We're Bachelors Baby!

For some time I've listened to my Mother-in-law, Sister-in-law and my husband sit around and talk about how great it would be to visit New England. When my husband was young his family spent 13 summers on the Cape and seldom is the time when we're all together that someone doesn't bring up some aspect of those summer vacations with their cousins. In fact, when my husband and I were dating, we'd sometimes walk from my house, across the street, to the elementary school. We'd sit in the warm sand beneath the playground swings and he would tell me about those wonderful summers on Horse Neck Beach in Massachusetts. My husband would woo me with tales of swimming, fishing, running his little boat into hidden coves and blueberry picking.

After we were married he did take me on that trip to Massachusetts for a family reunion. Unfortunately, our trip coincided with one of the hottest, muggiest, most inhospitable summers in New England's history. Our accommodations consisted of a run down, moldy beach house where the only method of bathing consisted of an outdoor shower with three flimsy walls and a nasty shower curtain, all situated on a cement pad, which allowed every manner of bug, access to the water around your feet.

As fo our bedroom, it was situated in a screened porch so that when it rained, our beds could've passed for the steerage level of the Titanic. Accomodations aside, nothing compared to the horror of blueberry picking. The very same past-time which my husband spoke of with such longing was, for me, one of the most miserable 2 hours of my life. I remember standing in a grove, on what was the hottest, muggiest, most soul crushing day in New England's history. As I clutched my pail tightly between clenched fingers, I stifled screams as gigantic beetles dive bombed all around me. The sound of their approach was equal to WWII Kamikaze pilots. So as not to appear the major whimp I truly was, I kept my screams to myself and repeated the following mantra in my head: "Just pick your bucket of berries and get the HELL out!"... "Just pick your bucket of berries and get the HELL out!" And no, I haven't been blueberry picking or anywhere near the Cape since.

So back to my husband and In-laws. A month or so ago I planted the seed and told my husband that he and my daughter should take a trip together somewhere. I thought it would be a wonderful bonding opportunity. After a lot of thought on his part (before he makes ANY decision he has to spin it around in his brain for a while.... a Loooonnnnggg while.) and a bit of discussion on mine, we thought it would be a wonderful idea for his mom and sister to be a part of the trip. And since there's been years of romanticizing about New England, it seems the perfect destination for them all.

So this week, thanks to a LOT of nudging on my part, my husband, daughter, Mother-in-law and Sister-in-law are off on a New England Vacation. It took a LOT of prodding on my part because... DAMN, this group would've NEVER made it as far as the Delaware border without my persistent "Go Already!" So that, along with my mad skillz at internet searches and hotel booking gave them the incentive.

They're of course, wondering why I might seem so desparate to send them off on vacation without me? I'll tell you why, because for a glorious week my son and I get to 'Bach It' (as in bachelors.) There are no demands to meet and since it's just the two of us? No food planning other than, "Which fast-food franchise should we patronize today?" So, in the spirit of 'Bachelorhood' I leave you with these: