M & I are going on vacation this week. Just. The. Two. Of. Us. We are dropping the kids at my parents and going because we really need to spend some time alone together (the 8 hour plane ride to Utah ought to help) and we haven't been away from A since he was born (19 months people!) and I've forgotten how to talk to him if the kids aren't around or about any subject other than the kids, house, plumbing, work.
This vacation will be vastly different though, because our previous vacations have almost always include a sun-drenched island, minimal clothing and lots of sunscreen. This year we're going to Park City to go skiing - me for the very first time ever! I hear we'll still need the sunscreen, but the clothing is far from minimal. We've got parkas, gloves and long underwear but will have to get ski pants and socks and hats when we get to Utah because such items are just not readily available in Florida. And, to be honest, I'm dead nervous about learning to ski. I spend a good deal of time worrying about what would happen around here if I were to get sick or break something, and here I am preparing to pack my body into insulated clothing and hurl myself down a snow-covered mountain (or hill, as the case may be). I am signed up for lessons (the Adult Never-Ever Class), of course. Because you want to be taught how to hurl yourself properly.
Of course, before I can get on that plane and relax, I've got the 48 Hours of Hell in front of me as I attempt to pack two weeks worth of errands, chores, laundry and packing into the next two days.