Monday, July 20, 2009

Back from vacation. Back to the grind.

After ten days of:

Driving, eating crap road food (if I never see another goddamned Cracker fucking Barrel again I will die a happy woman), sleeping until a whopping 8am, jetskiing, lake swimming, tubing, beach-going, eating grilled steaks and shrimp perfectly inebriated in their beery bath, meeting for the first time friends I've known for years, staying in a fabulous resort, hitting 2 Disney parks in 2 days, being schooled in the ways of fastpass-ology, riding the monorail, taking exhausted but heavenly dips in the pool after returning from the parks at 1am, and hitting the hot tub before bed, finishing 2 books and an audio book, logging 2400 + miles and a work week's worth of hours on the road...

We are home.

If you read the above and it sounds like something that would induce a psychotic break in the most catatonic person, I understand. My idea of vacation is this: You rent a house within walking distance to the beach. You drive there. You park the vehicle and it doesn't move again for an entire week. You walk around your little beach town, boogie board and beach towel in tow, and finish each night with beers on the screened-in porch. So, as you can imagine, when that orgy of driving and constantly being on the move was proposed to me, I cringed. However, it was wonderful. (Except for goddamned Cracker fucking Barrel.) We spent time with family and friends. We spent a ton of time together. Everyone got along great. (There was one incident with the GPS that I won't detail except to say it almost ended up shoved forcibly into my beloved's grocery exit hole.) One such incident in 2400 miles of driving and 2 huge theme parks is tolerable - even unprecedented, you might say.

And, best of all, the look in the eyes of my 14 year old dog as I lay on the living room floor in front of her. She hasn't heard me come in and isn't aware of my presence... yet. Then the white-speckled muzzle turns toward me. The cloudy eyes open, slowly, and focus. They widen in recognition and joy. Suddenly, exuberance. Loud barks and yaps. It's quite a sight - 85lbs of arthritic joy hauling herself laboriously off of the floor to run back and forth across the living room in celebration. So good to be home.

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