(no subject)
Vacations are a tricky business. The word "vacation" seems to be almost synonmous with "respite". A "respite" seems to be an "interval of rest or relief". So here comes the big question: can a weekend with my parents ever be considered a vacation?
Prior to this weekend my automatic response would have been an extremely emphatic "no!" I could get into the nitty-gritty details of why the idea of spending a weekend trapped with them is neither "rest" nor "relief", but the easy answer is: I see way too much of them as it is! One of the luxuries of living in this place and time is a significant amount of privacy; except for one small flaw, I like living alone! Once upon a time, I guess it wasn't so unusual for families to live in one overly large room, and that still isn't that uncommon in certain areas of the world. The assumption of certain cultures that a married couple will just move in with the in-laws makes me shudder! It's bad enough my folks live 1.95 miles away. I don't think I have to prove to anyone how much I love my folks, but without one moment's hesitation I can say, "That's way to *$#@ close!"
We had several very, very nice invites for Thanksgiving this year. I'm not especially enthusied about the holiday these days, so I really didn't care. It was my mom who politely but unequivocally wanted out this year. She didn't want to be here. I don't think she really knew where else she would rather be, it just wasn't here. When she told me she wanted us to go someplace for the holiday, I was a bit skeptical of how this was a good idea; Dad and I don't always-- ok, ok-- usually don't play nice together and it can get ugly fast. But she is doing so very well, and the two of us did had a really great time in San Diego this spring....ok....I'll think about.
Our first idea was going to Yosemite and staying at the lodge. If we had planned this a few months ago that would have been doable, but a month before Thanksgiving it wasn't going to happen. I was all for going to Florida and watching the shuttle launch, but maybe that was a bit ambitious (and Discovery is being a fickle date these days). Besides, I wanted to work Thanksgiving morning at the cafe. We decided San Diego worked so well a few months ago, why not try it again. It was close, no one seems to go there in November so the hotel rates were very reasonable, and if Dad and I started going for each others' throats Mom could stick one (or both) of us on the train and ship either of us back to Long Beach, then she could go over the Del Coronado and drink in peace and quiet until the desire to pack us up and send us with the shuttle subsided. Ultimately that is why we settled on staying at the Best Western in Old Town. Back in the day, when I use to head to San Diego once a year I always wanted to stay there, and it is within walking distance of the transit center.
Ok! We have a plan! We would zip down to San Diego an hour or so after I got off of work, and I would have most of Monday and all of Tuesday free to pack and clean prior to my shifts at the cafe. "Free?" It seems to be another word I really need to consult a dictionary on. Yeah, yeah Inigio, I hear ya.