When I first started my week of summer vacation, it did not start well. We left home much later than we thought we would. Even though I worked from home on Friday, I ended up working 11 hours, trying to get everything that needed to be done, done.
So I was up at 5:00 a.m. on Saturday, and after feeding that cats, worked on finishing the running club newsletter. After Tom left around 7:00 for the Saturday morning run, I went into high gear, frantically wrangling dust buffalo so it would be presentable for the person who was staying there to take care of the cats (and her brother, who will be visiting tomorrow and Saturday). Beds were stripped, linens washed, furniture dusted, floors vacuumed, baseboards dusted... And it all seemed to get done extremely slowly. To be sure, some of the dust buffalo were a bit recalcitrant about being wrangled. And the dryer was being extremely persnickety about actually drying clothes, requiring two or three cycles before all was dry. But finally, all was done; I packed in about 30 minutes, and we were on our way (and I only forgot one thing!).
The drive down to my parents' house was relatively uneventful, but we hit traffic around Williamsburg and I started to panic. We had dinner reservations for 6:00 (to celebrate my mother's birthday) in Suffolk and our ETA at my parents' was 5:30, which left exactly the amount of time it would take to get to the restaurant. And we still had to get into our fancy eating clothes.
We arrived at our destination at 5:22, grabbed our suitcases from the car, and presto change-o, we changed into our dinner garb. My parents had to take my niece back home and my nephew and his girlfriend were going to ride with them. We'd have no problem finding the restaurant, because I had the address and would put it in the spiffy navigation system.
And that's when technology failed me...in a big way.
The street address was not recognized by the navigation system. No problem...I'd get directions from the Internet using my Bberry Storm. I entered the address and then (this was the first of my mistakes), second-guessed the system. It said follow Rt. 17 for n miles, and there you were. But we were going to Suffolk. And that's not the way to Suffolk.
So we followed the signs to Suffolk, went through it, and then were back in the country. No problem; I'd call the restaurant. I couldn't get through, and when I did, a message said they weren't available to take my call. My panic is mounting...it's now 6:00. My nephew was sending me text messages. I looked up the directions again and then got something that seemed to be a little more correct, but very confusing (lots of turns). My dad called wondering where the heck we were. We had gone too far, we needed to get back to Rt. 17 because that's where the restaurant was. I was incredulous since that wasn't the address. So Tom, driving like the wind and probably more than a little annoyed at me, successfully navigated us to the restaurant.
Needless to say, we both had a stiff drink (or two) and fortunately, a most excellent dinner. But we were about 20 minutes late. I can highly recommend the Vintage Tavern. If you're in the area, check it out.
We left my parents' around 2:00 the next day and arrived at the beach house around 4:00. My brother-in-law and his girlfriend provided barbecue for dinner, which was very good. And then the week at the beach was in full swing.
It's been hot down here, in the 90s, with the wind coming off the land. The flies bite in the afternoon, and the water is freezing (probably because we've had a very cool summer up to this point). There's been some knitting (but not as much as I thought there'd be), some work work (yeah, I know), and long hours of sitting on the beach, reading. I've made my way through Anne of Windy Poplars (next vacation P.E.I?), Don't Ask (a Dortmunder novel; delightfully improbable and zany), and The Secret Life of Bees, which I read from start to finish, today.
The family attendance is a bit diminished this year. Larry had to leave early to go back to work; the nieces came late and one left early; Steve arrived last night without his wife, because their son is still in the hospital, fighting off various infections after having undergone a second bone marrow transplant for aplastic anemia. That situation is a little desperate and heart-breaking (you might hear more from me on that later in the year, if he recovers).
So, tomorrow is the last day. Tom's sister and her family will be leaving tomorrow, leaving just three of us here. It's been one of the most discombobulated trips to the beach ever. But even so, a discombobulated vacation is better than a good day at work!