Staycation

It's February break. A week in the middle of winter when educators are not educating our children. When they dispel us New England Small Towners to our own devices -- a private plane to Florida maybe? a ski house "up North"?  Yes and Yes for some and also, um, not so much for lots of others.

We once rented a ski place, me and my sister. We dug out the driveway with our kids because the husbands had to work (at last minute) and found our way into this rather lovely house with a lovely view and it was divine. But my sister abhors skiing (it is very, very hard to smoke while skiing; I know this my own self) but she loves the GFYO (who was the GTYO at the time) so all in all, it worked out.  I wish she and me were there right now, waiting on the dudes to come (which they always do), tending to extremely sleepy-from-skiing kids who are so easy to put to bed, and skipping our own dinner for a feast of Fritos and beer and delicious chat instead.  

We had good intentions to repeat it this year actually -- booked a place at my old mountain that would fit all ten of us -- and started thinking about who would cook what and when. And then? And then, we started (separately) to worry: we should save! we should spend! we should save! we should spend! And as if picking petals off a daisy... 

Well, we're both home this week. She's two states away, sadly, and there is only so much beer drinking and chip eating you can do over the phone (though, we are EXPERTS at both -- especially over the phone), and we're starting to see grass in the yard here, so even sledding is out.

So, that's right folks, I'll be here all week. Be kind to your waitress.

And buy me a drink.