How Was That Vacation Anyway?

Like most things in life it can be summed up as "Good, bad, and not long enough." But that doesn't make for a very good blog entry now does it?

The drive itself was not as bad as expected. That's not to say it was pleasant. It helped that Dave accepted that he was handling the bulk of the driving, and I didn't have the anxiety of worrying about possibly driving. Besides, the one time that we switched off, which I agreed to because it was two lane roads, we discovered that he stinks as a navigator and he kept missing turns.

I did not take the Xanax. I didn't get to test drive it before I left. I was far too busy packing up five people's belongings. Everyone had underwear when we got there so we'll call it a success. I did however feel a little better having the Xanax on hand as an insurance policy.

I got through the drive with a few prayers to St. Christopher (thank you Eileen for reminding me) and text messages to my own personal saint, Jeannette, who gave up most of four days to keep me occupied sending messages to and fro. We arrived in Myrtle Beach and back home again, in one piece and mostly sane thanks to my two patron saints. They couldn't really help out with the general tendency toward insanity I possessed beforehand.

The beach was, as expected, fabulous. I adore the beach, the sea, the sun, the sand, the surf, the sights, the smells, the sounds. I sat on a balcony sipping wine at night watching the waves practically beneath my feet. We were THAT CLOSE. I watched dolphins breaking the surface of the water every morning from the living room window. I took a walk every morning on the beach and allowed whim to decide if I should turn right or left that day.

On the third day there I discovered my 8 plus year old bathing suits were beginning to lose their, um, OOMPH. I dragged my eight and five year olds to the Beach Shop under the pretense of getting them body boards while I shopped for a new bathing suit. The suit in question could be paired with a skirted bottom or a regular brief bottom. When I chose the skirted bottom the saleslady agreed with my choice and commented that it looked much nicer, plus, "You've got the baby."

Baby? What baby? I left her in the condo napping. How does she know about..........?

Oh. I get it.

There goes my new found self-confidence in my recent weight loss.

I paid for my suit and skulked out of the store instead of reminding her of that classic piece of advice from comedian Sean Morey,

"I do not assume a woman is pregnant unless I see an ACTUAL LIVE BABY emerging from her vagina in front of me."