Hello everyone! It is (mostly) good to be back. Thank you for your loyal readership while I was gone, even with nothing new to view.
We’ve been home for six days, and I think I’m (mostly) back into the swing of things. Laundry’s done, menu is made (and followed!), house is staying (mostly) clean, and sister’s ex has resumed his harassing phone calls. Yup, life is back to normal.
I know you’re dying to hear about all our fun vacation stories (about as much as you’re looking forward to surgery without anesthesia, I’m sure), so I’m only going to tell you a few things. And I’ll sprinkle in lots of photos, which I’m sure you’re also excited about. (You know, it’s better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick. I promise.) The best part of our trip was, we got away from the craziness of home (that includes you, sister’s ex, and you, Brent from Countrywide), we got to reconnect as a couple and as a family, and I got to take a jacuzzi bath every single day.
My priorities are totally out of whack. I understand this. *grin*
We left Friday night, July 18, and drove for about an hour to get to Midway, where our condo was located. Midway, Utah is this darling little town that was settled by Swiss immigrants, and the city celebrates its heritage by making everything look cute and European. (Think gingerbread houses.) Not only were a lot of the houses GINORMOUS, like these huge estates on acres and acres of land, they were decorated with wooden shutters and painted to look like quaint little cottages you could totally see nestled into the foothills of the Alps. Kenny and I were in love. Even the kids started pointing out the different homes, and the features they liked best.
When we actually got INTO the condo, I was in heaven. It was beautiful and immaculate, and I was sorry to have to unload our bags into the orderliness. I may have even started yelling at everyone to get their belongings out of my camera shot, so I could take “good” pictures, but I can’t really remember. It doesn’t sound like me. *whistling innocently*
The deck. Oh, the deck. I was reading the promo sheet on the way up, telling the kids about all the amenities that were included. “Washer and dryer in unit, full kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, sleeper sofa, private deck, BBQ grill…”
“Private DECK?” screamed Hannah. And from that point on, it was known as “the PRIVATE deck”. Whenever Hannah went missing, we knew to look for her on the (say it with me) “private deck”. She would come and tell me she was going shopping, and whisper that she would really be on the “private deck”. She wanted to eat her meals out there, sleep out there, get dressed out there, drag a TV out there… she felt like it should be hers and hers alone. Oh, and if anyone mistakenly referred to it a “deck”, she was quick to correct them, hands on her hips and full of attitude. “You mean, PRIVATE deck? Because that’s what it is.”
Have you met my daughter? The tiny wonder who is four-going-on-fourteen?
While we were up there, we watched the full Star Wars saga (Alex is now a raving fan) and several other movies (have you seen Penelope? You should!), played at some really fun parks (there were four within five minutes of our condo, so we visited three of them), went swimming at the pool, did some swimming in the jacuzzi tub, played games way too late into the night, slept in, napped when we were tired (even me!), grilled on the “private deck”, ate in some really tasty restaurants, also ate in a yucky one that made us all feel sick, went fishing at Wasatch Mountain State Park, watched Wall-E (darling movie, but I cried at the end), and devoured several novels. I finished three in one week (!), and Kenny finished the “Twilight” trilogy. (And you thought I was a passionate fan…)
It would have been harder to come home had the kids not missed Skittles and Reeses so much. Plus, everyone was ready to sleep in their own beds. The worst part about leaving wasn’t the 10:00 AM check-out (do people not realize that you are on VACATION, and getting up at 7:00 AM to get things ready for your departure is not a cherry on the trip-memory sundae?); rather, it was the fact that Anthony lost his blankie somewhere in the condo. Rather than packing up and having a relaxing final night and early morning, we were packing up and frantically searching for a 16-inch square of yellow satin fabric with Winnie the Pooh embroidered on it. We searched room by room, drawer by drawer, nook and cranny, with no luck. We stripped the beds, removed the couch cushions, pushed furniture around, and still couldn’t find it. Oh, how he cried when everyone else had their blankets for the trip home.
I left a note on the table as we left, asking someone to please send it back to us if they found it. Can you believe that yesterday, as I was sorting through the mail, I noticed a large, flat envelope addressed to Anthony? An angel named Peggy found his blanket and mailed it back to us. In FIVE days… two of which were transit, and a third was a Sunday.
I could have kissed her. I really could have. I believe Anthony could have, as well. (And you can attribute the fuzzy pictures to HIM. The little stinker changed the settings on the camera… AGAIN, so I will have to figure out how to set them back… AGAIN.)
All things considered, it was a fantastic, sorely-needed vacation, but I’m glad to be home.
And screening my calls.