This ride is about to stop

Hello, Amanda.

I'm back from vacation, making that slow and uneasy re-entry to my real life. It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and I'm sitting here in shorts and a camisole sans bra, i.e., my pajamas. My bags are spread out over my living room floor, open but still packed, as if I'm considering zipping them up and running back out of the house. You'll note I'm not out at the pool, despite the shining sun, because I know if I were to go out today, I would lie there alternately wishing I were back in Newport and admonishing myself for not unpacking yet. I need that day's worth of space between vacation and reality. Tomorrow I'll sit out wishing I hadn't wasted a day of summer vacation by not sitting by the pool, even though I'm not sure my skin is capable of producing any more melanin, because my days are numbered. Ugh. (More on that later. )

Newport was great! It started with showers and stress (L gave in and M&V et. al. came for dinner the first night. I honored myself: opted out and stayed behind to read), so Wednesday was my settling in day. Then, other than some pop up showers Friday night that L and S, my cousin D and her daughter (we'll call her P, for Princess) and I got caught in during our girls' night out, the weather was perfect. We had sun every day and spent every afternoon, and sometimes part of the morning and/or the evening by and in the pool. Even Sunday, after checking out of the unit by 10, we loaded and locked our cars then headed to the pool again. D and P left a little earlier than the rest of us; I followed L&J, S and C out of the parking lot at 4.

I think what I love the most about vacation in Newport is that it feels like home--it being the condo and the whole experience. Because I have been a part of their Newport vacation since they bought the place (I think this was our 7th year) (and used to go every summer during high school with my cousin D and her friends) when we are in Newport together it feels like a home away from home. It certainly helps that I am quite comfortable sharing space and daily living with my sister L and her family thanks to the many overnights I have spent at L's and my close relationship with them all.

The view through the windows is different (and stunning!) but when we're inside we're just a family sharing bathrooms and fending for ourselves for breakfast, trying not to get in one an other's way yet enjoying each other's company; when we step outside the air is different , unmistakeably scented with ocean, and we're walking distance away from everything and anything. While at the pool it's just as easy to run in and grab something for lunch when you get hungry (and are sick of goldfish) as it is to throw some clothes on over your bathing suit and get some take-out if that's what you feel like. Usually we stick around the pool though, each of us making a quick trip in for lunch (and more ice) and more interesting snacks that we'll often prepare for the group and share. We've done the touristy things already and don't feel compelled to do all the pricey shopping (been there, done that, bought the t-shirt--literally), but if we do, we go when we feel like it. It doesn't need to be a family field trip to go shopping. Then dinner we usually do together. We like to eat out but it's no longer a crap shoot; we know what restaurants we like and don't mind going to the same one twice during the week. We're also up for trying new places or staying in. We don't mind cooking in or cooking out on the grill. And usually do.

So that's the set up, the daily non-monotonous routine. Once a year we live in Newport for a week (or part of one). We live a privileged life. It's hard to be disappointed when you're surrounded by sail boats and yachts. We relax and abandon calorie counts and email accounts. We spoil the kids and take turns going in the pool with them to keep them supervised and entertained. We leave a little bloated and usually tan, but always reluctantly. Sometimes things stick in our heads--"that was the year C was a baby," for example. The details, the out-of-the-ordinary that I think we'll remember years from now about Newport '08 is that it was the year of the ambush, D was there with P, and my boyfriend W visited. Today I refuse to write/think about the ambush, know that D deserves an entry all her own, and acknowledge that I probably should write more about W's visit than "it was nice," but that's what you get today, A. Vacation in Newport was great; it always is....

But now it's back to reality....

The only good thing I came home to, besides my own comfy bed and things I like to surround myself with, was an entry from you. (Thanks!) After lugging my bags in, I opened my mail, and found that one of my bank accounts is overdrawn (I forgot to note a couple debit transactions, so now I owe fees as well). (Sucks that I don't get paid again until August 29.) I also had an electric bill for July that was 2x the amount of June. Yikes. So I'm beyond broke, and--because I'm 43--don't want to ask my dad for help. Brake lights are one thing, but asking for money from my father says I'm a failure. I won't do it. The third and perhaps worst blow was my letter from the superintendent. Honestly, I'm not sure why I bother opening it anymore. It always comes in August, just when we're holding on to vacation with dear life (often dying for a paycheck, like me, but not wanting to reenter the work force) and it always says the same thing inside and out. The convocation schedule is the same every year and I frankly don't care to read the anecdote the superintendent has crafted to pepper his annual we should be grateful to be part of this wonderful profession and have this coveted summer vacation that is quickly coming to an end message. The envelope itself says it all; holding it in my hands I know that This ride is about to stop, which renders the letter inside unnecessary.

Last night, as I threw that letter in my recycle pile with the catalogs I can't shop from , I thought, I want to be back in Newport. This year more than ever.

Thanks again for my welcome back message. I'm glad for you that the ceremonies are over, that things went okay, and that you're ready for (craving) life back to normal.

Love, Barb