In Part 1 of the Travelin’ Weenie series, I introduced you to the preparations this family goes through before setting out on a vacation. (And by “this family,” I mean me.) In the next chapter of the series, we dig deeper into the delicate art of neurotic air travel… I bring two bags on every trip. The bag with all my clothing, makeup, toiletries, rain gear, shoes, etc. is checked through, and I carry the other one onboard with me. Despite being weighed at home on the bathroom scale, my checked bag was a few pounds over the 50-pound limit. Thus was I forced to endure the withering stares of the holier-than-thou light-packer set as I moved two sweatshirts and a toiletry kit the size of a small raft into Mr. Weenie’s bag. (This is why I never pack undies or Tampax on top.) While Mr. Weenie’s carryon bag consisted of a toy poodle and iPod, mine contained enough supplies to set up a small base camp at the foothills of Everest. You may think I’m kidding, but I do not joke about carryon luggage. Here’s what I bring with me on the plane when I travel: Blow-up neck pillow,…

After landing at the Denver airport, picking up our embarrassing mountain of luggage from the baggage carousel and renting a car, the Weenies were off on their Colorado extravaganza. Supposedly the first leg of our long drive through the Rockies was quite beautiful. I know this because Mr. Weenie told me so. Apparently I’d fallen asleep about ten minutes into our two-week journey, thanks to my inflight cocktail of Xanax and Dramamine. As I awakened from my drug-induced coma somewhere near Cripple Creek, we decided to stop for sustenance; and by sustenance, I mean potato chips and powdered sugar doughnuts. So there we were—making our way around snowcapped mountains and winding rivers, all hopped up on trans fats and corn syrup. Unfortunately, even the refreshing breeze of the largest mountain chain in North America couldn’t overcome the stench of a certain foul-breathed poodle who’d just spent three hours in a bag stuffed under a seat. All I could do was thank the gods for Febreeze and cover his head with a map. Traveling with a dog is both fun and challenging. Getting Dexter to eat and drink by the side of the road was a poor choice, so we gave…

Day two of the Weenies’ excellent adventure began with a visit to the Royal Gorge. In addition to its spectacular plunge of over 1,000 feet to the Arkansas River below, the Royal Gorge’s sheer cliff walls support the world’s largest suspension bridge. Even more impressive than the bridge itself was the fact that I had cell service from just outside the park gates. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s possible when I regularly drop calls on the way to my sister’s house in west Austin. While the circus surrounding this national treasure reminded me of a geologically-themed amusement park, and the entry fee for the two of us sounded as steep as the rock walls beyond the front gate, Mr. Weenie insisted it was worth the price. Keep in mind that I was traveling with the Clark Griswold of the Weenie family. As I stood there envisioning a $50, 30-second, head-nodding peek at the gorge from atop a very large bridge, a generous old codger handed us a six dollar discount coupon (which coincidentally, was the exact price of a funnel cake). Decision made. Having paid for the experience, we decided to take full advantage of all the…

After our exciting morning at the Royal Gorge, the Weenie family arrived in Pagosa Springs, which would be home base for the next week. Our condo was perfectly located in close proximity to some of southern Colorado’s most beautiful hiking. That said, our first full day in Pagosa was spent sleeping. Literally. We slept until noon-ish, ate, napped, napped again, had dinner and went to bed around 8:30. The real adventure in Pagosa Springs began the next day, when Dexter and I set out on our first hike. The weather was a bit cloudy and cool as we went outside to explore the neighborhood. After winding our way through the area, we came upon a quaint gravel path leading to yet another set of condos. Beyond that there was a small beaver pond I was hoping to reach before the weather turned. About a minute later when the skies opened, Dexter and I decided to head back home. Now, I’m not known for my keen sense of direction, so it’s generally a good idea to assume my internal compass points the opposite way from where you’d want to go. Bearing that in mind, I had three choices: (1) Go the…

Unlike our usual vacations where we eat out for virtually every meal, the Weenies decided to prepare most of our own while in Colorado. Now this probably sounds like a completely normal thing to do for most people, but in case you haven’t noticed, the Weenies are not most people. You see, even when we’re at home we rarely make dinner together. For one thing, Bill and I don’t eat the same foods (he’s the steak to my tofu), so we usually end up having completely different meals at completely different times. I may get hungry at 6:00, whereas his dinner might consist of Whataburger taquitos at 1:00 a.m. So to say we were a bit out of our element would be an understatement. Since one of us had to stay in the car with Dexter T. Poodle while the other went into the grocery store, much of the decision making was left to the shopper. This explains why we had spaghetti, fruit and veggies in the basket when I did the shopping; while when Bill was in charge, there was an abundant supply of cookies and cinnamon rolls in the pantry. The first meal we prepared was spaghetti with…