How many blog posts does it take to exhaust me to the point of needing a two week vacation? Apparently three. It wasn't even so much that I was exhausted as that I was crazy busy. Feel bad for me? I was busy getting ready for a one week trip to California. Feel bad for me now? It was my second trip to California of the year. How bout now? I thought that it was ok to miss the first week because I was overwhelmed with getting things packed and making sure that the people and pets that I was leaving here would have what they needed while I was gone and I had a belief that I would spend time on my vacation writing. That belief turned out to be ridiculous. Actually, ridiculous may be the running theme of my two trips to the coast.
On my first trip I flew to San Francisco to pick up my two oldest grandchildren and bring them back here for the summer. We, along with my daughter Sam and her husband Lucia, spent the day in beautiful Golden Gate Park. Our first stop was an old carousel that we thought the kids would be delighted to ride, but as they climbed onto the ride they looked back at us with less than joyful looks on their faces.
Me: They don't seem thrilled.
Sam: They've seen Mary Poppins enough times to know that this could get weird real quick.
Me: They're probably thinking "Hey, don't Dick Van Dyke us around, we know what's gonna
happen".
People around us: Eye rolls.
Ridiculous.
Later we walked up a path that led to a large pond. When the water first came into view the kids took of running toward it and a bench at it's edge where four people were sitting.
Me: Stay away from them; they're fishing.
Now this would seem like a logical and polite thing to instruct the kids to do except for the fact that they were not fishing and there was nothing going on that would lead me to believe that they were. Apparently I just came to this conclusion in a part of my brain that has no connection with reality. At this point the four people have turned around and are looking at me like I am the crazy person that I apparently am. I felt ridiculous, so in an effort to not draw further attention to myself I begin laughing like a hyena. A very loud hyena. We walked along the water and thankfully got to a point where they can no longer see us and then realized that the waterfall which was our destination requires us to go back the way from which we just came.
Me: I don't want to walk back past those people.
Sam: You hang out with people whom you've made a fool of yourself in front of all the time.
I can't argue with that and start walking. When we get close to the bench the foursome gets up and leaves. I'd like to think that this was their plan before they saw me returning, but I can't prove it.
Ridiculous.
There is a couple sitting at the next bench that we walk past.
Me: Happy birthday.
Woman on bench: Thank you.
Sam and Lucia: Looks of WTF.
Me: What? She had a gift bag sitting on the ground between her feet that said Happy Birthday.
Lucia: Oh, I just thought you had fully commited to being crazy.
Not ridiculous.
At dinnertime we made our way to The Beach Chalet, a restaurant located above the Golden Gate Park Visitor's Center. The center was closed, but the lobby features frescos by artist Lucien Labaudt done during the 1930's that were absolutely fantastic.
Before we went to dinner, Sam and I got out at the beach to take a picture of me pointing a my "lady lounge"while standing next to a sign that said "People Swimming And Wading Have Drowned Here".
Ridiculous (but hilarious)
As we were walking to the sign we noticed a man pulling a wagon inside which there was a pug. I thought that would make a cute (read ridiculous) picture, so I asked the man if we could take one. Quick as you please he flung down the wagon handle and scurried up next to us.
Man: You can take a picture of my dog. Not me. (read: I have warrants)
Now the picture seems less ridiculous and not that funny but we are obligated to take it and, it seems, to have a conversation with this man.
Sam: You're gonna spoil that dog. (laughing)
Man: (In a bit of a huff) He can't walk. He is paralyzed from the waist (we never did see a waist)
down. He is twelve years old and is a four year cancer survivor. He's been through more
than most people. Urgh!!!
Sam and I both know lots of people who have been through some pretty awful things, but not knowing what this camera-shy probable felonious dog lover was wanted for we decided not to argue.
The man continued to talk, a lot, as Lucia and the kids gave us dirty looks from where they were waiting, and waiting, in the car. Finally the dog barked (kind of) and I saw an opportunity to encourage our new found friend to be on his way.
Me: Looks like he's ready to continue his walk. (Meaning "pick up the wagon and pull your
wretched dog out of our lives)
Man: (Angry and yelling) I TOLD YOU HE'S PARALYZED! HE CAN'T WALK!!!!!!
Man storms off.
Ridiculous (the story, not the picture which was supposed to be ridiculous)
When Lucia come out from booking a room at the hotel after dinner he was beaming.
Lucia: They gave me an upgrade because I'm military.
Me: What is it? A hot tub? A muffin basket? A masseuse?
Lucia: A kitchen.
Well, isn't that the bee's knees. He must know that as far as I'm concerned no vacation is complete until I've cooked or washed some dishes!
Ridiculous.
I showered and got in bed, exhausted, and fell asleep while everyone else got cleaned up and went for ice cream. It was some time later that Sam woke me up to tell me that I was snoring. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
The next morning I awoke and looked over at the bed where Sam and Lucia should have been. They were not there. Nothing was there except the fitted sheet........and the kitchen door was closed. I tried to pretend that maybe they were in there cooking up some breakfast and wanted it to be a surprise. Or maybe after spending the day in a beautiful city they were feeling romantic and wanted some private time. Even the possibility that they were being held behind the kitchen door by crazed kidnappers who had mistaken our family for one who could or would pay a ransom crossed my mind. But I was pretty sure that the truth was much, much worse. This was confirmed about an hour later when Sam emerged from the kitchen.
Sam: I know why HUM (see previous blogs) hasn't called to profess his undying love for you.
YOU SNORE LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN!
Apparently when they woke me and told me I was snoring, I rolled over and went back to sleep, not making a sound for the next hour and a half while they watched television. Then, as soon as they turned the tv off and the lights out I started back up.....loudly.
There was talk of a plan to use a device made of a toilet paper roll stuffed with toilet paper and secured to my face with hair ties to muffle me. It had also been decided that on our trip to Tahoe in July they would pick an unsuspecting victim, buy him shot after shot and while they were getting him drunk they would regale him with stories of the fabulous blow jobs that I give thus ensuring that I would spend the night snoring in his room and not theirs!
So my son-in-law and pregnant daughter ended up sleeping on the kitchen floor. Thank goodness he's military and got that upgrade.
Ridiculous.
When they took Maggie, Ryker and me to the airport Lucia took the black bag that had their clothes for summer and checked it along with their car seats. The flight from San Francisco to Chicago was uneventful but even so, by the time we landed I was exhausted and still had to drive three hours to get home. We got to the baggage carousel and the plastic bag with the two car seats came around. It was awkward but I grabbed it without incident. Then the black bag came toward me. I grasped the handle and lifted. Nothing happened. It didn't seem heavy when Lucia checked it in but apparently he has more upper body strength than I gave him credit for. I let go of the bag and on it went back for another lap at baggage claim. I pondered whether the kids could get by with the clothes that they were wearing for the entire summer, and decided that I better give it one more shot. This time I was prepared and managed to drag the two ton bag off the carousel and onto the floor. However, I still had to get this bag, two car seats and my bags across the airport, onto a train and through a parking lot to my car. Oh yea, and two kids. I hollered at the kids to follow me with their bags and I drug the car seats and that fucking black bag over to the machine that dispenses luggage carts. I procured one and piled the bag, the car seats and my bag onto it.
Maggie and Ryker: Should we put our bags on top?
Me: NO! Carry them and head that way.
So we make our way to the elevator. We go up to the floor we need, walk across to another area and then take an elevator down to the area where we will catch the train to the parking lot. As the door opens the first thing I see is a sign.
Sign: NO LUGGAGE CARTS ON TRAIN
Ridiculous (and possibly disasterous)
Seriously, I'm screwed. I gather the kids around me.
Me: When the train comes and the doors open you guys need to get yourselves and your bags on board.
They both nod at me solemnly and when the train arrives they do just as they've been told. I manage to fling the car seats onto the train and drag the bag in just as the doors close. At the moment when I'm feeling like we are going to make it, at least to the car, without incident I hear:
Ryker: (to anyone on the train who will listen) Maggie has three dads but I only have two.
Compassionate stranger to me: Don't worry honey, you'll never see any of us again.
Ridiculous.......the next generation.
