They Call This Vacation?

Perhaps I've been retired too long. I've forgotten how much work is involved in anything resembling a vacation. Admittedly, there are complications, making this vacation more like work among the fun parts, many of which can be written off as results of aging. And some of them are just the stereotypical extra duties of being a woman. You know, who still does the cleaning? Still, I never imagined it would take me a month to get back into working on my own enjoyment of this summer.

I should have guessed by the time we both got in to the car to head north. I had thought I had planned well, organizing the errands, loading the car starting over a week ahead of departure date. All was ready... except the very last thing. I needed to open up the circuit breaker box to flip all the individual switches to "Off" except the master and solar switches. I knew perfectly well how to do it. But the hands decided they just weren't strong enough to push that little latch on the bottom over to the side, enabling the cover to drop. It wasn't solely that part. But dropping the cover, which was the goal all along to access the inside,  left even less latch to push against and it kept slipping back to the locked position.

I finally had to call Steve. His hands are stronger, but it was back to square one to explain the process and order of the steps. I had almost given up when he finally accomplished the task, so we both returned to the car, sweating despite the early hour. A mile down the road I wondered if we were going to get anywhere at all because I was getting waves of that light-headed feeling that I take as a warning that I shouldn't be walking, much less be behind the wheel. Steve has been forbidden from driving unless and until his dizziness can be diagnosed and treated. It was me or nobody. I found an empty parking lot to pull into, parked under what passes for a shade tree in Arizona, and waited about 20 minutes for normalcy to return. Fortunately, it did. And stayed.

After a night in St. George, Utah, we spent half a day touring both Zion and Bryce before heading up to Salt Lake City for a weekend with Steve's "little" brother's family. Dinnertable conversations left indelible memories of new family stories with which to embarrass the next generation of young relatives for the rest of their lives. They are detailed, so if you really want to hear them, ask sometime. We did find out not to tell a funny story just as somebody takes a large drink, and also that Steve's brother's hair is now thin enough that we can see him blush over his entire head!

As the family headed off to work and school on Monday, we headed east for a 3-day trek to Minnesota. Normally it would have been planned for two days, but we weren't sure how well Steve would tolerate long car rides. The downside of only putting in about 450 freeway miles a day was giving us plenty of time to find out how  uncomfortable motels can be if you plan on anything but flopping into bed until morning. No comfy chairs, no easily found TV programs, too little temperature control, the hell of sinking into a foam mattress and having to try to climb up out of it to move just a few inches....

It was great to get to the house, except for one thing. 10 months is a very long time for a bachelor to accumulate untended messes. Since cleaning was our "payment" for rental of our room, in lieu of cash, I couldn't complain too hard. But the four hours before bed included sweeping floors, washing dishes and countertops, cleaning and sanitizing the bathroom, and a complete change of bedding. 

Two of those justify explanation. First, the house design leaves an entryway that invites every leaf, seed, and dirt bit to fill it in. Trust me: in about three days it looks the same as before sweeping it out. Of course everybody's shoes track in the mess, and what starts as a leaf disintegrates into scattered bits before you cross the room to the kitchen. Yes, there are shoe mats inside the door: what's your point?

Second, there was a very unexpected mess in our bedroom. It's still only partly taken care of, meaning the bed is usable. But somebody left cans of Coke in a wastebasket just inside the door nearest the unheated part of the house, and the heat for the room was mistakenly set at 40 instead of 45. It wasn't good enough. Those cans exploded over the carpet, up the floor and across the ceiling, and down to the middle of the bed to cover pillows and spread.

It's a good thing our bodies were still on mountain standard time instead of central daylight time, giving us (me!!) a comfortable extra two hours before crawling into bed. Oh yeah, the ceiling, wall, and carpet still need attention, but....

I still push myself to do a few hours of cleaning, or tree branch trimming, or whatever, whenever I can kick myself into action. However, it seems to take me about an hour to reach exhaustion, and three days to recover enough to go for the next thing. And meanwhile there are still the usual tasks of grocery shopping, dishes, re-sweeping everything, driving Steve to whichever fishing hole allows him space to set up his chair and gear because yes, he still can't drive, and take a good friend to the doctor for regular lab work because she also can't drive and just got out of the hospital after temporary kidney shut-down. She swims in a complicated soup of chemicals with some unforeseen interactions, and while she avoided dialysis, all of them were removed and are slowly being added back or being replaced by something else in her system.

Never knowing how Steve will be feeling day to day, hour to hour, we're trying to fit in family visits and diners with friends, managing to keep about 2/3 of them without cancelling.  Those dizzy spells also mean you-know-who gets to handle the to-do lists. I make him do his own cancellation notifications. At the moment we're planning Father's Day with one of his sons along with 3 grandchildren, one accompanied by a boyfriend. He's rented a pontoon for his dream 75th birthday celebration, 4 hours with access to three local lakes, fishing for those interested out of the limit of 10 bodies allowed on board. Me? Camera, not pole, and conversation with anybody not eyeballing their line in the water. No cake, no presents, and everybody BYO-Everything. Well, I think Steve's bringing a bucket of minnows. Original planning involved a launch trip for walleye on Mille Lacs, but that also involved lots of travel time. Since his dizzy spells arrive unannounced, it's also a much riskier plan. Since they tend to leave within half an hour or so, he can often wait one out and go back to enjoying the day.

I have managed to see 2 of my 3 children, and spoken with my granddaughter. I managed to hit my favorite bead store, though this year, I came with different wants and didn't find what I wanted. (Hey, they're not on e-Bay either, so don't fault the store. And I did mention them to the owners and got them drooling over the idea, so maybe they'll secure them by next summer.) I have decided to postpone until next year a trip to tour the Apostle Islands, after finding out how early motels book up in the area, compared to how late in the season it already is. But my favorite local grocery store with the crispiest apple fritters is still making them. You just have to arrive as soon after 7AM as possible.

Yesterday I finally dug out my boxes with wire, tools, and other jewelry supplies, and started renewing my callouses from winding hard wire around various steel rods to start making jump rings again, enabling me to not only do chaining this summer but teach it to a couple of people as promised last spring. Of course, I'm accustomed to doing it in front of a TV program that doesn't need much watching, but summer TV, well, sucks.

Sure, that's it, my perfect excuse for putting chaining off: bad TV. I'll go with that.