You might think I would post something while I was on vacation, but except for the previous entry [now deleted] about my daughter's birthday, I did not feel compelled to. Not that my friends weren't asking. "Are you blogging about our vacation?" But until someone comes up with a laptop that resists sun, sand and Coppertone spray, I'd rather nod off in a chair, reading a book and listening to the waves.
I had one of those vacations that lasted so long I started thinking I actually lived in a multi-million dollar home a block from the ocean and partied with twenty to thirty people every night.
Psst. Cinderella. You're really a pumpkin.
So in the end I had to catch a plane and come back to my Jeep Cherokee reality.
The flight landed at 5:15, a remarkable fifteen minutes early. But early arrival at O'Hare just confuses the airport people. Early? We don't do no stinkin' early!!! As a result we had to sit on the tarmac, waiting our turn, so close to the jetway, and yet so far away.
One of the flight attendants welcomed us to Chicago where the weather was 73 degrees and clear. Then she warned us in no uncertain terms to remain seated "with your seatbelts fastened until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign." But we could now use our electronic devices without incurring a felony conviction.
Ah, the musical sound of a hundred cell phones powering up. And the tinkle of messages that need answering.
I called a friend I was meeting for dinner only to find out he wanted to meet at 7:00 not 8:00, so I was going to have to hoof it home.
That's when reality kicked in full throttle. Arriving at the house with fifteen minutes to spare, I jumped into my car and it wouldn't start. The lights lit up, but there still wasn't enough juice to go.
That really was a long vacation.
Luckily, in a gesture reminiscent of those halcyon days of yesteryear, my friend said he would swing by and pick me up. What a novelty!!!
Now I could worry about getting the car going later. That would be today. But I'm "blogging" so maybe not until tomorrow.
We went to a bocce/bowling/bistro place that was hosting a bocce tournament between Italians from Italy and Americans. We decided to sit outside by the firepit and order some "small plates' under the stars.
We spent the next several hours catching up with each other's lives until we were the only two people left and had the fire all to ourselves. Unfortunately, the fire's smoke kept swirling into our faces, so we finally moved to a bench to watch the flames and look at the stars from a less eyewatering distance.
Afterward we went for a drive, car roof open and radio cranked to an oldies station. For a few miles we were sixteen again before finally calling it a night.
This morning when I woke up trying to hold onto the last remnants of my vacation, I noticed that the house smelled vaguely smoky. [Hello, you were practically standing in a fire last night.]
Was there an electrical problem somewhere? Had the pile of newspapers I was saving for a rainy day finally spontaneously combusted? [Yo, old person, remember last night? The fire?]
I opened a window in case that smoldering smell was coming from outside. It wasn't. And I still couldn't imagine where it was coming from. [Sheesh.]
Does it smell in the living room too. I wondered? I got up, put on last night's shirt as a cover up. [Effing brilliant.] I had tossed it on the floor next to my bed because I was too tired the night before to do more than take off my clothes and go to sleep.
The smoky smell seemed to follow me into the living room too. [No shit, Sherlock.]
The phone rang. I let it go to voicemail. It was my friend. He was calling to say that he left his shirt hanging on his closet door last night and the whole room smelled smoky this morning.
My body might be back, but my brain is still on a beach somewhere.