The Beginning and The End

Once upon a time, in 1987, a couple went to Paris and bought some champagne.  Two bottles, to be exact.  Two bottles of fine champagne, purchased to be drunk, the first, on their first anniversary, and the second to be drunk, in Paris, on their 25th.  That couple was the ex and me, and we carried it back, walking through the airport with the bottles clinking in my carryon bag (along with the two free bottles the flight attendant had given us on the plane).

Fast forward a year, and that first bottle was drunk at a picnic table at Myakka State Park, whilst eating our cake (yummy) and feeding some to the squirrels.  The champagne was strictly for us, because OH MY was it the best I've ever had.

Many years passed, but the bottle remained.  I was never sure how it would taste, given its travels, and most probably improper storage, as well as the time passing -- champagne does have a shelf life, after all.  It just sat there, starting at me, through years of sobriety as the ex tried to maintain his, and even through the divorce, ironically, the year before our 25th.  What to do, what to do............

I put a lot of thought into what to do with that champagne.  We had discussed having it on December 21, 2012, since the world was supposed to end and all, but it was Jill's birthday, and I didn't want it to be a specific person's thing.  It was ours.  Seth also whined that he would only be 18, so he couldn't have any, to which I philosophically said "if it's the end of the world, who cares what you're drinking."  But I just left it alone.  The boys said to have it at Jill's wedding, but again, that is HER celebration, not quite what I was looking for.

And so it was that I decided to have it at our last gathering before everyone spreads to the four corners of the earth.  We had to have it at Jim's, since he was still recovering from his knee surgery, so the kids came over for pizza and when we were done, I proposed a toast.

"Twenty six years ago, we bought this champagne at the beginning of an adventure that created our family, and although it's not exactly the same family as it was, you guys are all....."

Jill:  "You're not going to cry, are you?  Because I don't want you to cry."

Me (absolutely dry-eyed):  "No.  I'm fine."

Jill:  "OK, I just wanted to be sure.  Sorry."

Me:  "...you guys are all beginning adventures of your own now, and ........"

Jill:  "Did you plan this?  I mean, did you memorize it?"

Me: "No."

Jill:  "Well, it's going very well."

Me:  "....I want to say how proud I am of you, how I hope the best for you, and how very, very much I love you.  Cheers!"

And with that, went 26 years of history.  I did really well, and didn't get teary till after those goobs left.  Teary doesn't count as crying, especially when it lasts less than 30 seconds, right?

Surreal vacation moments

So, in the past not quite four weeks, I have logged roughly 2,834 miles in my car, just in the long trips, not including day by day driving around. One trip to Tennessee, two to Cincinnati, one to Michigan, and one to West Virginia and back. One blown engine and two monsoons later, I'm ready to stay home for a while.

So, we were in the pool at the Fairfield Inn, in Fairmont, West Virginia, the other night. Worked all day, then drove to West Virginia, getting in about 10 or so, and headed straight down for a dip. There were two young boys in the pool, maybe ten and twelve, throwing the football around. Nice young men, these boys and, since they had a football, Dan decided not to miss the chance to work the room and started talking Broncos football.

A bit of small talk later, he inquired where they were from. "North Carolina," they said. "Are you here on vacation," says the hubby, to which they responded, "we're visiting a friend of our dad's. He's in prison."

Wow. A family vacation to the slammer. How very odd. Their mom wandered in later, and hubby talked to her for a while, never sure if she had had a nip, or if he was nuts, but it was pretty surreal when she mentioned that they were visiting a friend who's in prison. "He didn't kill anyone," she declared. "He just took some money."

All righty then.

And so I got thinking about some of the more surreal moments on our vacations, and of course, Utter Chaos being what it is, there was a list to choose from:

The time in Mexico, on a mission trip, when the nurses at the clinic brought Dan some cactus souffle as a thank you gift. He was sick as a dog for two days.

The time in Colorado when Dan decided we were going to find a bed and breakfast to sleep in -- that night, by driving by and just asking. I was mortified, but we ended up in the Teddy Roosevelt Suite, at Red Crags, for less than half the normal price, sipping free champagne in the hot tub, with a group of hearing impaired guests. Dan slipped into the kitchen for a snack, suddenly reappeared, and asked the owner, "is there supposed to be a racoon in the kitchen?" It had snuck in an open door.

The day we went to the Rockwell Museum, in Stockbridge, Mass. We left the two kids (Seth wasn't born yet) with my aunt and uncle, and when we got back, we pulled right up to the back door, which was glass. There stood my aunt, with a very serious look on her face. I looked at Dan and said "you get out first," to which he replied, "no way. It's your aunt. You go first." We made a deal, and both got out at the same time, right as the door swung open, and Aunt Barbara declared, "these are two of the quietest children I have ever seen." We both let out a huge sigh of relief.

Our honeymoon, which almost didn't happen. Well, let's face it, the entire wedding almost didn't happen. But when we finally got on the plane, we started wondering, just how does one get from Orly to the Metro station? I don't worry about stuff, cause it always works out, but Daniel went to work, working the plane, totally unbeknownst to me. He goes to the bathroom, comes back, and points at some guy a few rows up. "See that guy," he says, "his name is Jesse, and he's in school at Emory. He lives in Paris, and he's gonna give us a ride to the Metro station."

How about NO? I told him no way was I getting in a car with a stranger, in a strange country, where I didn't speak the language, but a few hours later, I was climbing in the back of his VW Rabbit, praying that he wasn't a terrorist.

Later in that same vacation, after a large quantity of sangria -- in a French Chinese restaurant, no less -- I found myself in a bathroom stall that literally had two footprints and a hole in the ground. I marched out and informed hubby that there was NO WAY I was peeing in a hole in the ground. He took me back to the car -- we almost got mugged on the way -- and took me back to the room, where we had actual plumbing.

There have been more, like the weekend drive to Florida -- 15 hours one way, with three kids -- to spend the weekend with the inlaws, and surprise my bro for his birthday, and the time I left my purse -- with $700 cash in it -- on the porch at the Visitor's Center in Townsend, TN (yes, it was there when we went back, with everything still in it), but these are just the ones that come to mind, and looking back, maybe a vacation to the prison isn't so unusual, given our history. And to stay with the vacation theme, here's a vintage Paris scarf, proclaiming "Paris and its marvels." It's a marvel we're ever allowed outta the house, most days, but you can pick up this little cutie from oopsie2, on ebay. Oopsie!