Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Vacations aren't for wimps
Now that we are home, I can look back on our vacation and say "What were we thinking?!?!". We didn't over pack (just made it as far as laundry goes). All of our arrangements worked out fine or better. But really, the three of us are not made to travel together. My idea of a vacation is sipping umbrella drinks by the pool as a cabana boy waits on me hand and foot. DD's perfect getaway would involve lots of swimming and video games. And dh? Well he wants things planned every single minute. He won't dress up as my cabana boy, or consider giving me a foot massage a "planned event" either. But it's easy for him. I plan where we are going that day. I pack what we will need there and arrange maps for the route. I tell him each and every turn and exit, where to park, etc. While we are there I have to decide what we are doing when and in what order. What and when we will eat. When we will leave. Then of course, direct him back to where we started. He is pretty much along for that ride. And dd of course comes along, kicking and screaming. When we get back and I collapse in a chair, he doesn't understand why I look so tired. Good thing I don't have enough energy after one of these outings to lob something REALLY heavy at him. Three days of that in a row (add in the high heat, my not feeling well, DD's reluctance to leave the hotel pool, and long long lines) and I was done like a dinner. We are talking sobbing in bed type done. My feet were so sore I couldn't stand them. And my legs. MY LEGS! Don't get me started on my legs. I blew a calf muscle two days into the vacation and limped the rest of the time. Nice big juicy bruise too. When dh complained about my gimpiness I would point to my leg and say "talk to the contusion, mister". But, I will say this. Thanks to my spanking new cool-max socks, I did not get a SINGLE BLISTER. Normally my feet are hamburger on the first day. Sure they still hurt, but they were blisterless. Anybody want seven dollars worth of unopened blister bandages? My earth shoe sandals? Well, they are very comfie and have good arch support. Such good arch support that after the first bit I felt like I was standing on a roll of pennies. Ouch. Not so good! When you have sensitive feet it is not a good idea to get ergonomically correct shoes for long outings when your feet are used to dollar store tennies with soles thinner than paper and no support at all. Just so you know. Also, it is not a good idea to wear a pink tank top with a shelf bra if you are largely endowed and might get soaked on a water ride. Because the straps will stretch and show more cleavage than you want, and the colour will match your skin tone so well people will do double takes thinking you are topless then realize that they are just seeing TOO much cleavage in a wet pink tank top, and wet pink tank tops are see through for quite some time after getting wet. Did you get all that? Alhough I will admit that the shelf bra creates somewhat of an extra storage pocket for things like sunglasses and theme park maps and cans of pringles. Is that gentleman staring because he is enjoying the wet pink view, or is he coveting the pringles? We may never know. Another thing. Wet skin, sunscreen, and theme park maps combine to create a chemical reaction that will lift the printing off the paper and imbed it permanently into the flesh of your cleavage. For the rest of the trip, no amount of scrubbing with soap will remove all of it. I still have my own "Magic Kingdom" on my left breast. Perhaps I will consider it a cheap tattoo souvineer and leave it be. Not! Also, if you insist on pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you just might get a triangle shaped sunburn on your forehead remniscent of a widow's peak. No matter how much sunscreen you put on that spot, it will get darker and darker and darker and family members will comment on it and strangers will stare at you. But to distract them, you can always yank down your wet pink tank top and say "Want to see Fantasy Land?". Tee hee! Shhhhhh. New knitting. Don't tell the sweater. This is the middle square of a baby blanket that I should have finished in Florida. Did not happen, my friends. So now I am knitting lickity split trying to finish it in time. I may need to create a rip in the time-space-continuum to accomplish this. It is very complicated, involving math equations, expiring warranties and possibly fake food like froot loops. Be afraid, be very afraid.