It is our standard departure scenario.
Though the separation anxiety is strong, we do finally accept we
cannot take our house with us when we travel. If it only had wheels
or wings. But alas, it is not very aerodynamic, and made of fieldstone.
Yesterday, my first day of vacation, we started leaving. Thanks to 36
hours of prep and packing, we are now pulling away from the house
a little past 12pm.
The weather is going to be lousy for the 4th weekend, as it has been
for the entire summer so far. We head up through Connecticut on I84
and seem to be heading into storms at every turn, but then after a
few minutes, the threatening skies are sliding to the side of us. So
the entire trip goes--towering clouds all around, but only a few
occasional drops on the windshield.
At one point a plane shadow slashed precisely across the car.
Halfway through Massachusetts a dark Nissan SUV sidles up next
to us and its Beth, Paul and KP, smiling and waving. They left
Connecticut even later that we left New York ("two vehicles
traveling at different speeds from different starting points...").
We watch them pull ahead purposefully. They have a lake house
to get up and running.
Nerves have my stomach always playing tricks on me, and one
consequence is I drink a lot of water, and therefor, being 46, fairly
frequently and urgently need to find a rest stop. No sooner do I say
to Leslie, "thank god the Vermont Welcome Center is 5 minutes
away" than the flow of traffic grinds to a halt, and signs announcing
road work and single lane ahead appear in the distance.
The travel gods are having fun.
Its at the VWC we catch up to Beth and family. We chase KP
around for half an hour or so and relax to varying degrees
(I don't know how Beth does it--the little guy is like a nuclear
powered Energizer Bunny). The sun is hot. It's nice to see
Annabelle enjoy being the big cousin--she's really great with
all her younger relatives.
We stop again somewhere below White River Junction, and
Annabelle runs around barefoot in the grass. We have a race,
and my knee allows me to keep pace, which seems almost a miracle.
We pull into the Hampton Inn in Littleton around 8pm. A poster board
sign in the lobby proclaims Obama stayed here during the 2008 campaign.
"Maybe we'll have the Presidential suite!" muses Annabelle.
Downtown Littleton offers something of a food and arts scene
so we check out Chang Thai Cafe for a late dinner. Travel days
always do a number on my stomach and head, so I don't know
why I went with spicy Thai food. Annabelle, the finicky eater,
deemed the chicken satay and rice acceptable. The owners and
staff were really hospitable and friendly, and perhaps being as
we were the only customers at this hour, they let Annabelle play
with a giant stuffed elephant and have full run of the place. We
all spent time oogling baby Taylor who was holding court in his
playpen by the cash register, his grandma watching over him.
Back at hotel, we promised Annabelle could swim before she
went to bed, so she was in and out of the pool and hot tub until
about 11pm. I don't know how kids can swim around in an
unheated pool then plunge into a hotub for a second before
jumping right back in the pool.
Shea Lilly and Annabelle
Also, the pool room was full of families (were the accents Russian?) at this late hour, and Annabelle sought out another girl who looked close to her age to talk with. They would interact a bit then seemed fine to go back to their own agendas.
The next morning (the 4th) I was paying the full price for the Thai meal, as Annabelle and I went downstairs right at the end of breakfast. In the small area, almost a crush of people, many from the pool last night, now vying for dwindling breakfast resources. Feeling woozy, I try to help Annabelle find something to eat after it becomes apparent pancakes are not on the minimal menu. Fortunately, she's ok with the last packet of maple oatmeal I find, in addition to toast and cheerios. Initially there didn't seem to be any open seating available, but I kept eyeing a small table that had a bagel and piece of bread sitting on it. After a few minutes passed the unclaimed food seemed less and less likely to be some kind of place holder, and I swooped in.
Back to the pool. Annie swimming as the pool cleaning guy goes about his duties.
Lunch at a place called 99. Waitress seems a bit frosty.
