weekend trip

I took my last trip of any distance for awhile this past weekend. My dear grandma Dorothy – my mother’s mother – turned 90 on Sunday, and my aunt planned and executed a wonderful party and fitting tribute to an amazing lady on Saturday. (I’m trying to curb my use of the word ‘amazing,’ but with my grandma, it just seems to fit. In a quiet, understated way, if that’s possible.)

Matt decided he could spare the vacation time this time around, and came along, which was wonderful. Lizzy and I both really enjoyed being with him. And Lizzy was in raptures, playing with her five girl cousins for two whole days. My brother and his family ended up staying at the same motel where we, and my parents, were, so it was one big jolly family occasion. Seriously, good times. The tiny indoor pool could’ve definitely been warmer – I kept returning to the hot tub (I know! Verboten for the pregnant ladies!) for relief, but then I’d have to get back into the semi-frigid waters to play with Lizzy. Naturally, the intermittent change of temps only made it worse.

Grandma’s party was great. We congregated at the Methodist church that Grandma has attended for decades – where I was baptized, and where my parents were married. It did me good to see the next generation of little ones “exploring” the back hallways and slightly creepy choir rehearsal rooms, etc. Lizzy and her cousins had a blast. I didn’t see them sliding down the banisters, which I seem to remember doing with my cousins when we thought no adults were looking. The party was better attended than a family reunion would have been; Grandma’s one of those people you just want to honor. She has a peaceful, wise way about her, yet she’s also quite funny, and if you’re playing cards with her (a favorite pastime), you know she’s fiercely competitive. She’s content with her lot, and yet not one to let opportunities pass her by – my parents and I accompanied her (and others from her church) to Israel seven years ago. Man – a lot has happened in those seven years.

Another aunt of mine made some great food, and we got an opportunity to share favorite memories of Dorothy. I loved hearing what others had to say about my grandma, and realized with a bit of surprise that others cherish and appreciate her as much as I do. What a neat legacy. Matt got a kick out of seeing lots of photos of me in my youth, adolescence and young adulthood. (blech on all counts – I’ve looked my best when eight and younger, and 22 and older. In my humble opinion. Naturally, most of the photos he saw fell in between those times.) I loved the photos of my grandma and grandpa, looking young and glamorous (grandma), and young and less follicularly challenged (grandpa).

Aside from the party, and Matt inexplicably walking into the women’s bathroom during our post-birthday party meal at a fancy-ish restaurant (“I was wondering why there weren’t any urinals!”), and Lizzy and the cousins attempting to feed dinner rolls to the decorative koi at the same restaurant, the visit was nicely uneventful and low-key. I was cringing in fear of political conversations and the like, but for the most part, we were controversy-free. Matt kept exclaiming how much he loved the weather. The wet, gray weather so typical of the Seattle area in winter. “Kinda cold, though,” he said. “Yeah, well, it IS February,” I responded. Why on earth must I be with a man who allegedly loves wet, gray skies, and yet wants to live in Virginia? Something seems distinctly unfair about that.

The trips to and fro, though – now, those were a different story. I pretty much expect the worst when I fly, especially cross-country, but there was at least one new low this time around. Three of our four planes were delayed – in one case, by three hours – but again, that’s pretty much expected. Our luggage all arrived in both directions; we did manage to get seats together (we flew Southwest, so I got us into the earliest boarding group); we had some stomach-churning turbulence at one point when landing in Las Vegas on the return trip, but we survived it. Lizzy’s DVD player never died. All good things.

On the way there, we managed to depart Chicago despite snowfall – a big relief. Someone on the plane, though, was a bit too relieved, so to speak. An elderly lady had apparently been having tummy troubles for ‘two or three days’ (so I later overheard), but thought she’d go ahead and get on the plane anyway. Ten minutes into the flight (and at times throughout), she had acute diarrhea. I am here to attest that the flight attendants did their best with the situation, but there’s only so much one can do. So, for 4 ½ hours, we inhaled horrid fumes. Now again, I expect lots of sensory assault when I fly, but I never thought it’d be quite this bad. Folks, when you’re sick, please don’t fly. Please. A plea from me to you. And she was throwing up, too, in the later stages of the flight. I was insanely grateful that I was in the second, not first, trimester of pregnancy, because my sense of supersmell has been blunted somewhat. Otherwise, I’d probably have been throwing up along with her.

On the way back, we had what was supposed to be a four-hour layover in Vegas. Sweet!! I figured we couldn’t let it go to waste. A later-than-advertised start out of Seattle meant that our time was cut into somewhat, but we bombed out of the airport anyway to see what we could see. Matt spent a few days there in 2006 with his friends, so he relished the opportunity to show us around a bit. We wandered through the Venetian – Lizzy was impressed with the ceiling that looked like clouds. I was a little more sickened by the gambling atmosphere than I expected. But fascinated by the surroundings in general. We took as quick a stroll up the street as we could – we were aiming for the Bellagio, where Matt thought the FAO Schwartz store was, but we couldn’t find it (we were told it was at Caesar’s Palace, actually) and had to scurry back to the airport. It’s the only city in America, I’ll bet, in which the blocks seem longer than in D.C.

It was a weird, windy, slightly rainy day in Vegas. The Super Bowl started during our layover, and Matt was trying to avoid contact with it. Which made me laugh, because loudspeakers were booming out the play-by-play from bars on the street. It surely cleared the place out! The weird little guys handing out pamphlets advertising callgirls didn’t have many other people to thrust them at. I got a kick out of seeing them handed to men who were walking down the street with their girlfriends or wives. We were toting a kid in a stroller, so they didn’t seem overly interested in us, but some tried just the same. Yyyyeah.

All in all, it seemed like a sweet place. Expensive, though, even if one wasn’t inclined to gamble. Sometime in our future (post-kid) life, I’ll have to get Matt to take me back.

So we rushed back to the airport, only to sit for another 2 ½ hours. Yawn. Lizzy behaved beautifully, thank goodness. Matt gave up on avoiding the Super Bowl and watched along with almost everyone else waiting at our gate. So we had football, crowds of tired, impatient travelers and the beeple-twinkle noises of slot machines in the background. Gotta be the most bizarre setting in which either of us has ever watched a football game.

Interestingly, the plane finally arrived and began to board right after the last, futile Patriot drive – one second remained in the game. We enjoyed the spirit of camaraderie with the other would-be passengers, most of whom seemed to be rooting on the Giants (as were we, mildly). We had the advantage of a five-second leap ahead of the people down the hallway, for some reason. We’d let out a big whoop, then hear a corresponding, delayed roar from farther away. I figured we were spoiling it for them a bit. Oh, well. At least they knew when to pay attention.

Good thing Matt got to watch, because our DVR pooped out on the final two minutes of the game. AND the House episode afterward! I’m most displeased about that. I saw my last fresh House last night. No more until everyone pulls themselves together post-writers’ strike. My coworker brought me up to speed, but man, it sounded like an absolute classic.

So here we are, still struggling with jetlag (Lizzy most of all), trying to stay awake during the days and get to sleep at nights. All worth it, though. Well worth it!