifts of homemade naan and roasted Tandoori Chicken. Taste-eeeee! These folks put on an amazing feast every time I see them and this was no exception. Props to Tony for giving me WORD (You rock, little man) and to Sophia for a great picnic with the Care Bears. Here’s to more bizarre memories that we won’t be able to remember 20 years from now! Scavengers? I’m so glad I finally got off my behind and came down for a visit, just as I’ve threatened to do for years and years, it was definitely worth it.

Which brings me to the PANDAS. Pandas! Wheeee! Live, cuddly, snuggly pandas. Life is just totally worth being giddy over after you’ve watched a panda sitting in a tree, eating some bamboo, being all snuggly and panda-like. It’s just cuteness on a ridiculous scale. They should come with the same warnings that I feel baby otters should be issued. Do Not Look Directly Into The Cuteness. Can you tell I went a little panda-happy, folks? Can I also mention that you can buy a shot glass at the zoo with a picture of a baby panda on it? Does that seem….not quite right?

Which NEXT brings me to the wine country. Wine country! Wheeeee! Land of full-bodied cabernets and brie by the truckload – Beth was truly in paradise. The only way it could have been better was if the pandas actually came with us and served up the brie and wine (a plan I am actually working on, by the way). In an attempt to detox from the past few weeks/months, Beth and her travel companion Stacy decided to hit the spas for the famous Calistoga mud baths during our stay.

This seemed like a good idea at the time. Again, I repeat. A good idea at the time.

It wasn’t until we entered the mud bath room at the spa and stared at the giant vats of mud before us that we realized – Holy. Crapola. We will. Have to be. Naked. In the mud. Next to each other. Together. Without. Clothing on.

After much sputtering and staring and awkward glances we sucked up our dignity, sucked in our tummies, closed our eyes and the next thing we knew we were sitting in a vat of hot mud in the buff. We’re definitely crossed a line that friends usually don’t cross on vacations. (This line is called the Sitting Naked In a Vat of Hot Mud For $75, by the way).

Was it all worth it? Let’s say I’ve seen a lot in a week’s time, and that’s not a bad thing sometimes.

No Napas Actually Taken in Napa 2007

Oh Jeez.

Okay, so I went to Napa and haven’t blogged about it in for-EVAH, okay? Sorry, World at Large. We ate yummy food, we stayed in an adorable yellow house, we basked in the 85 degree heat, we tried wineries that no one else has ever heard of – in short, it was a fabulous trip. I even got to shop for olive oil and schmancy cheese.

This was actually my third time to Napa Valley. The first was in my 24-year-old Chardonnay guzzling years, in which I couldn't drink anything anymore robust than a super-oak-y, fruity Chardonnay (hey, no compaints or judgement). The second being the Naked Mud Bath Experience Trip, in which I remember nothing except being naked in a mud bath and then this trip, in which I feel I've become enough of a respectable wine snob to know the difference between the varietals but remain cheap enough too not stray from what's offered at my neighborhood Trader Joe's. It's all good anyway you look at it.

Still, if you’ve never rocked out to Young MC’s “Bust a Move” while gazing upon endless fields of grapes then you’ve not done Napa properly, Amigos. There was the obligatory viewing of "Sideways", an educational tour at Mondavi that took roughly seven hours, several ongoing conversations about Why Beth Will Never Go Camping*, and more cheese and bread than you can shake a $24 Merlot-dipped stick at.

I returned home feeling rested, sun-baked and saturated in bold, full-bodied Cabs. Ain't a bad feeling.

** Look, smores and bonfires are cool and all, but I don't like peeing outdoors. I don't like sleeping outdoors. I don't like not showering. I don't like being that far from room service. I'm sorry, but I am NOT a happy camper.