A Vacation Of Sorts

Farmer H and the boys are off for a tour of the upper midwest on Friday. They plan to visit the Black Hills of South Dakota, Mount Rushmore, Garden of the Gods, and Pike's Peak. I've been there, done that. So I will be remaining at the Mansion on a staycation. My mom may join me for a regular old-fashioned hen-fest. Plans are still up in the air on the details.

Farmer H says that they will be taking the train to the top of Pike's Peak. He says he can not drive up there while looking over the side. Considering Farmer H's penchant for sweaving, I think the train is a good idea. My dad drove us up and down The Peak. I remember many switchbacks, and cars out of commission due to overheated brakes. It didn't bother me then, but now I would get all lightheaded like during the opening credits of The Shining.

I packed for The Pony, but Gummi Mary only knows what the #1 son will cram in a bag. I anticipate laundry overtime when they return. Farmer H has plugged in his car fridge, which supposedly operates on car battery power. The last time we took it on a trip, it did not cool our beverages. It was like a needy, power-hungry, upright trunk for storing cans of liquid refreshment. Farmer H declared that you must put COLD cans in the car fridge. Which kind of defeats the purpose, if you ask me. Couldn't you just do that with a regular cooler? Put cold cans in it, and expect them to stay cold? For much less expense? I advised Farmer H to take some soda in the motel overnight, and put it in the mini-fridge. His idea was just to buy it cold at convenience stores along the way. For quadruple the price, of course. That man does not have a penny-pinching bone in his body. Except for the time he advised the dentist just to pull my molar instead of doing a root canal. I still point to the gaping gum-hole when I want to make a point.

My plans include doing as I darn well please, eating meals whenever I feel like it, answering to no one, reading, writing, turning the TV up as loud as I want, sleeping without breather exhaust being force-fed to my lungs, missing my boys, and worrying about the safe return of my family from their tour of Tornado Alley.

I might be lacking blog material.