Vacations
After just publishing a blank page, I think I'm in need of a vacation. Of course, anyone who knows me knows that I have been saying that for a long time.
I've had so pretty bad vacations in my life. Maybe my expectations are too high, but vacations rarely turn out to be the bliss that I imagined before I started out. Some of the worst vacations I had were when I was married. Just me, my husband and his two boys or as I like to call them, the stepchildren from hell. We had three vacations during our brief two year marriage.
There was the trip through hell at Disney World with the three of them and my inlaws, the trip through hell to Myrtle Beach with the three of them and the inlaws, and finally the trip through hell to Ohio with them, in a motorhome, to my inlaw's house for Christmas. By the following Feb., by dearly devoted, soon to be exhusband met, arrested, and moved in with his next future ex-wife. By June, we were divorced and there were no more trips through hell with Daryl, Douggie, and Kevin.
I've on a cruise to the Bahamas once. That wasn't the trip I thought it would be either. A girlfriend talked me into going on a cruise. I thought, "what the hell, sure." That should have been a clue. She made all the travel arrangements. It was on the Big Red Boat, yep, the freaking Disney cruise line. Wall-to-wall kids and Disney characters. When we pulled into port at Nassau, there was another cruiseship across the dock from us. You could hear the music rocking and the partying going on. I stood on the deck of the Big Red Boat, sighing and wishing I was there. But here I was, abored ship with Mickey, Minnie, and the gang.
How about the ski vacation to hell with my sister, her first husband, another couple and their friend. Hurricane force winds at the top of one of the mountains that my sister talked me into skiing down. Did I mention that before this, I hadn't ventured beyond the bunny slopes? The wind was blowing soooo hard that I swear I was skiing uphill. And I could not stand the wife of the other couple. Half way through the 10 days in hell, Park City, Utah, I was looking for a way to escape and catch a wide-body jet back to Georgia. When I did finally get home, with all my bones intact and without inflicting some form of injury to the hostess from hell, I nearly kissed the tarmac in Valdosta.
Where to next?
I've had so pretty bad vacations in my life. Maybe my expectations are too high, but vacations rarely turn out to be the bliss that I imagined before I started out. Some of the worst vacations I had were when I was married. Just me, my husband and his two boys or as I like to call them, the stepchildren from hell. We had three vacations during our brief two year marriage.
There was the trip through hell at Disney World with the three of them and my inlaws, the trip through hell to Myrtle Beach with the three of them and the inlaws, and finally the trip through hell to Ohio with them, in a motorhome, to my inlaw's house for Christmas. By the following Feb., by dearly devoted, soon to be exhusband met, arrested, and moved in with his next future ex-wife. By June, we were divorced and there were no more trips through hell with Daryl, Douggie, and Kevin.
I've on a cruise to the Bahamas once. That wasn't the trip I thought it would be either. A girlfriend talked me into going on a cruise. I thought, "what the hell, sure." That should have been a clue. She made all the travel arrangements. It was on the Big Red Boat, yep, the freaking Disney cruise line. Wall-to-wall kids and Disney characters. When we pulled into port at Nassau, there was another cruiseship across the dock from us. You could hear the music rocking and the partying going on. I stood on the deck of the Big Red Boat, sighing and wishing I was there. But here I was, abored ship with Mickey, Minnie, and the gang.
How about the ski vacation to hell with my sister, her first husband, another couple and their friend. Hurricane force winds at the top of one of the mountains that my sister talked me into skiing down. Did I mention that before this, I hadn't ventured beyond the bunny slopes? The wind was blowing soooo hard that I swear I was skiing uphill. And I could not stand the wife of the other couple. Half way through the 10 days in hell, Park City, Utah, I was looking for a way to escape and catch a wide-body jet back to Georgia. When I did finally get home, with all my bones intact and without inflicting some form of injury to the hostess from hell, I nearly kissed the tarmac in Valdosta.
Where to next?
posted by Buttercup at
7:03 PM
2 Comments:
I'm fascinated by the way writing reveals new aspects of people. Isn't it weird how it's often easier to write about bad experiences rather than good ones? I can write a lot more when I'm angry than when I'm happy. I wonder what that implies for pedagogy? Piss people off; then give them writing materials?
By
Donna Sewell, at 7:37 PM
No kidding. I think it is easier to show the emotion we should leat likely demonstrate in writing. Our good times must be few and far between needing privacy so they remain perfect to us.
By
Diana Chartier, at 6:14 PM
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