How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part III (Seriously?!?)

And now for the completion of your ridiculous vacation, I present to you these final nuggets of wisdom. If you're just tuning in, start at the painful beginning and slog through it in its entirety like the rest of us had to do.

We last left our family massacring beloved deer, ditching children and strolling along I-25. Let's see what kind of tomfoolery they're up to now.

Step Thirteen: Now that you have a gas can (you know, for emergencies...), fill 'er up and store it in the dancing cargo carrier next to your air mattress. Because if it's going to leak on something, you definitely want it to be on something that will be near your nostrils for eight hours.

Step Fourteen: Do something novel, like go garage sale-ing. Because we all know you can't buy used crap at home. 
P.S. The bowling ball was just too much for you to resist.

Step Fifteen: Decide that (since it's your anniversary), instead of camp fare, you'll eat at a nice sit-down restaurant. A nice romantic dinner for just the two of you. And two kids next to you. Oh and two more at the table behind you, because (apparently) you're a large family and they don't know quite how to seat you all together. No matter. You're confident that your children will not choose this moment to act like ruffians. Good grief. Are they running their spoons across the vertical blinds like old jailbirds? "No you may not put sugar on your spaghetti. Stop licking the chair. Your napkin is not a parachute. You have to go to the bathroom again?"

For Act II of your impromptu dinner show, how about you pinch the baby just as your meal arrives? Because nothing is more entertaining to foreign tourists than watching you eat drippy ravioli, while trying to maintain some dignity as you feed the youngest, whose actions suggest eating under a blanket is pure torture.
And also her foot belongs on your plate.

End with a rousing encore of "Let's go out to the van while Daddy pays the check" in which you will inadvertently activate the car alarm. With horn honking, lights flashing and baby crying you signal in vain through the window to your oblivious, keeper-of-the-keys husband who (though facing you) is tuned into the French table behind him and attempting to figure out if they are still discussing the half-witted, breastfeeding woman who is now waving...at...them...? Uhhh. Bonjour...? Cette Américaine folle...

Aaaand curtain. Oh, did I mention you did this all the while looking like absolute camp ragamuffins in an establishment that uses linen napkins? Just whatever. 

Step Sixteen: Arrive at your campground and flop onto your highly flammable mattress knowing that, through it all, you have been crazy-blessed with a beautiful, messy, ridiculous life and the precious moments over the past three weeks have been balm to your soul and sweet respite for your harried mind. 

And you would do it all again.

***We were so incredibly thrilled to be able to embark on such a memorable and leisurely trip! Every start was a rally and every stop was an adventure. From the sweet fellowship with adoption friends, to shucking corn in the great state of Nebraska. From the gentle rolling hills of Kentucky to the serene wooded lakes of Michigan. From the belly laughs with family to the sorrowful "goodbyes". Each day was filled to the brim with an abiding quiet. A hearty "Thank you" to the many friends and family we were able to see along the way. You made the hours in the van all worthwhile. Much love.***


With A Heart Full of Love and Gratitude,
Cynthia, her Professor and their wacky motley crew

How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part II

So where were we? Oh riiiiiiiight. Yodeling tie-downs, possessed children and Munchkin Land.

Step Seven: Since you've now learned to always stake the tent and affix the rainfly (you quick learner, you), it's time for a new camping lesson: Always put your shoes inside the tent at night. Not that wearing soggy sneakers for days on end isn't a TOTAL HOOT.

Step Eight: In your enthusiasm to create memories in Memphis, forget the obligatory "headcount". It's ten o'clock in the morning. Ergo, you should still have a few caffeine-infused brain cells ricocheting around in your skull. 

Your tour guide will be duly impressed with your stupidity. 

Step Nine: Plan to experience Chicago's famous deep dish pizza (Remember: You're a ridiculous tourist AND this is practically on your foodie bucket list AND you're practically a pizza connoisseur). Do this on the weekend, and be overconfident in your ability to navigate the city. Bonus points for making the rest of your party wait AN HOUR (bless him) while all of Chicago honks at you for driving like the idiot out-of-towner that you are.

Step Ten: In lieu of a touching bedtime story, try a traumatizing one like "Once upon a time an hour ago, Daddy had to shoot a suffering deer. And everyone lived happily ever after. Except the deer. To summarize: Daddy killed an innocent woodland creature. Sooo...goodnight..." 

That'll go over like a lead balloon.*

Step Eleven: Eat questionable food, because you like to live dangerously.** Someone's apologies to the fellow patrons of every available ladies powder room along I-80 from Iowa to Colorado. 

Moving right along.

Step Twelve: With forty miles worth of gas registering in the tank, decide you'll "just wait for the next gas station". Oh yes. Sixty miles later, coast to a nice easy stop. It's a good day for a walk. Fortunately, your dumb shoes are dry.***


To be continued once more...because some people are just that ridiculous.

Anonymous Vacationer strikes again!



*Cue weeping and wailing of caterwaulic proportions. In order to know your story has been effective, children should be one minuscule step away from rending their garments and tossing ashes on their precious, tow-headed noggins.
**Hey! For some of us, playing "Potty Roulette" is living dangerously. I can't do this with you right now.
***When in New Mexico, always top the tank off when you see a gas station. By doing this, you avoid getting picked up by a Good Samaritan who may or may not have been lucid enough to remember the event (however, we were grateful for the lift).

How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part I

Since I'm all about imparting such special wisdom to you, I have some doozies from someone's vacation. Of course ours went off without a hitch, but whoever those poor suckers are sure made for great blogging fodder.

Poor, poor suckers.

Step One: Begin by going south instead of north. This will add approximately 2-3 extra hours of travel time to your day. Oh joy.

Step Two: Observe that your hard-shell cargo carrier appears to be break dancing on the roof. Pull over. Everything is tight. Continue driving at a snail's pace (still going south) to avoid losing all your camping gear along I-17. Stop at Auto Zone. Buy tie-downs. Breathe a sigh of relief. Roll back onto the freeway only to discover that the tie-down straps have an amazing musical ability when traveling at freeway speeds.* Decide sanity is optional. Pull over again. Wrap towels around the frickin' frackin' straps, and drive like the ghetto minivan family that you are. Bath towels wrapped around tie-downs, wrapped around a cargo carrier. It's gettin' real, folks.

Step Three: Disbelieve the toddler who vehemently swears she "really has to go". I don't even know why I have to explain this.**

Step Four: Well past the time you should have arrived at your first campsite, instead find yourself handing the nice State Trooper your license and registration and thanking him for the fix-it ticket.*** 

Step Five: Upon finally arriving at the campsite, throw the tent up in the dead of night, not bothering to stake it because you are operating on sheer mental fumes at this point. Logic and reason went to sleep hours ago. Obviously. But don't worry. After a few hours you'll be rested enough to realize your tent is blowing away and your children think they're halfway to the Land of Oz. 

Step Six: Learn from your first night. Always stake the tent, but decide that the weather is beautiful. With nary a cloud in sight who needs a rainfly? Only people who don't appreciate drying off with bug-encrusted towels that have traveled 900 miles wrapped around screeching tie-downs.

To be continued...

Signed,
Anonymous Vacationer




*And by "musical" I mean something akin to a chorus of dying walruses with a screech owl thrown in the soprano section. Special.

**Toddler: 3 Pants: 0

***One look into our half-crazed, bloodshot eyes should have been cause enough to haul out the breathalyzer. If that didn't do it, the disgruntled tween who glared unblinkingly (think Children of the Corn, people) at him for shining a light in the backseat, or the other stupefied children in various stages of discombobulation oughtta been cause for at least a call for back-up. Jesus obviously cloaked our true appearance from him. 

You Know It's Time To Blog When...

...Your blogging notebook is dog-eared, but hardly anything is crossed off.
...It's practically been forever two months since you last had a date with Blogger.*
...Your mom resorts to calling you to see if you're OK.
...You're suffering from Blogger's Guilt Syndrome.**
...Friends send "Did you and Blogger break up?" messages to your inbox.
...You've missed reading the spammed comments on Friday nights.***
...Family members suggest Feedly is "defective", because nothing from you is showing up in their blog list.

So if that describes you, get off your duff and blog already.


Kettle Calling The Pot Black,
Cynthia



*My last date with Blogger did NOT end well. He swallowed my entire post and left me with the bill. Not very gentlemanly. Here's to second chances, buddy.
**If you or a loved one is suffering from BGS, seek help. Reach out to someone with Wi-Fi and overcome your BGS today!
***Seriously a highlight for us around here, folks. It doesn't take much.

Muddled Thoughts And Made-Up Words

I took a braincation.

I sent my brain on a vacation. It wasn't a glitzy destination with gobs of sightseeing and colorful memories. It was more of a gentle river ride, drifting to the whims of a lazy current; The details of which are easily forgettable, but the effects of which are far-reaching. I drifted from bank to bank, allowing refreshing waters to wash away grimy sludge. What's left behind are more pristine thoughts than the muddled quagmire I've been slogging through for the past few weeks.

It wasn't writer's block, it was writer's deluge. So very many thoughts and too few minutes left before the clock strikes midnight. With an overload of ideas, I short-circuited my own creativity. Not brilliant, I tell you.

So after a nice little trip down the lazy river, I've returned with less sludge, more clarity and a sweet tan.* My thanks and admiration to you dear readers for indulging my fancies. 



Blessings,
Cynthia


*If I'm going to get tanned on my braincation, you'd better believe it won't be one of those burn-and-then-peel-back-to-pasty-white jobs. 

The One Where You Thought I Ditched You

Did you feel that little lurch last week? It was the world stopping on its axis. You see, I unintentionally took a week off from blogging (cue Home Alone scream). The Professor had a week off from both jobs and we had waaaaaay too much fun! We started off with a bang: We all got sick. Thankfully, all of my immune-boosting activities for the children* paid off, and we were back to normal our normal selves soon enough.

Here area few lessons from my blogging vacation:

1. A movie featuring the Easter bunny, Santa, the tooth fairy, Sandman and Jack Frost can surprisingly offer some meaningful talking points with the kiddos. Rise of the Guardians had little to offer our children. Did I mention we don't do the whole Santa-Easter bunny-tooth fairy ballyhoo? You take that away from the plot and you're pretty much left with diddly-squat. However, we had plenty to talk about, and it didn't sound like this: "You see children, that is why Santa isn't real. And remember Jesus trumps the Easter Bunny. Repeat after me. Tooth fairies are ridiculous and imaginary. Tooth fairies are ridiculous and imaginary. Good girls."**

2. It's important to communicate the day's order of events to my husband so as to not drive 30 minutes on the wrong freeway. 

3. It doesn't matter how many times I go to Ikea, I will never be able to push their stupid carts and I will always feel like a rat in a giant Swedish showroom maze. 

4. Watching my daughter engage a little boy in an impromptu spitting contest was both comical and disturbing.***

5. It's important to take the fishing licenses with you when at the lake.

6. Fishing can be rewarding without a single nibble.

7. The safest way to fish with a toddler is to remove the hook and just let them cast a weighted line in the water. She was none the wiser and everyone on the fishing dock breathed a little easier. 

8. I'd never used a computerized children's check-in program for a church service, and I'm in no hurry to do it again. On the bright side, I now have a receipt that says those kids are mine. 

9. Not informing one of your children that their Poppa is a police officer can cause alarm upon seeing him in uniform.****

10. Mimosa trees are charming and planting one is a classy way to honor a much-loved and dearly-missed woman of God.

Find some time to enjoy the changing weather, watch a movie, plant some flowers. Go live a little!

Take A Load Off,

Cynthia

*Eating dirt at the park and licking public water fountains. Works like a charm.

**FYI: I'm not getting paid to yack about this movie. Isn't that shame? 

***NOT in Ikea.

****Nothing a little therapy can't undo.