Staycation All I Ever Wanted...

 Staycation, no cash to get away.  

Sing it with me.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was counting the days towards my vacation after Christmas.  To be fair, I actually like working straight through to Christmas generally because I know all my customers are taken care of and I start the new year on the right foot.  Of course, when my real life complicates my work life, this becomes difficult.  This year, it became impossible.

The day before Christmas Eve I went to work feeling somewhat off.  I chalked it up to having gotten the booster the week before and carried on.  While out on the route, the pain got worse, and of course, the mail truck broke down.  When the supervisor came out to rescue me with a new truck, he could see I was struggling.  I managed to make it through the day and checked myself into the ER straight from work. Eight hours later, relieved it was not my appendix, I was sent home with a script for heavy duty antibiotics and a note for work through Sunday. 

The next two days, Thursday and Christmas Eve, were pretty much spent in the house.  On a liquid diet I get quite dizzy, so I did not leave the house at all.  I divided up my last bits of Christmas chores for the boys to handle, along with getting my antibiotics, fetching lunch, and walking the dog. They did well, and our Christmas Eve went as well as can be. 

Typically, we do all our opening on Christmas Eve, make a big breakfast, and chill in our jammies Christmas day. This year, since we didn't get to see my brother's kids, we went over to my sister's house for an impromptu Christmas day brunch. While we were there, a game was played that involved holding a candy cane in your mouth and scooping up as many candy canes as you could for your team in the matter of 2 minutes. Super fun but not COVID friendly, at all.

Sunday was pretty uneventful, as I planned out my stress-free week of long overdue tasks. My parents came over...

Me: So, I think I'm going to buy the burial plot this week, since I didn't get one for Christmas like I asked.

Hubs: No way I was getting you that for Christmas.  Someone will ask me what I got you and I CAN NOT say burial plots.  That's just not okay.

Mum: Next year you can get her poison mushrooms.

*sigh*  Comedians, all of them.  But by Tuesday I had in fact, secured one of only 30 plots left in the cemetery down the street, with graves that date back to the late 1700s, where Youngest had changed flags every Memorial Day for 7 years. It's a corner plot, quiet, and perfect for picnics. When I got home, I made the appointment to update the will.  Funny, you don't think about how important these things are until you are stuck with seeing someone go through it. And given how difficult the last two years have been... 

Thursday morning my sister called me to say my niece had tested positive for COVID.  Remember the candy game? Yeah, I wish I could forget.  Thankfully I did not play, but Oldest did, and after some frantic searching we found a pharmacy with tests in stock.  So, he headed out to get one and discovered his car dead in the driveway, behind mine. Forty years of driving could not have prepared me for the comedic events that followed while, aided by Oldest, I attempted an 80-point turn to get my car turned around so I could jump his battery. Once successful, he headed out to get coffee to charge it a bit, came home and tried to restart it.  Nothing. Thankfully, my friend had an extra test and ran it down to us.  Oldest tested positive.  This means his New Year's plans are off, and he can't start his internship for an extra week.  He made the contacts aware that were necessary, and I ran to the pharmacy to get additional tests. He's been holed up in his room, sans his hand-built gaming computer -did I forget to mention it completely died on Wednesday?-with a box of tissues and not much else. 

With the rest of us testing negative, Youngest has packed up to a friend's house for the next 4 or 5 days, since he FINALLY found a job, and the Hubs and I are masking up and only running necessary errands.  One of which, was getting a new car battery for Oldest, which he installed today, since it was 50 degrees outside, a rarity in December. Which brings us to New Year's Eve, the Chinese food is ordered for later, and I am turning my sights towards the last things I need to get done as the next year arrives.

I sure hope the passing of Betty White is not an indicator of what's to come.

Twenty Eight Days Later...

 I'm alive, I swear.

Barely.

I'm not even sure where to start really, just to say that this Thanksgiving I was more grateful than others.  While we were missing my niece and two nephews, the event was more of an adult affair, the youngest in attendance being nearly 16. Youngest was present, really present, and engaged in conversation.  Oldest was happy to be home for the week, and even happier to be back on our insurance policy ensuring he could see friends and run errands throughout the week. Even Bonus Son partook in our rousing annual game of Family Feud, complete with Steve Harvey mustache and horrendous answers. 

Logistically the past 7 weeks have been a mess.  With a lack of help at work, getting time off to do anything is difficult.  On the 8th of November we dropped off Youngest's car to have body work done from two accidents, one where he was backed into, and the other when he hit a deer. We were assured that the damaged could be fixed because they were two separate claims.  For three weeks the body shop and the insurance company went back and forth. Then, the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week the insurance decided they would total loss the car.  They did this after they cut the check to the body shop for the first claim, and now left us trying to find a used car in a market that doesn't exist right now, and with a settlement price that can't replace any of the safety features he once had. Hostile phone calls ensued, appraisals flew through emails, it was a mess.  

No worries though, because while his brother was still in school he could use his car, right?  Nope.  It needed brake pads, rotors, and calipers. And, while we scheduled that for the shop, one of the tires went flat. In trying to get it off, something else came loose, and it then needed to go in immediately.  So not only could we not have Youngest drive it to school, but Oldest couldn't take it back into the city to get himself home for Thanksgiving break. This meant rearranging the week so that Hubs could get him that Tuesday, an hour trip into the city that took nearly 3 hours. Good times.

In the meantime, Youngest decided to bail on all but one class for college, further convinced it is just not for him. He did manage to find a car, and after 10 days of waiting, finally got everything through the RMV. The body shop finally released the original claim money they were given a month ago, and now we are just finishing up with the final settlement of his old car, which was just picked up from the body shop yesterday, and remove it from his policy.  

Oldest's last final was yesterday, so on Sunday we brought his car up to him, moved almost everything out for him, and began the process of fitting his entire apartment back into our 900 square foot house. He nailed his final, worked half a day, and arrived home at 730 last night further testing the limits of our storage capabilities with what was left of everything in the apartment.  His co-op is 5 miles from the house, and while I hope it goes well, this moving him every 12 weeks is crazy. Regardless, he's here until May, with delusions prospects of going to Switzerland to hike 100 miles through the Alps in April. 

Today, because of a well-placed vacation day I requested in March, I was able to restock the food in the house which had been getting, well, questionable. Youngest's car was finally available for pick up, so he finally has wheels and has been home for 30 seconds.  His goal this week is to finish his one class for school and find a full-time job. Target has been dragging their feet, and his other prospects aren't looking too appealing.  Though a library job with the town has popped up and has piqued his interest, so we shall see. His legal issues, while he didn't want to bring them into the new year, have been pushed to January, which seems to be a small favor. While I won't get into it, being the victim in one case prevents him from testifying and allows him the 5th. As horrible as what he went through, it seems he may have finally seen the road he was heading down was very much a dead end.

With nine days left to go it seems I will survive another holiday season.  The gifts are all received, wrapped, and with only stockings left to go, we are in good shape. The days, I'm sure, will fly by. Which is good, because I also strategically took time off way back in March for the 25th through the 1st.

Maybe then I'll actually be able to get something done for me.

Go Easy On Me...

There ain't no gold in this river

That I've been washin' my hands in forever

I know there is hope in these waters,

But I can't bring myself to swim when I'm drowning in this silence. ~Adele

 

There comes the time of year here, when the leaves are more absent than rustling in the trees.  When the cold sets in, and the green retreats underground to hibernate for the winter.  While Fall is the favorite of all seasons for me, the dark sets in so early and the chill through the 75 year old house can't help but make the walls creak, as well as my old bones. 

There are many happy things in the Fall.  My birthday.  Oldest's birthday; he's 21 this year. Thanksgiving.  The Holidays. The smell of cinnamon, pine, and spice throughout the stores and shops. Gratitude. Togetherness. Yet, every year it comes.

The weight that falls upon my chest, stifling the breath I desperately need to rejuvenate myself, anxiety that falls heavy in my soul.  I am no stranger to depression, having battled through severe postpartum with both boys, barely emerging on the other side. But the Seasonal depression, is something different.  Not crippling, but just enough to impact my everyday.  Not enough to require medication, but enough to take notice.

I take solace in the fact that Oldest will be returning home after Christmas for a semester.  His internship is downtown, with little travel outside of our town. It will be nice to have him home again, an unexpected upside to his new school schedule. He's dependable, even keeled, and the dog really misses him.  

Youngest has made some clear decisions about his path going forward, he's actively taking his medications, and becoming more of himself.  Despite his old life is trying to pull him back, he is determined to move forward.  He's finishing his 3 weeks of school and for now, has decided to not reenroll.  It's just not for him. He's looking for a full time job, and is making more of a point to be involved with the family. As Hubs and I watched the Adele interview the other night, she was asked what she wanted for her son as he grew older.  Her reply was for him to just be a good person, that she had no expectations for him, just to be happy and good. It resonated with me because since Youngest was born I believed that he would do great things, but perhaps I need to accept that he could do great things, and for now just be okay now with him just being a good person, a happy person. We can see small glimpses of that now, and that in itself is no small feat. 

Work has been not as bad as it could be.  We have had more sunny days than rainy, and the chill thus far has been manageable. In years past I have, with some help, organized and spearheaded the shopping and wrapping of gifts for several kids in the foster care system. It became such a burden and headache that last year I stopped it completely. While I did my own thing, gave when I could, where I could, it just wasn't the same. This year I decided to take only 2 kids, and myself and 3 coworkers are splitting the list and making sure they get a good haul from Santa. A small thing, but manageable, to bring joy to our day and theirs. 

I am finding joy in the small things.  Going to lunch with a friend. Napping. Breathing when I can. Really tending to my plants, growing life inside while I can. Saying no. Stepping back. Counting the thirty five days to the darkest point, until we regain 2 minutes of sunshine daily, 15 minutes a week. But still, the anxiety, the depression is there. While Youngest and I are familiar, Hubs just doesn't get it. It's hard to explain that I just can't snap out of it, that even through the smiles and casual conversation, the weight and sense of impending doom is still there, lurking. 

Thirty five days.

Until then, go easy on me. 

Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain...

And wind...

And Power...

This is the sun over the fall foliage at the pond by the house. Pretty, no? It was especially pretty because this marked the first day after 3 of overcast rain and high winds that knocked out power for our area for days.  Nothing beats a good 'ole Nor'easter.  No names to our storms, they are just remembered by the aftermath they leave in their wake. This particular one was marked by most residents being completely unprepared, getting all their weather from an app on their phone, instead of turning on the actual news to see what was going on. The lines for gas were hours long.

The neighbor's house was hit by half a tree.  She doesn't live here during the week and despite the multitude of friends and family she has on the street and in the area, I was the first to tell her she had a tree on her house. She was panicked.  Knowing the whole neighborhood was out, and the lines weren't live, we cut the tree off her house and electric wires while we waited for Eversource to restore power. Thankfully, aside from her electrical conduit getting destroyed along with a small piece of the gutter, there was no actual damage to the house.

Trees blocked every street in the neighborhood.  The other side of our road had trees down on both sides making it impassable. So we took a walk with the chainsaw and cut one of them apart so people could get home from work. 

My beloved pond has some new obstacles to play on.  It may not look like much, but that's two trees nearly 70 feet in length. That green structure to the right is a large industrial swing set. The odd part about this storm is that nearly everything that fell was Oak, which of course is good to burn for the winter.  Needless to say many people, chain saws in hand, have already started foraging down trees.

The transformer boxes and grid for the neighborhoods were blown wide open for days...

This is the neighbor's house after we got the tree down.  We also foraged the big stuff for our Brother In Law to burn next winter...

This is perhaps my favorite picture though.  Since most of us didn't have power we do not know for sure, but we suspect there were many micro bursts in the area.  This tree (seen behind the telephone pole) was literally twisted off 50 feet up leaving the pole untouched, spun the crown of the tree up into the air, flipped it upside down and landed it like a hand. After assessing it we deemed it too dangerous to attempt on our own, and are waiting for the town to take care of it.  To get an idea of how massively unsafe this is, look at the car in the picture... It's going to be there for a while I suspect.  We're calling it the tee-pee.

We also helped the backyard neighbor cut up his trees that missed his cars by 5 feet. And we cleaned up the neighbor's tree on the other side of us, as his pear tree snapped on our lawn and was dangling.  

Did I mention we don't have a single tree in our yard and yet we spent 3 days hauling wood that wasn't ours? Yeah, good times.  But it's what you do when you live in a neighborhood. I delivered mail every day, and I contacted one of my customers who was away that a tree had fallen on their house as well.  Again, you would have though SOMEONE would have called her before day four, but no. 

Any hoo... we were without power for 3 days.  Which while unusual for us (we are on the circuit with the firehouse, church, and school, all of which are emergency havens) but according to my Facebook memories seems to happen every three years or so. We did have the advantage of having a generator, that neither of us knew how to use, but in an effort to save the freezers, we learned quickly. We had only 12 hours worth of gas, and little chance of getting more (see mass hysteria at the gas station since no one was prepared) but we managed to save everything but the milk in  the fridge.

We've also discovered that our other neighbor that weekends here is an electrician and he's agreed to hook the generator into our electrical panel so we can safely run nearly everything in the house next time. And I got an extra gas can so we'd have more than 12 hours of gas. It's the learning curve of adult hood, ya know?

So that's what's been going on here.  Wielding chainsaws, dodging tree branches whist delivering mail, icing my knee which has been horribly overworked, and trying to enjoy the sunshine as the chill of Fall settles in.

Taking A Few Mental Health Days...

My birthday should be a national holiday.

But because the government has yet to respond to my formal written request, I put in four months ago for some days off. We had a trip planed to New York City set for this weekend for the last month or so. And then life happened.

Nettie died. The dog got super needy and refuses to eat when we leave her. My knee is acting up. Youngest has been weird, but in a good way, which is both good and suspicious. I've been working a gazillion hours and training new staff as well. Holiday is coming. The house is beginning to smell like a frat house. 

Going away felt more like work than a much needed escape, so I cancelled it. The husband understood, in that he supported my decision, even though he had absolutely no idea what I meant when I said I didn't have the "mental health space" to go. Instead, I slept until 830 on Saturday, showered, and we dropped the dog at day care for the day. We headed west to the outlet mall, Bass Pro, and anywhere else that resembled a shopping experience, something that lately, is getting harder and harder to find. 

The Christmas shopping, friends, is nearly done. I'm not sure entirely how it happened, it just did.  I hit the sale racks, stood in line, and swiped away some of my overtime money. The husband carried the bags, running them to the truck as needed. The local Cracker Barrel was slammed, but we managed to get in for a quick bite before heading back home. He walked the dog while I made us dinner, and clicked away at the few last things we couldn't find in stores. With it all tucked away, it was as if a giant weight was lifted. I know that it may seem stupid to most, but having spent the better part of 15 years in retail, I got in the habit of being done by my birthday every year.  That way if I was in a mall, dealing with people, it was because I wanted to not because I had to, and that seems to have stuck with me long after my retail days have gone.

Youngest was home on Saturday night at 830pm.  Like, actually home, and in bed by 9. So I slept, like a baby this morning until 8ish. Oldest ran out of his medication on Friday and knowing things are ramping up at school, I ran him some extras until his refill came.  His prescription, last I checked, was still in transit since the 9th of October, which is simply unacceptable. So we did some grocery shopping for home and the dorm and headed into Boston.  Let me just say I miss the part of COVID when there was no traffic. It seems that no matter how we time it, the 45 minute trip in turns into 1-2.5 hours each way. So we saw the boy, took him to lunch, and made the trek home. I'd love to say that I had an incredibly productive day after that, but no. I took a much needed nap.  The husband is watching football, muddling under his breath, the dog is whining because (rolls over and sighs) no one is rubbing her belly.

Tomorrow the Hubs is headed down to help his brother in law stack some more wood before the winter moves in.  I am catching up on household stuff, lawn work, and have a much needed therapy session. 

Tuesday will be for eating cake.

And then, the chaos will resume. The overtime will return, my patience will run thin, and the countdown to January will commence. 

But for today I will sit in the silence, the calm, the peace.

Well, once I kill that fly that someone let in. 

Days In Days Out...

 It poured here this afternoon. I love the sound of rain.  I am fortunate that unless it comes with serious wind, we can leave the windows open without getting anything wet. The ebb and flow of the weather lately has been much like my life, hot and humid one minute, cold winds the next, step outside to feel the sunshine, get hit in the face with a downpour.

The loss of Nettie (see last post) hits me in waves. I still can't believe she's gone.  

My customer that had the stroke finally forwarded his mail out.  His nephew is taking care of his things, last I knew he was in a rehab. The house, we all believed, would be uninhabitable now, a complete tear down.  His truck is gone, replaced with a dumpster.  The clean out has begun.  While the house was in much disrepair, there's something so disheartening about someone's whole life sprawled out on the front lawn.  Maybe he had just given up, or maybe he was a hoarder, but at some point that stuff on the lawn, mixed with rotten wood and trash, was important to him.  And now, it's rain soaked, and headed for the landfill. 

Oldest was here for about 24 hours this weekend.  He came home to get his tattoo.  While he's at school we take him off the car insurance, so I end up being his personal Uber. Saturday night he met up with the boys for dinner, Sunday it was grocery store, after store, after store, then the tattoo, and because of traffic, a 3 hour round trip back to school. While it was good to see him, the whirlwind was a lot for me, particularity since it was my only day off for the week. 

Youngest and I are riding the rollercoaster. We're 3 weeks into a new med.  I can see a difference.  The whole family can see a difference.  He's engaged.  He's eating.  He's gained 5 pounds. And then he won't call to let me know he's not coming home (uncommon for him) leaving me a wreck, and be on a bit of a bender for a few days.  Then he rebounds and is doing better.  I honestly can't keep up.  I also can't get excited any more, as as soon as I see a bit of hope, it's gone.  He's going to school. Doing the work. Looking for a real job. He's switched to Delta 8, derived from hemp, it's less of a high and far more relaxed experience. The advantage is that he can order it directly from a company, and along with it comes the entire chemical breakdown for that batch.  In that respect, it's safer and will do less damage to his frontal lobe. I've been trying to get him to try hemp flower, all the CBD and virtually no THC, but so far he's not buying it. In the mean time I have ordered up some CBD gummies and mints from an online hemp farm, in an effort to get some sleep. They are 3 times the potency I can get at our local place, and so far seem to be doing the trick. I slept like the walking dead last night. 

In the mean time I'm trying intermittent fasting.  It seems to be giving my digestive system time to catch up throughout the day and as a result I am in less pain. 

And I'm also down 15 pounds.

What is it that they say?

Like sand through an hour glass, these are the days of our lives.

Nettie....

We knew all the same people, went to the same schools, had the same teachers, even rode our bikes on the same roads. Yet we never knew each other until 20 years ago when I started at the Post Office. 

I had two kids under two when I started.  She trained me, pregnant with her third child, how to deliver mail from the center of the car.  That's how we delivered mail back then. We became friends.  The kids grew.  We'd get together for ice cream, talk about the guys she was dating, and my Hubs before he was the hubs. We went on a girls weekend, shopped every tiny store on Nantucket, drank amaretto at the bar, and talked about stupid things from our childhood. She was a bit wild, often lost. I was never the friend who told her what she wanted to hear, only what she needed to hear.  Her mom loved that about me.  She thought we should spend more time together. Our friendship was off an on because of this honesty, sometimes it was just what she needed, sometimes it was not. She lovingly called me Momma Buzzkill.

She was the first one to come to me when they boy's father died.

She finally met a decent man and her life settled in. He balanced her. She had resigned herself to never getting married. She was okay with that.  They were together seven years before they got engaged. Their wedding day was our (The Hubs and my) 7th anniversary. Two weeks before he had a massive heart attack.  She joked that if he really didn't want to get married he could have just said so.  He recovered, they released him the morning of their wedding, and they were married in a small backyard ceremony.

They spent some time blending their lives together.  His kids and home from his previous marriage.  Her life, home and kids from her previous life. It was a lot.  Sadly there was not enough time.  He passed away a few weeks before their first anniversary.  She was a widow at 45.

The next three years were challenging. She struggled. She eventually transferred to a satellite office, back to where we both started.  We had talked a lot about if it was the right move for her.  In the end, she said it felt like she had finally come home, like it was the first good thing in a long time. We met up off and on, talked when we could.  I don't think anyone knew the entire story, ever.  Sometimes it was hard to talk with her, her emotions would run high, she'd refuse to listen to reason, and this Momma Buzzkill could only do so much reality before phone calls became texts, or touching base days later. On rare days though, the old her would resurface. She would call me at work, with a snicker, and say "Is it there yet?"  And of course, it was.  She would start a rumor in an office ten miles away, and we'd take bets on how fast it would take for it to get from one office to the other.  Our rumor mill is worse than middle school, usually taking less than 10 minutes, no matter how outlandish it was. 

So it came as no surprise when I started hearing the rumors that things were not going well at work. I'd call her, she'd not answer.  I'd text, and she'd treat it like a joke.  Except when it wasn't.  She had spiraled down the rabbit hole much further than anyone had realized. I begged her to meet with me, sign the papers, and I'd do the rest.  Others tried as well. Nothing worked, and eventually a 20 year career was lost. No retirement.  No pension.  No Insurance. 

Keeping in touch was harder after that.  She called me when her Youngest graduated Highs School.  She called to let me know she was going to be a grandma again. She called last month when she was struggling with what would have been her 3rd anniversary. She was talking about downsizing, selling the house and living simpler.

Two weeks ago I found out she was on life support. In the hospital for something else, she had a heart attack. She went without oxygen to her brain for 25 minutes, and while there was 10% function early on, later they found none. We were under the impression that they were just waiting on one more test before deciding what to do. The prognosis was not good.  She would need a miracle, and even then she'd never be herself again. The next day there was much speculation. About an hour later someone said they heard she had passed.

We all cried.

Two hours later someone called the hospital only to find out she was in fact, still on life support.

I could hear her words echoed in my head Is It There Yet??? and then her one of a kind chuckle. Classic Nettie, she was screwing with us from the in between. 

*raises Amaretto*

Well played, my friend, well played.

Update: She had been taken off life support and was breathing on her own.  While she had some indications that she was responding to outside stimuli, she eventually gave in and crossed over to be with her husband. In the end, it was on her terms, which, is the way she always had to have things. 

The Rest Of The Vacation....

 When I left you last, we had turned a corner.  Cross country travel with adult children is now out, as are excessively over priced meals and tacky souvenir shops. But the Hubs and I still had vacation time left, and a tenth anniversary to celebrate.  

Not to be outdone by the ceremonial  (literal) fist bump on the actual day of our anniversary, once I was on the mend, we decided to head into Boston for another adventure. The Museum Of Fine Arts has been on my radar for a bit now, and knowing the exhibit would only be there until October, we decided to go. Oldest, by the way, has a free membership, and yet has never been.

Kids these days have no idea what they are missing. 

The thing about the MFA is that you can just be walking down a hallway and BAM....

Jackson Pollock.  I don't really get his art, but I can appreciate it.  I understand it better than....

Picasso.  I mean I can see the woman in this, but I can see where people get lost within his art.  Then of course, there's Van Gogh's Postman, which I mean come on... if anyone understands the expression of this man's face it's me...

And then of course, these beauties.  What we came to see.  Monet....

What amazes me is that he painted mostly in series.  Sometimes setting up 30 or more canvases, each one capturing that view, at that time of day.  A sequence of his paintings would be like a time lapsed photograph of the subject, be it hay stacks, the Rhine, or his waterlilies. 

Even the Husband could appreciate his works.

We also appreciated the café.  They have a full restaurant, with incredibly good, locally sourced food,  at a more local price.  Even in the city we spent less on that meal than we did at In and Out burger for two in San Francisco. And ate far better, with much better, and quieter company...

We have debated upgrading our tickets to a membership.  For a bit more you can get a yearly membership, which includes discounts at the café and gift shop, free admission, and free parking. Given it's proximity to Oldest's school, his free membership, and that there are other exhibits we'd like to see, it could be a very good option for us.  We could catch an exhibit and Oldest could join us for dinner there. 

Anyhoo...

The rest of the week was spent on my healing, a bit of therapy, and assuring the dog we would never leave her again. September is bringing a whole new schedule. New mind sets. Better weather. 

And new posts, still waiting to be written....

We've Turned A Corner....

 I should have just stayed home.

You could have.  Why did you come?

I knew it was important to you.

I wanted you to come because it was important to you, not because it was important to me.

I waited a long time to write this because I wanted to gain some prospective first. We've been home for roughly two weeks now.  Family trips have been harder and harder to plan, and with Oldest away potentially for the next two years, and Youngest, well, being Youngest, I knew it was now or never. Bonus son stopped doing family trips (with exception of one) when he was around 16 so I knew this could go either way. As you may have already guessed, it did not go the way of happy rekindled family togetherness.

We flew to San Francisco for the first leg of the trip.  Youngest had stayed up all night in the hopes of sleeping on the plane. He fell asleep while texting in the airport that he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep on the plane. Traveling with teens is fun. He flew sans pot, as to not get caught up in security, and neglected to tell any of us that he had quit nicotine that morning as well.  Needless to say, upon arriving at our hotel, he promptly took off, angry, frustrated, and in withdrawal. Oldest, Hubs, and I went for dinner on Fisherman's Wharf, later to be joined by Oldest's girlfriend. She informed us that the smell was not in fact low tide, or the sea lions, but the smell of urine from the immense homeless population. Between that, the city wide vax card and mask mandate put in place the day we arrived, and the overcast cold weather, this was not looking so good. Youngest eventually found his way back to the hotel and once they got him settled, we headed to Ghirardelli Square, which thankfully did not smell like urine, but chocolate. 

The line for the sundaes was long, but they made quick work of it.  Hubs and I wandered while they were in line, purchasing some chocolate bars, and Knick Knacks from the other stores in the square.  After ice cream, we finished off the night at the arcade and played some SF themed mini golf. 

Youngest fell asleep there too.  We headed back to the hotel where Youngest again zonked out for the night, and Oldest headed out for some extra time with the girl. When we woke in the morning Youngest had yet another meltdown about her being there (despite him being asked ahead if it would bother him), so we headed out for an early morning walk on Pier 39. 

There is something so serene about walking a tourist area as the sun rises. While there were some people around, mostly workers, it allowed us to take it all in.

We talked.  We walked. He didn't want to be there. I wished he had stayed home. But he calmed down and headed to breakfast.  Hubs met us, but when the conversation turned political (insert mask AND card mandate for all indoor venues) Youngest headed back to the hotel on his own.  Once we got back we rallied everyone together and headed for our Redwoods tour.  There was a quick photo op at the Golden Gate, which Oldest, the structural engineer, loved. 

The redwood tour was very good.  Our guide was knowledgeable, and all the paths in the Muir Woods lead back into each other so there was no fear of getting lost.  Youngest, of course, went on his own.  Later, as we doubled back, Hubs looked to his right only to find him meditating in a red wood.  Pretty sure that's not allowed, but he was vibe-in'. It was his first smile of the entire trip. 

We were given specific instructions to return to the van at 11 am. And most of the people did, including us. It seems that a couple, old enough to know better, lost track of time, and was over 30 minutes late coming back.  With no cell service, we were stuck waiting, which of course, irritated everyone. This left us only 30 minutes to eat in Sausalito, which was fine for the couple that was late, but definitely not time for 5 of us to even get ice cream. 

Once back to the hotel, I made the heartbreaking decision to make an errand run for Youngest.  It was clear he was in significant withdrawal and I couldn't handle that he was going to ruin the rest of the trip for us. I was in significant pain as my diverticulitis was in full flare by this point, and knew the stress of him was not going to help. He zonked out shortly after, and Oldest, the girl, Hubs and I hit Pier 39 again for dinner and shopping. Oldest took off to see other parts of SF, where he watched a car get broken into, and a homeless guy steal food right off someone's plate and eat it in front of them. 

To say we are not fans of SF is an understatement. 

But the new day dawned and we headed to the Immersive Van Gogh exhibit I was looking so forward to...

For the forty dollars I felt it was well worth the money.  The show runs about an hour, and includes most of his works projected and harmonized onto the walls.  Youngest loved it in his new found happy state. Hubs thinks he wasn't a very good artist.

Then we were on to Santa Cruz.  We took the Pacific Coast Highway, on which the boys fell asleep, so Hubs and I were left to see the scenery.  It's amazing to see all of the farms literally along side the Pacific Ocean. The high cliffs and wind blown dunes are definitely different than what we have here on the East Coast. 

Santa Cruz, while still overcast and chilly, is the quintessential old school Cali....

Our hotel was fantastic and steps from the beach.  The board walk was like an old school carnival.  Sadly, Trip Advisor failed to mention that since the kids were now back at school, it was closed during the week. So yeah, the two things we would have loved, the beach and the boardwalk rides, were off the table. Oldest, of course, took off with the girl most of the time, and Youngest took up with one of the girls that worked at the hotel and went on adventures with her for most of the next two days. One of the adventures I later found out included a dusk hike into the woods behind the University of Santa Cruz.  Seriously, it's a wonder he's still alive. 

The boys are big on Gold's gym, and while we couldn't go to the Gold's gym which was 5 hours away, I did manage to find one in Monterey.  So, off we went, but not before seeing Cannery Row and The Monterey Aquarium. 

Honestly, I wish we could have spent more time at Cannery Row. It was really cool, but I was not getting any better, and the trip was definitely wearing on us all.  We decided to not do the 17 mile drive on the way back, as it would mean 3 more hours in the car, and so we returned to our hotel on the beach for a quiet dinner, just us two, as we had been promptly abandoned by the others. 

We had several travel hiccups at the airport, both for us and Oldest who was flying to Santa Barbara for the week instead of home with us. But we all survived. And Oldest made it home a week later just under the wire, while the remnants of Hurricane Ida rolled through the area. I found some antibiotics left over from my last flare and that subsided the pain until I could get to my doctor for a full prescription. The stress and travel crazy had blown into a pretty significant infection, which thankfully I was able to head off before needing a hospital stay.

And I am never planning another family trip again.

We've moved past family fun.  They've grown, and we all have different interests now. Youngest only wants to do day trips that he can pack what he wants and bail when he can.  Oldest and I will likely head to Iceland on our own, as the dog didn't eat for five days she was missing the Hubs so much. From here on out I will plan trips, tell them, and if the come they come, if not, fine. Nine months of research that no one looked at, in a place that they picked, not me, and 6 months of back breaking overtime to pay for it all. 

We've turned the corner.  

It may not have been the one I wanted or hoped for, but at least we all know which sides of the street we're on.