Months ago, before we had an inkling that All This would happen in February, Bryan planned a trip as a surprise for me. The fact of the trip was not meant to be a surprise (obviously, since he told me about it), but the destination was. I am a very good guesser, which is not my fault – my brain simply keeps working on a problem until I figure it out – and any time Bryan has tried to pull off surprise trips in the past, he has always given me too many hints and I have always figured it out (although of course I wouldn’t tell him that, but we are very attuned and he knows when I know). This time he refused to give me a single hint (and I bugged him for them, as he would have been very disappointed if I had not) and as of last week I had not the tiniest clue where we were going. But I was becoming increasingly exhausted, and he was getting worried that I wouldn’t be able to do the activities he’d planned, so on Wednesday he told me the itinerary: fly out on Friday (last), spend the weekend with my aunt and uncle in southern New Hampshire, drive to northern New Hampshire on Sunday, spend four nights at a ski resort there, and finally spend two nights at a nearby bed-and-breakfast before flying back to Michigan on Saturday.
I said I was up for it, and that if I found myself getting tired I would just ski a little less than normal. So that is how I come to be sitting at this moment in our hotel room at the ski resort, enjoying the free wireless which I imagine is supposed to be consolation for the fact that we can’t get a cell-phone signal to save our lives up here.
Vacations are great. Despite my increasing nausea I am having a wonderful time, and after a couple hours of skiing and a hot shower I am currently feeling about as satisfied as I can without actually being asleep. Which reminds me, I’ve got to go do that.
I promise longer posts are forthcoming when we return from our trip, if not sooner. In the meantime, will you allow me to distract you with a photo?
I borrowed my parents’ scanner a few weeks back and scanned quite a few old pictures, and through the miracle of Picasa, here is a (very small) collage for you. I call it “Some Things Never Change.”
On the left is me, age: sixteen; on the right is me, age: very young.