I’m currently getting ready to take a long-awaited family vacation.  In just a short week, I’ll be joining all of the family (on my wife’s side) as we get together on the shores of South Carolina.  All of my spouse’s siblings will be there (including her sister from Germany and cousins from far-off Norway) – about twenty-five people in total.  We’ll be packed into two side-by-side beach houses, just steps away from the Atlantic Ocean, parking the cars in favor of golf carts, bicycles, and foot power as the mode of transportation for the week.  I’m looking forward to long walks on the beach, the sound of the surf in my ears, a breeze on my face, and no agenda for seven days.

But that’s still a week away.

I’m a planner by nature, and right now I’m in full-bore attack mode, trying to anticipate what we’ll need at the beach house, finalizing packing lists, pulling things together, and setting up the van for the long drive to South Carolina next weekend.

Add to this that I’ve got two teen-aged daughters at home who are going all over the map (and have yet to obtain their driver’s licenses), a full time job, and am also looking after my mother’s dog for the week and it’s safe to say that I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire right now.  My calendar looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.  Take this example – my youngest daughter got back from camp this past Saturday night.  We then had to get all of her laundry done that night in preparation for her trip to Paris, France with my mother (the reason I’m watching the dog), which started the next day (and I took them to the airport in D.C. – a ninety minute drive).  During the week, I’ve got to get the yard mowed, make sure the bills are paid, get a restaurant review done for the local paper, and brief the Church Council President on our monthly meeting topics (I’m the Treasurer at church and will be a missing a meeting due to vacation).  On Friday, my mother and my youngest get back from Europe, but I can’t pick them up from the airport because I’ll be taking my oldest to a concert in Redding, PA (a two-hour drive).  Once we get back from that (late Friday night), the whole gang gets cleaned up, packed up, and we’re in the van early Saturday morning for the ten-hour drive to the beach.

Whew!

I feel like a harried logistics officers putting the final touches on the D-Day invasion.  My home office is a jumble of schedules, packing lists, kitchen equipment, empty coolers, and beach towels.  I’ve cleaned out the van.  There are toiletries on my nightstand and shots of “5-Hour Energy” drink ready to be consumed on Saturday morning for the assault on I-95 South.  It will all come together.

I admire people who just throw a few things in the car and take off, like free spirits heading for Woodstock or the Burning Man festival, but that’s just not me.

My wife took me aside and reminded me that next week is a vacation for me, too – and she expects me to treat it as such.  In other words, once at the beach – settle down, take a nap, have a beer, and above all – relax.

It’s a prescription I hope to follow.  I am looking forward to watching the sunrise over the water, eating some seafood, and maybe even playing a little golf.

But until then?  It’s gonna be one heck of a week.

 

 

 

I’ll be off next week to recharge the creative juices.  I hope all of you have a safe and happy vacation this summer, no matter where you spend it.