One Last-Minute Final Vacation

Ever since I got back from Oregon, I've been fixated on buying a house in Astoria. I've been wasting tons of time perusing the real estate web sites and I found two perfect vacation homes: one little blue bungalow or shack (old but in mostly original condition) and a yellow Victorian. I was set on it. I had talked to the realtor. I had my trip back to Oregon planned. Since my husband's in India, I had my dad fly into SLC from St. Louis to drive with me and check them out. Then a couple days before I was set to leave, both my houses sold. Just like that. Within 24 hours of each other. I was heartbroken.

My dad still arrived on Sunday. We decided instead to drive to my sister's house in L.A. and visit her. She's a little sad that she lives there because she has none of her family around (I feel her pain), so we thought we'd visit. Plus, I still hadn't seen her baby Anna who was born in June. So, dad, Bianca, Tigger (yes, we brought the damn dog), and I jumped in the car and started driving.

It reminded me of when my dad used to fly out after my semesters in college and drive back with me to St. Louis. We'd drive through the night. Back then, I'd drive until two or three in the morning, then I'd relinquish the reins so I could get a couple hours of sleep. Every time, without fail, I'd be startled awake and we'd be parked in some random rest area or strip mall and dad would be sleeping. I'd promptly grab another Coke and pull dad out of the driver's side and start driving for another hour or so, then it would happen all over again. That's just the way it was.

This time, it wasn't quite as bad. But it's funny how that rule (you know, two people must be awake at all times) is fully applicable until somebody gets tired--"you don't mind if I take a quick nap?" "No dad, go ahead. I'm wide awake."

I drove through Las Vegas with an entire sleeping car and watched the lights and the magic of the city unfold before me (while listening to "Big Band" hour on a local radio station--have I ever told you how I feel like an old soul?--I guess that'll be another blog down the line). It's beautiful until you drive through the heart of the city, where I was stalled in traffic at 10:30 p.m. (I guess that's the city-that-never-sleeps' rush hour, huh?) and it's not quite as beautiful when husky, bleach-blonde, scantily clad women are eyeing me from their stately bill boards along the freeway. Ahhh, every city has its good and its bad.

We got there around two in the morning, tripped to sleep on an air mattress, and woke the next morning. We had a good time. Bianca got to play in the waves at the beach two days. We went to the park. We had a great little barbecue one night and roasted s'mores, and even set up the tent so the kids could "camp" in the yard (however, Bianca wouldn't stay in there without me, and I prefered the air mattress inside).

Jewel (who I used to love through college) was playing a free concert Wednesday night at The Grove (an outdoor shopping mall), so we braved the crowds and went. I ate a pretty mediocre pretzel dog and waited. When Jewel finally came on, I couldn't see her. People were crowding my personal space. People everywhere. If you get up, your chair is gone. Someone snatches it before you even notice it's gone. And I realized, that's it, that's why I could never live in California. There are so many great things about it--the beach, the weather, the palm trees, the breeze, but it's so wonderful that EVERYONE wants to enjoy it and the EVERYONE part is what brings it down. I couldn't live amongst the billions.

We left yesterday and were stuck in stop-and-go traffic in mid-day for hours. It's good to be home. I staggered in around 2:30 this morning, played my messages, and found several frantic messages from a neighbor who was wondering why my blinds weren't closed at night. I'd left in such a hurry on Sunday, I hadn't even told anyone I was leaving. One of the best things about living in Salt Lake City: my neighbors who are always watching out for me and who I've gotta tell next time I'm leaving on a last-minute vacation.