Getaway

Weekend getaways.  Fun and relaxation.  Unwind and get away from the daily schedules.

My mom, 1967

We don’t get away very often.  Because …  it’s just too much work.   You see, there’s the farm and the chores and the employees and the customers who call at the last minute needing something RIGHT NOW.   It was even worse when we raised livestock.  Just as we were packing up the car, a hog would die and need to be buried.   The feed truck would break down.  The automatic water system would freeze up or stop altogether.  The employee who promised he could take care of things for the weekend would suddenly fall deathly ill.   There was always something.

So it should be a little easier now, right?   No livestock.  No kids still at home.  Just my husband and me to get ready.   Then some guy in a pickup truck and a trailer drives in and needs some PVC pipe or a lid for his septic tank.  The invoice I emailed to a customer cannot be opened because the customer has an ancient computer (is there such a thing?) and they need to take it to the bank TODAY!  The toilet plugs (I’m not going to pass that information along until we get back home)  An old colleague that we haven’t seen in 15 years just happens to be in the neighborhood for a few hours.  My husband gets yet another kidney stone.   (Believe it or not, that has delayed 3 vacations)   The list is endless and I could probably write an entire book .

The excitement leading up to a getaway  fades into oblivion and I am just about ready to unpack and say to heck with the whole idea.  Then my husband comes tearing into the house, strips out of his dirty clothes and hits the shower yelling, “Are you ready yet?”

As we head out the door and throw our suitcases into the back of the car…… the phone is ringing.  My husband doesn’t hear it and I pretend I don’t.

We’re off.

Oh, and that picture above of my mom in the trunk of our 63 Chevy Bel-Air…. she was coming home, not leaving.   That’s why she’s so happy!

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