Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Nee Walthers



Liz and I recently joined several of my brother Mark and new sister-in-law Danita's friends and family in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, thus checking the last North American country off our list. Which, since we were born in the U.S., means we'd previously been to Canada. No small feat for people born in Minnesota. We're pretty worldly.

The wedding was at the Barcelo Maya Palace, a beautiful all inclusive resort complex on the Mayan Riviera. Everything was landscaped perfectly, the ocean and pools were aesthetically pleasing, and the staff were well trained at hiding their disdain for decadent, boorish Gringos. A typical day involved a civilized wake up time followed by a light breakfast of literally anything you could imagine and some kiddie pool time with Nathan and Josie, who as you can see, were dangerously close to surpassing the maximum level of adorableness allowable under Mexican law.




Then we'd do lunch, followed by activities ranging from poolside lounging to beachside lounging to fruity drink drinking, to trying to keep this mustachioed, fannypack packing, aqua sock wearing probable child molester away from the kids...


One day we even played two holes of pitch and putt and one hole of mini golf. Exhausting. We'd have dinner in small groups or all together; we had a great time hanging out with/meeting Danita's friends and relatives.

The ceremony and reception were very well done--maintaining the perfect balance between beachy casualness and lifelong commitment making gravitas. Not wanting to screw up my first and likely last best man speech, I was a little nervous. I'd concocted a story about wanting to honor our host country by giving my toast in Spanish, but not having been a Spanish speaker I'd written down some simple heartfelt wishes and had a coworker translate them for me. I then read a recipe for chicken mole I'd pulled off the Foodnetwork website and stuck into Google translate. The reception waiters said they could understand "a little" of what I said. I then went on to say that having my speech translated by a guy who hates me was probably a bad idea, but that I meant to say "May no one build a fence upon the border between your hearts. May your family operate with the ruthless loyalty to one another of a vicious drug cartel. And may the love and laughter in your lives be all inclusive." Touching in its borderline offensiveness, I thought. After some dancing and roboting at the reception, we moved the party to the much anticipated Jaguar (pronounced YAHG-you-are) Discotheque for some scantily clad go-go dancers, smoke machines, roboting, and general buffoonery.








On the day we left and had to leave, however, I woke up with something. To call this thing a hangover would be like calling a case of Ebola "a little bug I picked up." I swear it was sentient--teasing me with brief periods of hinting that it was letting up only to come back with renewed malevolence. It felt like Satan spawning demons in my brain. I sweated and shivered in rapid oscillations; every step felt as if my legs were in serious danger of giving out; my jaw ached for some reason (see previous sentence for a possible explanation); my heart beat irregularly; every breath had to be a conscious decision; I felt like I could barf at any minute yet I had the full knowledge that I wouldn't. Sleep was impossible since every time I closed my eyes for more than 20 seconds I felt like my heart might stop. Eating or even drinking more than an ounce of water? When our plane hit turbulence over the gulf of Mexico I thought "Well, if the plane goes down at least this whatever-you-call-it would be over." It was the culmination of five straight all-inclusive nights followed by poolside dog hair. Next time, partially inclusive might be a better option. With God as my witness, never again. Liz felt too bad for me to even say I told you so. Finally, 12 hours later in the Boston airport, I felt like I might just survive. We got home and I debated whether or not to check my email, foolishly did, and found out I had to be at a nine A.M. meeting with Alzheimer's disease collaborators an hour's drive away (through ~5 inches of fresh snow) at Harvard. Oh well, might as well rip the band-aid off quickly I figured. In hindsight, several of my symptoms might have been caused by the minor case of travelers diarrhea I had brewing, but Montezuma ain't got nothin' on Don Julio when it comes to vengeance.


Monday, January 3, 2011

Over the river and thru the woods and along the interstate and thru the tollbooths...

New Englanders would never try to attempt a 24 hour cross country drive to attend a family Christmas. Heck, most of the people from Massachusetts have never been to Maine!! We Shervas have not become soft, and to prove so, we decided to drive home to Minnesota for the holidays. The drive took us about 24 hours. We drove straight through from Boston to Anoka only stopping for gas, bathroom breaks and coffee. Our drive to MN was pretty uneventful, there was very heavy fog in Indiana but we were able to just take our time and maneuver through without incident. I have to say, Ohio, you've got lovely turnpike reststops. I love having the option of Panera and Starbucks instead of having to go to a McDonalds. Indiana, seriously, Gary already sucks and people hate it. Could you finish up your road construction and fill your potholes. Are you trying to strand people there? You have the worst stretch of road in the 1400 miles we drove.

Phoebe loves to snooze in the driver's lap.

While in town we helped my sister Kris celebrate her 30th birthday. You really start to feel old when your younger siblings pass the 30 mark.

Following tradition, Christmas Eve was spent at my Aunt Colleen and Uncle Dick's house. We look forward to her homemade french onion soup every year....mmmm....

Cousins!

Helping Colleen in the kitchen.

Opening presents with Grandma Donna.

Christmas Day we had brunch with the Sherva/Hamann side of the family at Nancy's house. Rick received a new hunting hat. Very Elmer Fudd...


We also were able to spend time with my Grandma Jan and Papa Benny at my mom's house. That is where we had our ham course for the day. MMmmmmm, ham.

Aren't these two cute!!



We tried to see as many people as possible, but of course there is never enough time. I'm glad to say that we got some great quality time in with our nieces and nephews. They are seriously the cutest kids. I'm not saying that because I'm biased. They are seriously better than all of your kids. Here's a little photo montage to prove it:



Emma and Josie in the aprons I sewed for them.

Emma is already developing a keen fashion sense. I caught her trying to steal my boots!



She also enjoys working on complex science problems with Uncle Rick while drinking chocolate milk.



Emma loves hanging out with Reilly, she copies everything he does...




Reilly is 8 and loves playing hockey. I was able to see his goalie skills in action.



Nathan on Christmas morning, not entirely feeling the best but looking very festive in his jammy jams.



Nathan and Josie get along pretty well and are great at sharing.



We seemed to slack a bit on Christmas Day with the camera. No worries, you'll see more of these two cutie pahtooties soon. We'll be headed to Mexico for Mark and Danita's wedding in a couple weeks where Josie and Nathan will be living it up at our all inclusive resort ordering a non-stop flow of Cheerios and chocolate milk while floating in the pool. They've got their passports and are ready to party.

Phoebe's favorite Christmas present was not the ZhuZhu pet that I thought she would chase around the house but this box from Costco.



My favorite surprise of the season was our upside-down Christmas Tree that Rick created for me.




Happy New Year!