Hey, Honey, Did You Pack the Montezuma's Revenge Reverser?

Some folks are vexed about global warming, others have their minds on skyrocketing gas prices and other economic issues… and rightly so.  On my cognitive days, I, too, have also fleetingly pondered the world outside the confines of my little village existence.  Lately, though, I must admit those thoughts have been purged from my mind and I am channeling my energies towards summer vacation.  Visions of walking 12 steps (or less) from the hotel room to the beach, lounging in my cabaña, sipping on a never-ending stream of foo-foo umbrella drinks, having my shoulders gently massaged by Stefano, Antonio and/or Giacomo (a girl can dream) and reading all the trashy magazines I can is, I must admit, where my mind seems to want to wander.  Since it does so much for me over the course of the year, I suppose I should allow for these momentary mental distractions.

As enticing as the end product may be, it’s just the thought of preparing for this relaxing holiday delight that is wearing me out.  If the logistics of walking out the door to catch the “what seemed like a good idea at the time of booking the 6AM flight”, remembering the sunscreen, the cute sandals bought for the occasion, the kid and activities for said kid, the stockpiled trashy magazines and leaving the house the way you want to return to it (extends the vacation a bit when you get home if you don’t have to clean… doing vacation laundry is bad enough to snap you back into reality) wasn’t stressful enough, there is the pre-planning.

Stop mail, check.  Suspend newspaper delivery, check.  Drink all opened bottles of wine, so as to not go bad, check.  Alert neighbors of departure, check.  Ask diligent and responsible friend to water plants, check.  Find 4-star accommodations for furry friends and buy the big bag of dog food, check.  Toss refrigerator science projects, check.  Time garbage take out, check.  Pack glasses for reading and masseuse viewing, check.  Launder all clothes to have optimal choice when packing, check.  Purchase mass quantities of Montezuma’s revenge reverser, check.  Organize time-line for spousal unit, child and self to converge for departure, check.

In our family, we tend to divide and conquer the chores.  The love muffin is in charge of planning, mapping-out, booking and confirming the get away; I am in charge of the rest.  Seems fair and I am not complaining, well, maybe a little.  His job finishes up months before we go and mine kicks into gear two weeks prior.  He is eager, excited and energized to head off into the sunset.  I am dragging, slightly edgy and worried how my hair will fair in 300% humidity.

Always keeping the prize in sight, the 266 days of anticipation, the anxieties, the worry and sleepless “night before you leave” melt away into the 6.25 days of glorious freedom from the daily grind.  Experienced vacationers can get into the swing and arrange for their masseuse within hours of arrival, maximizing full vacation potential.

As we enter into the summer season, with school out and the kids hovering about, know that any vacation is a good vacation, even if you stay at home. Keep in mind that people pay good money to come to visit where we live all the time… and I hear that Antonio makes house calls, just in case you were wondering.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-