The Joys of the Repeat Vacation

I wrote this right before the Fourth of July.

This post is about the joys of the repeat vacation, the comforts of returning year after year to the same place, and the anticipation that goes along with it. It's the kind of vacation many of us took as kids, whether it was to a family cottage (for those lucky enough), or in my case, a Howard Johnson's near the Astrodome in Houston, where we spent many summer weekends. The anticipation of repeating the simple pleasures we experienced there each year--the swimming pool, the duck pond, stopping at Stuckey's store for pecan logs, were almost as fun as actually experiencing them.

One of my our favorite repeat vacations these days is Calistoga, California. Tomorrow, we leave chilly, windy San Francisco to head up to Napa town for the weekend. It's a destination that's been establishing itself as a sort of ritual getaway for us for years--first for our more indulgent pre-baby selves, sometimes for me and myself alone, and now, as a place to go as a overscheduled, relaxation-starved family. The draws of Calistoga are obvious--it's an adorable small town in the gorgeous Wine Country, it's geologically blessed with an abundance of natural hot springs and a handful of cheerful motels to stay in while you take the waters, and this weekend, we were delighted to learn, there's an annual Fourth of July parade and county fair. I can't wait to ride kiddie rides with Alice, and actually feel the heat of summer as I watch a small-town parade.

Perhaps the best part of our ritual vacation is that we're returning to a hotel we stayed at last Labor Day, the Calistoga Spa Hot Springs Resort, a slightly kitschy complex of pools and motel rooms that is a bit past its prime, but it has a children's pool, picnic tables, and a main pool that hits the perfect 102 degrees at night--heaven. The room almost smells a little like the HoJo rooms i remember from childhood--your basic motel. We know exactly what we'll do for the two days--just like our last couple of trips, we'll spend much of it soaking in the mineral waters, browsing around Lincoln Avenue, a cute Main Street with a good book store, lots of cafes, and a breakfast place we like called Hydro Grill. We'll also watch TV while the AC drones, a summer pleasure that is exotic for San Franciscans.

The actual experience of the trip will be, I'm sure, relaxing and enjoyable, but fraught with the unpredictability any travel with a small child brings. I know reading a magazine in a chaise lounge is going to be just what I need for a couple of days. But, I truly believe the best part is the way Bill and I keep looking at each other and saying "Calistoga," as if it were an endpoint, a light at the end of a tunnel. We smile and wink, and roll our eyes as if to say, "soon enough, we'll be relaxing."

Taking care of business

Here is a short list of the shit (for lack of a better term) I've gotten done the last week or so, mostly the last two days: Finalized renter's insurance, negotiated a payment plan with the IRS, gotten my annual skin check, two fillings refilled, checked in with my OB/gyn to schedule a minor but uncomfortable procedure for June, filed for power of attorney to take care of my dad's business when we move him to the Bay Area, dealt with the painter who installed a new bathroom cabinet and got an estimate for painting the dining room, met the housecleaners (luxury problem, I know--but it's a once every few months kind of thing), found an assisted living place for my father, ordered groceries online from Safeway, waited for delivery guy, booked flights for four to and from Vegas, booked a hotel, arranged house and petsitting, and on and on and on. All of this while working full time, commuting more than 2 hours a day, and spending as much time with my daughter and husband as possible. I feel like I've leapt out of an issue of Oprah magazine--a feature called "How Real Women Deal with Everyday Stress." Or something like that. The scary thing: I'm okay. I think.

I know it's insane, and honestly, it's not something I'd seriously consider, but let's just say that for the last couple of weeks, I've become mildly fixated on the idea of relocating back to the part of the country I grew up in. I'll blame it partly on "Treme," the new series from HBO that my husband and I have gotten completely sucked into, and lest one think I'm so impressionable that a TV show would convince me to move somewhere, let it be known that "The Wire," an equally adored show produced by the same team, emphatically did not make me want to move to Baltimore.

Okay, so, a month or so into this blog thing and I still haven't committed. I've only shown it to one person (my sister is waiting to be the second) and not even my husband knew i was "blogging." Because I'm not. It feels more like a journal I keep for myself, on the computer. I am searching for a name and a "theme" or at least some context. I am jealous that my sister (the one who is lucky enough to be living in Paris at the moment) found such a cool arc for her own blog Blue Paris--but maybe it's easier when you're an expatriate--the themes reveal themselves a bit more. For me, I am torn between writing about motherhood, my weird job in Silicon Valley, my desire to expose my child to nature--which would fall under motherhood I guess, the complex journey of moving my father into assisted living, or just other random things that come into my brain. I am equally envious of Rachel (New York Lost and Found) and her gorgeously textured images and always fascinating themes (to me at least, but I've known her for 15 years). Still, she's found a home for herself, or at least a voice. I'll get there.

Friday afternoon, ready to end the work week. Had lunch a good friend whose going through a difficult divorce and saw local celebrity Benjamin Bratt at the cafe--kind of a fun distraction. It's amazing how my friend who is going through this awful situation still ends up consoling me about whatever I have going on--bless her. Glad I can still make time for lunchdates now and then, so vital to connect with people face to face when so much of life is lived online. Then I dashed to my dentist to have some work done on an old filling. Now, I've always prided myself on being a trooper at the dentist--it's never really bothered me, but today, they had to keep giving me more oral painkiller and I was getting quite agitated in the chair, thinking about those days when there was no anaesthesia, oh brother, calming myself, doing a bit of hypnotherapy visualization. Lately life has been full of this sort of thing--getting routine annoying medical stuff done, and makes me thankful that I'm in good health overall.

Here's to a hopefully good weekend. We have a babysitter for five hours tomorrow--maybe we'll see a movie : )

Working from home today on this gray day with little bits of sun. Reminds me of my old freelance life a bit--the way you can intersperse work with personal business, all while watching reruns of Sex in the City. Spent a half hour on the phone with the IRS--a call I dreaded making and am so relieved I did. Thank goodness for installment plans. Oh, and while i was looking for those tax files, found my new driver's license that I thought I'd lost already (after going to the DMV twice to get it in the first place). The quest to get organized goes on.

This week marks the 10th anniversary of meeting my husband, Bill. Time is a funny thing--we are so caught up in the sweep of life (and quotidian details)--childcare, work, aging parents, money, that we forget to just be a couple. I hope this weekend we can channel some of that early, giddy energy we felt 10 years ago after meeting at a bar in the Mission, shyly exchanging numbers and emails, then slowly beginning to date. Here's to a decade together--all that's happened and all that's to come.

Friday and an iced latte at Martha's, my local coffeehouse. I'm almost done working and will go get Alice in a little bit. Missing my sister in Paris today after a particularly poignant email from her about the complexities of living in a foreign city. She was supposed to meet a new friend and his fiancee for a drink tonight but got lost in the Marais, and ended up missing the rendezvous, and walked home alone, feeling a little defeated. Having lived there a short time myself, nearly 10 years ago, I remember that feeling exactly. Language barriers, maps of streets with names like Rue de Antoine and Rue Faubourg de Antoine...(I'm probably spelling them wrong) . She also is a bit isolated and worried about our dad--so I guess life really does follow you wherever you are. Still, she is having spring in Paris...so it is all worth it.

My spring is glorious today, also--San Francisco is in full flower though more rain is on the way this weekend I hear. Tomorrow we are touring an assisted living place to see if my dad could live there. Not looking forward to it--so many other things to do on a Saturday, but I need to make some decisions.