Spoiled

My name is Blue and I am a car service addict.  Nothing beats having someone pick you up at your house and schlepp your bags for you.  nothing beats getting off the plane, seeing your name on a placard and having someone schlepp your bags for you and deal with Sunday afternoon OC beach traffic. I know, it's that total faux celebrity thing.  But given the price of gas and parking it all evens out. That's what I'm telling myself.

We made it to Balboa safe and sound.

How long did it take Small Child to submerge herself in the bay? One hour.

We're expecting the onslaught of cousins shortly, so stay tuned.

The Vacation To Be

Yesterday, The Man left for California to represent our small family at the Big Family Wedding. Small Child, Large Dog, and I have been rule breaking ever since. Nothing major, just things like pets on the new patio furniture, Large Dog upstairs, and thrown together meals eaten in bed.

Getting him out the door on time was a real clusterf*ck. His flight - the airport is about a two hour drive in traffic - left early this morning, and given that dawn does not elicit birdsong in his world he decided to stay at an airport hotel the night before. First, we thought we'd turn it into a family outing. You know, swimming, room service, etc. As departure grew nearer, and folks (uhm, one male in particular) grew grumpier, this plan turned into, "I think you'd have a much more relaxing trip if you had some quiet time the night before. Why don't we just run you down to the hotel?" As grumpiness degenerated into snarling, and I was faced with a drive into the city in rush hour traffic, I threw caution to the wind and called a car service, knowing full well that the likelihood of an available town car was slim. At this point, however, I'd have happily taken out a second mortgage for a super stretch limo.

The stars were in my corner. The service just happened to be making a one way run from the airport to the town just north of ours. So when The Man returned from yet another errand he'd neglected to plan for, I told him that he'd be transported in anonymous peace.

And we all heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Two hours later, a polite man with a German accent and a tie whisked him away.

And tomorrow I begin packing in earnest.

We will be spending a week and a day on Balboa Island. The Man spent portions of most childhood summers at his grandparents' house there and has many fond memories, including waving at John Wayne as he cruised the canals in a PT boat. I love this island, too, but I'm not so much looking forward to being cheek-to-jowl with my anorexic mother-in-law.

Confetti

Some quick random thoughts, and then I'm going to sleep (I hope).

* The heat is messing with my circadian rhythms. I find myself all siesta-ey around 3 p.m., and pass into a dozy haze for about an hour and a half.  This, of course, means that I stay up too late, am tired all day, and crash even harder the next day. I know that the solution is to hit the treadmill at siesta time, but my bed feels sooooooooooo much better. 

* On the 13th, Small Child and I head to California to rendezvous with The Man and his mom for a week on Balboa Island, although we passed on the Big Family Wedding at Del Mar. The Man spent time on the Little Island during most of his childhood summers and has wonderful memories.  I like it, too, but this is not how I would like to spend my Designated Vacation Time.

* Spending three hours talking with friends, eating hummus, drinking wine, and alternating between the hot tub and the cool pool is excellent therapy, isn't it?

* If you have a child between seven and ten (give or take a year or so for individual variations), I highly recommend reading some childhood classics aloud together. Small Child adored, for example, both Little Women and My Side of the Mountain. 

* Summer shoes seem to be on sale.  That is always a good thing.