Post Vacation Blues

Earlier this month I sat in the lobby of the Parker House Hotel in Boston, waiting for a colleague to meet me for lunch. It was one of several days of uncomfortably cool temperatures and soaking, wind-driven rains.

So I felt sorry for the many out-of-towners I saw shivering in tank tops, shorts and walking sandals, the type of attire that distinguishes tourists headed for the Freedom Trail. When my colleague showed up, we laughed about our initial al fresco dining plans -- lobster rolls at the Ragged Claw, a place with picnic tables overlooking Boston Harbor.

We also discussed upcoming plans each of us had made for beach vacations, hers at the Rhode Island coast the final week of July, and mine in Cape May for seven days starting on July 14. I told her I’d been too superstitious to start any vacation on the 13th day of the month, fearing it might doom Dennis and me to a week of solid rain.

By the time this entry is posted, Dennis and I will be back at work. Not that I’m not necessarily looking forward to the 370 mile drive back to Boston that will start at 5:30 a.m. – and all because I need to get home in time to get ready for work the next day. Our indecently early start will also shield me from the pain of encountering people at the hotel entrance whose vacations are just beginning.

The powers that be have been kind to me. Today is day seven of sunshine and warm temperatures at Cape May. I’ve gotten more sun on my face and body than would be recommended under American Cancer Society guidelines. Aside from peeling ear lobes, I feel great.

My calves are tight. That may be related to my walking on soft sand to and from the hotel beach shack -- where the most taxing thing I’ve done is wait in line to put in my order for beach chairs, towels, and umbrella. Along the way I’ve finished reading Monica Holloway’s page-turner of a memoir, Driving with Dead People, one of two books my daughter, Daphne and her husband, Etan – also in Cape May for five out of the seven days -- gave me for my birthday.

My friend, Linda, was very thoughtful about sending me information about options for exploring the arts as well as an Audubon nature preserve in Cape May. But at the risk of sounding horribly self-indulgent, I make no apology for straying from the beach only for meals, and for some lovely family get-togethers at the home of Etan’s Aunt Vicky and Uncle Joel.

There was a time in my life when winding down a vacation included not a wrap-up blog post, but shopping for school clothes. Yet the temperatures are way too warm to be shopping for cabled, crew neck sweaters and authentic tartan kilts from Scotland – even if I still wore that sort of stuff. Besides, the two-month vacations I once enjoyed have gone the way of Bass Weejun tassel loafers.

Now seems an odd time to be nailing down Thanksgiving plans. But with a daughter and son-in-law based in Orlando, it’s hard to say goodbye without knowing that another get-together is in the works. As the consumer tech columnist for The Orlando Sentinel, Etan will be working on Black Friday, the day when some shoppers camp outside all night, just to be at the head of the line when stores open, and others enjoy pushing and shoving each other for the last flat screen TV at whatever low, low price has been advertised.

Dennis and I said we will come to Orlando for Thanksgiving, and Don and Janice, Etan’s parents, said they too would try to come. I doubt we will do anything more strenuous than visit, eat, sunbathe, swim and explore the Premium Outlet Mall. Planning for Orlando will help me get over this vacation being over.