LynEtte, Alison, Stephanie and Diane.

We declared ourselves to be pilgrims on the road to Santiago.

But before we ever started out on the trail, we had a hunch that we were taking The Way a little easier than most. (Camino Lightweights, if you will.)

For starters, we were only doing the last stage, by some accounts the easiest one, 110 kilometers from Sarria to Santiago.

Secondly, we were not carrying our luggage. We used a luggage transfer service instead of carrying large backpacks.

And lastly, we were taking six days to do what is normally a five day journey. And we built in time on both ends for extra rest.

Because you know, jet lag.

So for all of these reasons, when we were brainstorming for a hashtag for this trip, we decided upon, #PrincesasDelCamino.

And as it turns out, we totally lived up to our name.

LynEtte even brought us crowns!

So just for laughs, I thought it would be fun to share a few things princesses do while they are on the Camino de Santiago:

Always ask for ice. (the Spanish word for ice is el heilo)

Turn down the TV in a restaurant when it is too loud.

Have strong opinions about food, especially tuna.

Dress up for dinner.

Leave our mark everywhere we go.

Have wine with every meal.

Turn every outing into a party.

Start walking at 10am.

Find the best spots on the trail for resting.

Take lots of breaks along The Way.

Always look beautiful, even while walking.

Have sangria by the pool.

Fit in a little shopping.

In a cute little boutique shop, of course.

Take lots of selfies.

Make lots of friends.

Wear matching shirts for the finish line.

Have a day at the sea.

Cuddle each other when the weather turns cold.

Dance when the sun shines.

Love each other. A lot.

Laugh.

A LOT.

I love my #PrincesasDelCamino and I’m so thankful for the time with these sweet friends on the Camino de Santiago.

I hope we will find ourselves walking together again soon in the future. Until then, here is a little video collection of us Camino Lightweights some of our biggest laughs.

Our journey along The Camino de Santiago was made possible by Macs Adventure, who found us the most wonderful places to sleep and made our giant suitcases magically appear in our rooms each night. 

If you enjoyed this post, you might like to read more about the Camino de Santiago. Or consider subscribing to receive stories in your inbox.

The post Snippets of the Way: Pilgrims or Princesses? appeared first on Alison Chino.

I knew I was in trouble by the tone of his voice, but I was buying time.

Um, no, actually, I don’t think so.

I answered meekly.

He came back with,

What are you doing, exactly?

Me: Well, we’re just walking down this road. (stating the obvious)

And, um we well, we were going to have a look at the castle.

Him: Excuse me, what did that sign say?

He said this while pointing back down the road towards a gate we had shimmied over. You could not actually see the gate from where we were standing though, because it was a mile and a half down the road. That’s how far we had been walking down a lane to have a gander at a castle.

Let me back up.

Before we met the self-appointed protector of the castle, who incidentally reminded me of Ricky Gervais in Night of the Museum, we had been walking.

Carol and Rhonda, my #SpeysideSistas, and I had set out from the small village of Tomintoul early that morning.

And even though we knew that Ballindalloch Castle was going to take us off course a bit, we were looking forward to making the detour for a couple of reasons.

Carol and Rhonda had yet to visit a proper Scottish castle on a grand old estate. We’d been to the castle ruin of Dunnottar the previous weekend, and it is gorgeous. But Ballindalloch is a castle that is still in tact, with furnishings and paintings and all the fixings. At least I think it is. I cannot say for certain since I have still never been inside of it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Secondly, we were looking forward to making it to Ballindalloch Castle because I had inquired ahead of time about their cafe hours and offerings. The castles around Scotland usually have tearooms that serve cakes and baked goods, also known as “fine pieces” in these parts. Ballindalloch even has one or two gluten free offerings in their cafe every day, a significant detail for one of our party.

So we had our sights set on reaching Ballindalloch Castle before closing time.

As we marched over hill and dale and came through several rainstorms, we were dreaming of a cuppa and a gluten free fine piece.

When we finally reached a sign for the castle that indicated that it was a mile further down the road (in the opposite direction from our night’s lodging), closing time was looming.

I remembered how many times I have taken someone to a castle just before closing time and been turned away because of forgetting an annoying little footnote at the bottom of many signs that reads:

“Last entry is one hour before closing.”

I warned the gals that we might not be able to tour the castle even if we arrived before the closing time. But we could still take pictures from the outside and have a piece of cake in the cafe.

So, on we walked.

Eventually, we came to the turn off of the main road for the castle.

Oops. Also, I forgot that often a castle’s driveway is about five miles long. So even though the sign read that the castle was just a mile away, well, that sign is for cars. And when you’re in a car, you don’t notice how long a driveway is like you do when you are on foot.

So we turned left onto the lane and pretty soon we came to a gate.

According to my watch, the castle was not yet actually closed. But apparently this place was a little hardcore on their “last entry” policy and had already closed the gate.

However, we were invested.

There was too much castle anticipation to turn around.

At this point, we just needed to see it.

So, we got ourselves around this little gate and headed on down the road.

The long road.

And like I said, we were about a mile and a half down this road before we were stopped by this guy:

Him: Excuse me, WHAT DID THAT SIGN SAY?

Me: What sign?

Him: THE SIGN ON THE GATE???

Me: Oh, that sign. Oh right. Um, I think it said that the castle was closed. (I’m really clever on the spot.)

Him: And what did it say underneath that?

Me: Ummmm…

Him: It said NO ACCESS. That gate is there for a reason. We have to be really careful about security.

Me: Security?

I should mention at this point that this man had stopped all three of us, but Carol and Rhonda had been slowly backing away from the conversation and were now standing a good ten feet away from me, not saying a word. In retrospect I am wondering if somehow they thought they could disassociate themselves from me if I were to be collected for castle trespassing.

Me: I’m sorry sir, we have been walking all day and we knew we were too late to actually tour the castle, but we were just hoping to… 

Him: (interrupting) We have to be really careful about security! People cannot just walk down this road. 

Me: (confused, picking up where I left off) …so we’re walking the Speyside Way this week and we are staying in the little town down the road tonight…

Him: (interrupting again) Where are you staying?

Me: (starting to dig in my backpack for my booking reference): Um, just a minute.

Him: Auch, it doesn’t matter. We just have to be really careful of security. (I swear he kept saying this over and over again.)

Me: Right, well, we are about to walk to the place where we are staying tonight and honestly, we were just hoping to have a quick look at the castle beforehand. 

Him: (eyes rolling) Well, if you just continue a little of the way down this road, I suppose you may have a quick look at the castle. But we have to be really careful about security, so if anyone stops you, you may tell them that I approved of it. Then you really need to be on your way. 

Me: Oh, thank you so much. We’ll go very quickly, I promise.

Then he got in his car and drove away. We managed to contain our fits of giggles until he was out of sight.

Then we continued down to the castle.

We were so nervous by this point that we were practically whispering as we walked around the castle.

We found a bench to sit down on and I pulled out a thermos of tea and some biscuits, making good on my promise that we would have tea at the castle.

Well, girls, Welcome to Scotland.

After a while, in spite of blue skies, it started to rain, so we pulled ourselves up and headed back up the lane.

We walked for several more miles and through a terrible hailstorm before we came to the end of our day.

Thank goodness that Helen met us at the door or we might not have gotten over our encounter with Mr. Gervais.

Our Speyside Way walk was made possible in part by the good folks at Macs Adventure, who should in no way be held responsible for my gate-crashing or for my ridiculous YouTube videos.

The post Speyside Way Stories: Castle Closed appeared first on Alison Chino.

Help!

We can’t get off of the train!

Hello!

Anyone!

We can’t open the door!

If you had been standing on the empty train platform of the sleepy town of Berwick-Upon-Tweed at 10pm on a certain evening in May, you might have heard the desperate banging of four people who were trying to exit the train but could not figure out how to get the door open.

No one else seemed to want off at Berwick-Upon-Tweed, which meant we would not be stopped for long.

While I was banging on the window, I started to quickly plot out in my mind what would happen if we really could not get off. Could I get us back from the next stop at this time of night? Would the hostel stay open for us?

The cruel irony in this story is that I have become almost smug in the fact that I am an experienced train traveler.

I know when the optimal time is to book fares in order to get them at the cheapest rate (4-6 weeks).

I have a family railcard so we can save even more. (Always cheaper to travel with children!)

I always reserve great seats. (My boys like a table, which we completely cover with food, books and drinks within minutes of sitting down.)

I always bring plenty of food. (Apparently, train travel makes children hungry.)

I know how to find our platform even if the station to which we are traveling is not listed on the screen. (Look for the end of the line. If you don’t know the last stop on the line, look for a train that is leaving at your departure time.)

I know to hold on to our tickets and keep them handy for when we leave the station just in case we need to feed them through barriers in order to exit.

Of course, I learned this last one the hard way. By not having my ticket accessible (or not having it at all) when I tried to leave the station.

In fact, I have learned most of these lessons the hard way. I’ve paid too much for fares because I waited until the last minute. I’ve stood up on a train where I did not have a reserved seat. I’ve been at the wrong platform when I looked at only the city and not the time.

But apparently, I still have lessons to learn.

“Wait a minute.”

My mother’s calm voice interrupted my panic at not being able to open the door to the train.

Then she began to read the instructions above the door out loud.

“To open door: Lower window. Open door using outside handle.”

“WHAT?!!”

You have got to be kidding me.

But it worked. I lowered the window. And lo and behold, the handle on the outside of the train opened the door. We were free!

Walking up the stairs and out of the train station, we were practically falling down laughing as we pictured all the calm, collected passengers on the train hearing us yell for help.

Of course, no one could be bothered to actually help the silly Americans who apparently cannot read.

Later Taido told me that it must have been an older train we were on. All the doors used to open up that way. For safety, of course.

Flash forward to a few weeks later and I am walking the Speyside Way in Scotland with two friends from Arkansas.

We decide to take an old steam railway for the last six miles of the walk into Aviemore. The train cars are wooden and the wheels are making a clickety-clack noise that is something out of a storybook. The whole experience is absolutely drenched with charm.

When it’s time to get off the train, we head for the door and they notice that there aren’t any handles on the inside.

“I got this.” I say, as I calmly lower the window and open the train from the outside.

The post All Aboard: A Story about Trains appeared first on Alison Chino.

A Story about a 1D Concert

Some things in this world just have to be experienced rather than enjoyed.

Even though I love being outdoors, I can also admit that a long day of climbing can be rough. Especially if it is raining. But rough days both build and reveal our character.

And often the reward for your trouble is something so unexpectedly beautiful that you quickly forget all the scrapes and bruises you acquired on the way. Like an incredible view after a hard climb, a hard wrought moment of joy after a trial can make you love life all over again.

Hard days usually show up without invitation, but sometimes we shell out inordinate amounts of money for the pleasure of having our character tested, like when we pay to enter theme parks or buy tickets to sit on long haul airplane rides.

Or go to boy band concerts.

Last week I stood in a crowd of 64000 screaming girls to see One Direction, a privilege I paid real money for in the form of a Christmas gift to our daughter.

The day began much like many other travel journeys, hopping a bus and then a train to Edinburgh.

Standing room only train journeys are great for testing your patience and stamina, and I felt I was up to the challenge. A bit tired from flying in the night before, I was determined to have a great attitude and adventurous spirit about this long anticipated day. Eye rolls and sighs from my teenage daughter would not deter me from being ‘fun mom’ today, even as I cringed against being grouped with all the other forty something mothers on the train trying to look hip/young/cool enough to be on our way to a teeny bopper concert. The fact that we were all wearing converse ‘trainers’ made it hard to maintain the illusion that I was different from them even if I wasn’t sporting 1D face paint on my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and used my ten square inches of space to breathe in,

This is me.

And breathe out,

I am a forty-year old mother of teenagers.

Breathe in,

I embrace who I am.

Breathe out,

I am grateful for my journey.

The long ride ended with an announcement from Mary Polly that she wanted to go straight to the venue to get in line, a plan we had both previously rejected as ridiculous. But now that she had seen how crowded the train was, she would not be deterred from going straight to the stadium to get in line. It was 1:30pm.

I let her go on and I joined her in line a bit later. At 5pm, they opened the doors and we shuffled along with the record breaking crowd of screaming (mostly) girls to enter Murrayfield, Edinburgh’s rugby stadium that has opened its pitch to concerts a few times in the past to the likes of The Rolling Stones and Madonna.

We quickly claimed our spot in the blue standing section, and for the next five hours we waged a war to hold on to our few inches of space on the ground.

Mary Polly was in front of me and not really up for chatting (or even pretending that she knew who I was) so I had these precious hours all to myself to stand and wonder at the spectacle around me.

The first three hours of standing passed before the concert actually began. Less than an hour in, I am sorry to say that the darkness of my heart was winning out over my endurance. A low point was when I started passing the time by coming up with a list of things I would bring with me in the unlikely event that I ever paid money to be tortured in this way again. And I am only a little ashamed to say that the list was dominated by items useful for quiet revenge on the several girls who shoved their way through and threatened to separate me from my daughter.

I wished for a bottle of something sticky to pour into backpacks being used as leverage to get past me.

Also, chewing gum. These girls had worked hard to look their best for Harry and the boys, and the way they flipped their hair had me overwhelmed. Could I have helped it if pieces of chewing gum semi-randomly moved from my mouth to the ponytail that slapped me in the face for the tenth time? 

I am happy to report that I moved past revenge fantasies to despairing over the state of our society and popular music in general. For our ‘entertainment’ several pop music videos were looping on the screen to add fodder to the arguments in my head that my teenage daughter has a long battle ahead of her to keep from comparing herself to the soft porn images of the likes of Little Mix. It must be difficult to become a brilliant scientist when all the world wants is a Troublemaker?

Thankfully, the opening act, Five Seconds of Summer, came on and sang the three songs for which we had already seen the videos, presumably so we would know the words. It was mildly distracting from my ongoing endurance test but quickly it was over, only to be followed by more waiting, more showing of the same videos and more standing our ground in the pack of frenzied ‘directioners.’

I watched with jealousy as those with reserved seats ambled in at 8 pm and sat down. They paid less for their tickets and so they were not treated to the extra four to eight hours of standing. It seemed like they had so much room all around them. Look how they could wave their arms or spin in a circle.

I considered leaving Mary Polly and heading to the back of the section, where I could draw a breath that someone else had not just exhaled, but a stubbornness inside me made me stay. I wanted to have this experience with her even if she wasn’t exactly all ‘Concert Selfie with my Awesome Mama!’ Later we would compare leg cramps and injuries, and she would be horrified that I would ever consider putting gum in someone’s hair.

I wouldn’t really, I told her, though I know that in the moment I was probably capable of worse.

And so I stayed. And around 9pm, One Direction took the stage and began to sing.

Well sort of. Mostly the crowd sang. Harry had a cold (poor lamb) and so while the other guys filled in, he flirted with the crowd. I think that’s what he was doing. I was not particularly undone by his rubbing water bottles on his skin and then throwing them out in the crowd for girls to dive after, but if the desired response is to get young concert goers to toss thousand-dollar cell phones on stage, then it was definitely working.

Niall, the Chino House favorite, mostly because he hails from Ireland, was all earnest expressions of gratitude and heart-warming performance, which almost made up for the fact that Zayn said it was great to be in Manchester.

Louis and Liam also helped sing Harry’s parts and attempted to match Niall’s energy, but none of it really mattered. It didn’t take much for the crowd to go ‘crazy, crazy, crazy!’

The screams were deafening.

23 songs later it all ended with fireworks and explosions of streamers, and with everyone wishing they could dance all night to the best song ever.

Was it the mountain vista after the long day of climbing or the moment of euphoria and clarity after a hard journey?

Well, you’ll have to ask Mary Polly.

But maybe wait ten years.

Because my guess is that this experience won’t even figure into the story of her life.

The post A Story about a 1D Concert appeared first on Alison Chino.

Do you remember the first time you ever flew on an airplane?

When you first felt the now everyday miracle of accelerating down the runway and then the nose of the aircraft lifting up into the air?

Just like that.  All of a sudden, you are flying.  Houses below you become smaller and smaller, until they look like toys and then like ants on the ground.  Soon they disappear altogether below the clouds.

Puffy white pillows of condensation outside your window seat.

Honestly, it still amazes me when I fly.  I am like a little kid waiting for that second that the wheels lift off the ground.

The first flight I can remember being on was from Little Rock to Boston.  I was four years old.  I held my Grandmother’s hand during takeoff, watching out the window and anticipating a journey.  She and I were heading to Mystic, Connecticut for her niece’s wedding, and I was to be the flower girl. 

I am certain now that my role in the wedding party was entirely contrived by my Grandmother.  She had a way of arranging events and occasions into ways of relieving my mother and aunt of one of their children for a spell.  Grandmother took every one of her nine grandchildren on trips of our own.  

Though I was super excited about going on a trip with my grandmother, as a flower girl, I was somewhat unruly.  I fought my grandmother about curling my hair in sponge rollers the night before the wedding until she was in tears.  It was already late, after a long rehearsal dinner and my grandmother’s dear friend, Helen, was also at the hotel when she was trying to get my hair curled and me settled into bed.

Now, Alison, you need to settle down and go to sleep because I have not seen Aunt Helen in a long time and I want to visit with her.

My grandmother might have regretted bringing me along when I replied,

I have not seen Aunt Helen in a long time either, and I want to visit with her too!

I then proceeded to talk both of their ears off until late into the night.  They both laughed about it, but the next day I was a complete pill to deal with at the wedding.  In fact, I am not even in all the wedding party pictures because I was nowhere to be found.

I was aghast when I was handed my basket filled with a bouquet instead of petals to throw.  I felt I had been cheated when I realized I was to walk down the aisle without being able to throw anything on the ground.

At the dinner reception following the wedding, Grandmother was worn out from keeping up with me and trying to make me behave. She let me out of her sight long enough for me to consume two glasses of champagne, after which I danced with the ring bearer, the father of the bride and the groom himself before passing out on a chair next to her.  She was sitting at a table visiting with Aunt Helen.

I imagine my grandmother to have been slightly horrified when she explained to my parents that I had managed to get drunk on her watch, but we laughed for years about it. 

She always said she was glad she had brought the life of the party to the wedding, and I was always ready to hop another plane with her to anywhere she was headed, even more so if champagne was on the menu.

Airplane Wing Photo used with permission from photographer Jacob Slaton, who made me laugh when he put this picture on Instagram, because don’t we all love to take this shot when we’re traveling?

The post First Flights appeared first on Alison Chino.

My kids have been in the middle of standardized testing for the last two weeks, and I am feeling so grateful that today is the last day of it!

We are definitely going to have to celebrate!

I think a little ice cream party is in order this afternoon. Sprinkles, cones, toppings and the like.

I especially feel for my kids’ teachers during testing time, because it is perhaps the most stressful couple weeks of the school year. I made a special point of finding Simon’s teacher to give her a little love after the first graders finished testing last week. Because first grade students and standardized testing, HELLO!

The signs of testing have been playing out in our car rides home from school every afternoon. Fights and tears seem to break out before we’ve even pulled away from the curb.  It has not been pretty.

I can relate to their anxiousness though, because I have always been a horrible test taker.  I would get so stressed out about tests that I could hardly function. My mom recently found this letter I wrote to her from school on a standardized testing day in 1984 that had us in hysterics.

Just for fun, I thought I would share with you this small glimpse into my slightly OCD grade school self. Maybe it will make you want to hug a student or a teacher today!

It’s REALLY important to have plenty of pencils and erasers on testing day!

The post Done and Done with Standardized Testing appeared first on Alison Chino.

On one day of Snowcamp we took a break from skiing and spent the day wandering around the town of Taos.

Taos has a really cute downtown square area with all kinds of shops, restaurants and galleries. (LOTS of galleries)

We ate lunch at La Cueva which was delicious.  I had shrimp tacos, which I recommend.  The winning dish at the table though was the trout.  Mary Polly and Ben split some very yummy enchiladas.

Then, of course, we had to stop at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory which is a longtime favorite of the kids!  Ben always gets a giant caramel apple.

I also love, love, love this little independent bookstore in Taos called Moby Dickens.  Taido grew up going there for books for summer vacation with his dad, and I always pick up at least one new book from the Staff Pick Shelf.  (This time I bought Hacking Your Education by Dale J Stephens, which look super fascinating to me!)

A definite favorite souvenir seemed to be these funny parkas.  I cannot even count how many guys (and gals) left $15 in Taos for these rug jackets.

One of the funniest things that happened on our day in Taos was that a group of guys decided on the way into town to have a contest to see who could bring back the most interesting souvenir.  All the choices were presented at group that night and the winner (chosen by applause) was this Yodeling Pickle brought back by Justin Klucher.  SO random I know, but really funny.

Sadly, his prize was this disgusting box of Fish McBites, which are just wrong.

All in all, we had a great day in town.  And we were all rested up for our last day of skiing!

The post Taos {Town Visit} appeared first on Alison Chino.

Last week I read Seven: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker, and thinking about this book is taking up the better part of my brain.  The book is the storytelling of her efforts to do a fast of sorts for seven months, from seven different things.

One month she eats seven foods. One month she wears seven articles of clothing. One month she gives seven things away every day. One month she adopts seven new earth-friendly habits.  You get the idea.

I have resisted reading this book because I sort of had a feeling that it was going to (to steal the author’s own phrasing) mess with me.

But I finally borrowed Sarabeth’s copy to read while she is in Kenya.  But before I opened it up I asked my Saturday morning small group if they would read it with me, because I knew I was going to feel the need to do something once I had read it.

And of course, I was right.  I am coming unglued with the need to DO SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.

But never fear, I am not going to preach to you about this book or about being a consumer American or about why we should all do the projects in this book right this very minute. At least, not yet.

(But beware, because in January, my small group is going to do something.)

For now, just so you will not worry, as I did, that this book is no fun, I just want to share with you this little bit.  I may have actually woken members of my family up laughing out loud at this in the middle of the night.

I was amazed to learn that in Austin, TX, where the Hatmakers live, there is a group of people who will come and plant a garden in your backyard and then they get to harvest half of the produce and sell it at farmers’ markets.  They even come back and help you maintain your garden.  Are you kidding me?? I was all ready to pack up and move to Austin solely on the basis of this piece of information, but then I remembered that Austin is in Texas.

So the setting for this excerpt is that the Hatmakers are beginning the garden project in the backyard,

Hearing a low hum, I looked for a swarm of locusts or approaching tractor.  The hum grew louder, picking up volume and definition.  Our heads popped up as we attempted to identify the crescendo and conceal our alarm.  The sound became chattery and high-pitched, causing a fight-or-flight response in me, left over from ten years in student ministry.  Then they descended:

Twenty-five teenagers on a mission trip from Arlington.

Steven failed to mention they were coming to “help.”

Evidently, ours was the third garden install of the day, and this church group was assigned the heavy labor to provide a superior spring break option other than starring roles in Girls Gone Wild South Padre.

Let me sum up their involvement: Twenty-three of them flirted while the other two sporadically tossed grass clods aside (which I retrieved and put in trash bags).  The event also included: water poured on heads, cheerleading moves practiced on trampoline, and one girl who sat in my living room with sweet tea because she was “overcome.”

I fully remember why we quit youth ministry.

I literally shed tears laughing through this bit.  I love students so much, but I have definitely had my share of experiences like this on “mission trips.”

I laughed a LOT while reading Jen’s book, which is helpful.  If I wrote a book about fasting from seven things for seven months, I would be in danger of increasing the suicide rate of readers.  (Or perhaps I just wouldn’t ever find a publisher.)

Jen’s power to make you laugh and her willingness to laugh at herself along the way make you want to throw your hat in with her.

She has me thinking that it might actually be fun, and that the life change it will work in my heart will just be a side benefit.

Share your thoughts? If you’ve read this book, I would love to hear what you thought about it!  If not, are you intrigued?  Does a creative consumer fast sound like something you might want to tackle or does it just sound crazy? 

The post Seven appeared first on Alison Chino.

My husband Taido, who we also like to call the Gearhead, owns these trekking poles for when he goes backpacking.  He is usually carrying a decent sized pack in the mountains, so the poles help take some of the weight off his knees and land his feet a little lighter in spite of his heavy load.

The kids love these poles.  They frequently claim one of them for day hikes even though they aren’t really carrying anything heavy.

They always start off on the trail, using the trekking pole as it was intended, placing it before each step ahead of them on the path.  However, soon their use of the trekking poles tends to degenerate into wielding it as some kind of a weapon or as a bushwacking tool.

Taido does not appreciate his fancy trekking poles being used in this way, so the boys usually end up losing the poles before the hike is over.

After a couple of hikes this year, Taido began to notice that the bottoms of his poles were quite beat up, even sort of smashed.  He asked if anyone was using the poles for jumping.

Boys, this trekking pole is not for pole vaulting.

Of course, no one admitted to using the pole in this way.

But when we got home and I uploaded my pictures, I found that I had some incriminating evidence on someone.

Whoops.

The post Hiking with Kids: Trekking Poles appeared first on Alison Chino.

One of my favorite parts of our girl cruise last year was dressing up for dinner.

At first I wondered what to wear to dinner on a cruise, but then we planned it all way ahead of time at our cruise meetings.

Also, I should mention that both Whitney and Sarabeth did a beautiful job covering our dinner attire on their blogs when we returned.

But it was so much fun that I love to look back at these pictures.  Also, Mary Polly has been going through past cruise pictures to plan what we will wear for her first cruise!

Let’s review, shall we?

Our first night on board was Feather Earring Night.

Wear whatever you want, as long as it goes with feather earrings.  Skeeter won the award for the longest feather earrings!  Go Skeeter! (bottom right)

Next up was Hat Night.

Big hats, fascinators and headpieces of every kind.  As long as you are laughing, you look great in a hat!

We went all out on the ship’s official dressy night with Little Black Dresses, Feather Boas and Tiaras.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you whose idea the boas were. (Ahem, Stormy.)

Maxi Dress night.

Before the cruise, there were lots of discussions about how maxi dresses got their name and on how tall you have to be to wear a maxi dress.  But after we spent our day on the beach in Cozumel rolling around in the sand and getting a wee bit sunburned, everyone was glad to be wearing long comfy dresses!

Our last night on board was Short Dress night.

My dress might have been the shortest.  Whoops.  That was unintentional.  I’ve since passed that dress down to Mary Polly.

This is the sixth in a series of posts about a super fun birthday cruise that was planned by my friends, Sarabeth and Rhonda.  Read the the other parts here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5.

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The post What to Wear to Dinner on a Cruise appeared first on Alison Chino.