25 or 6 to 4
In just a few hours, my family and I will be leaving for a short vacation. I had to Google the proper spelling of 'vacation' because it's been so very long since we've actually been on one. To put it in perspective, the last time we took a vacation, my oldest son, who will turn 13 on Thursday, was 2 years old. My youngest son, who wasn't around on that last epic, apparently bank draining adventure, has no idea what's in store for him when I say we're taking a trip. I honestly believe he thinks I'm telling him we're vacating, because he keeps looking around the place, trying to decide which of his most prized possessions he should salvage in the event we have to break camp here in the middle of the night. It's been fun watching him scurry about in a panic because he can't find his Nintendo DS that I've already packed away for our journey.
The title of this post probably gives away where we're going. Additionally, it represents:
- The approximate number of hours we'll be on the road
- How many times I'll ask that we stop so I can use a bathroom - in just the first 2 hours
- A third of the cost for us to enjoy this grand adventure
- How high I should count before responding to something the boys or my husband says
- The scientific strain of germ I fear picking up from the hotel bedspread
Nowhere, that's where!
Oh, but we're going somewhere (insert enthusiasm! and preparedness! and fun! lots and lots of fun!) here! So here's your final clue:
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."
Yes! That's right! Chicago! What gave it away? It was the word 'Chicago' wasn't it? No? Awww, you guys are just a bunch of brainiacs, aren't you?!
Sadly, according to our Garmin, Google Maps, Rand-McNally, Google Earth, and every other devise and/or website Tool Man has consulted today, it's far more than 106 miles for us to get there from here. Pity, really, because I could probably make that without any bathroom breaks and all the weary travelers would be happy.
Speaking of happy, I think the kids are really looking forward to our trip. At least, I think my oldest son is because he's been gleefully informing me about how he "doesn't want to go to Chicago!" and asking "Why are we even going there, anyway?" As you might imagine, I'm really looking forward to spending this quality time with him.
Before I can bask in his brightness, though, I have to finish laundry and pack. Tool Man has Julie McCoy-ed the hell out of us for this trip, but for some reason, he neglected to inform me of his tight schedule until today, so the fact we're leaving Sunday morning comes as a tremendous surprise to me. It's no wonder, really, why we never go on these wacky things. What is surprising, though, is how we've made it this far and not killed each other. Don't you wish you were tagging along?
I wish you were. We could stay up late giggling in the hotel room after a day spent tearing up Chicago sausage king-style like Ferris, Cameron and Sloan, which I fully intend to do when I'm not staring at some ancient artifact at a museum or weeping at the sheer joy my oldest child is having. Are there any parades schedule for Chi-town next week? If so, watch the nightly news for reports about how I rocked the Danke Schoen out of that town.
But before all that, I must finish laundry, pack, and encourage all of you to please, don't miss me too much. I know it's hard not to, but really, when I've only been posting once a week (or, ahem, less), doesn't this just seem like normal? Just trust I'll be back and know I'll eat a Chicago dog for you. Maybe. I don't like tomatoes and I'm not particularly fond of hot peppers. We'll see. Either way, you're probably going to miss me (sorry!) and I will be back, so everything will be OK.
Especially after I quit singing that damn Chicago song.