We're home. I want to write you all an interesting and relevant post, but that is not going to happen.
I wonder about vacationing where we do. It takes so long to get there and back. We fly in and out of a city that is 6 hours away from the cottage. Given how much money we save doing that it always makes sense when I buy the tickets and makes little sense when I get back exhausted from two days travel.
Oh but I should not whine. It was a lovely vacation. Here are the highlights:
The cottage and the ocean were, as always, breath-takingly beautiful. I live in a part of the country which is very dry and I grew up with forests, water, and fog. The northern coast of Maine is far from my childhood home, but it brings back all those old feelings. When I was a girl I used to go into the forest and find myself holding my breath so that I could hear all the noises. I used to think that if I could be quiet enough I could hear the trees speak. I feel that way at the cottage. I go sit on the rocks and listen to the waves. It touches my soul.
We ate lobster three times.
I put Brian's cell phone through the washing machine.
We went to our favorite restaurant. I decided I loved it fifteen years ago when we asked to be seated in the non-smoking section which turned out to be four tables in the middle of the restaurant -- surrounded by tables at which patrons smoked. It was so outrageous it made me laugh. Fortunately there were not a lot of smokers. Now the whole dining room is nonsmoking, but you can still get the best clam chowder and crab meat rolls there.
We got the last Harry Potter book and I read it aloud to the kids over three days. I have a first edition of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. That means something as they were not certain that it would take off in America. We found it and loved it. No one we knew had heard of it. Most of the books we have read in that cottage. Not all, but most of them. We have had them shipped directly there and I have read the books to the boys sitting on that plaid sofa in the living room.
And this year we read the last of the books there.
And the family decided to put the cottage on the market. The taxes alone are as high as our mortgage. We cannot keep it. (Please, my darling helpful, problem-solving friends, don't offer creative suggestion for keeping the property. Decisions are made. I have agreed with them. I have gone through denial, anger, and bargaining. I am grieving and every so slowly moving towards acceptance).
We returned to a house which, as Evan put it, looks like two teenage boys lived here for two weeks. Actually, considering that, it is not too bad. They left us some milk, which is sour. They house is dirty, but not torn apart. The puppy was prevented from chewing furniture and I only found one un-treated puppy accident mark.
Evan is getting very excited about school starting. He moves into the dorms in less than three weeks now. He wanted to know if we would attend the family dinner at orientation with him. Actually he asked if we wanted to go, using a "I know it is lame and it is okay with me if you don't want to do it" voice. I am assured him that I wanted to go, that the school does these things to make it easier for parents to let go of their kids and it was important. We would be there.
The brakes on the van mysteriously went from squeaky to down-right frightening, even though Evan says that he did not drive the van very much. (He was only supposed to drive it on the days he dropped us off and picked us up). He did make a joke about how the brake noise isn't so bad if you turn the radio up really loudly, but he didn't drive it very much -- really. Hubby's taken it to the shop to find out how bad it is. Hopefully it is just the pads. Please, let it just be the pads.
I have not heard any updates on Frankie, but I will let you know as soon as I do.
Friday, August 03, 2007