Dear internet, We are on vacation.
I would have written about how we were driving out of Denver yesterday, and how it turns out we beat a few feet of snow out of town.
I would have talked about how long a drive it was going to be, especially when I still have a head cold and need Kleenexes and cough drops roughly ever two seconds.
I would have talked about how we had a time schedule and had to be at our destination in order to watch a certain someone play her last eighth grade basketball game of the season.
I would have told you all of this, internet. Really I would have. I consider you a friend, and I don’t hold out on my friends. You see, it was just that a certain someone and her other siblings didn’t know that we were coming.
Yesterday that is. They thought we were coming today. As in, not in time to see some basketball games. But we came without them knowing. Yesterday, that is.
We got up early, me with my head cold, Rhiannon with her “I’m on vacation” attitude and everything. Out the door in the dark, driving all day (as it turns out, just a half day ahead of the storm), and pulling in within about five minutes of our expected arrival time.
Rhiannon rang the front door bell. People in the know knew that we were coming, like her mom. And her dad. And her grandma and aunt and uncle. Maybe some other people. Her sisters were not in the know. It turns out that the Munchkins were really the only ones who didn’t know.
Apparently Tricia (all 17 years of old of her) had no interest in answering the door. She was all, “I am probably far to busy talking to people on the interweb to actually answer the door,” in a way that only a high schooler can truly pull off. And when her mom insisted that she should answer the door, she stomped across the floor to show her displeasure, because, really, the interweb or some unknown person at the door – who would you choose?
And then she saw Rhiannon standing at the door. I’m not quite sure what she tried to say after that. It was mostly some sort of high pitched screaming and jumping around and hugging, again, as only a high school girl can do. I’m not sure, but I think dogs in a 20 mile radius were affected on frequencies that I am no longer able to hear. High pitched. Up there. Painful, even.
So we put our stuff in the house. And went to see Sarah. It turns out that eighth graders haven’t developed the muscles needed to obtain the extremely high frequencies of their older sisters. She tried, but it just came out as wheezing. And some tears. And more hugs.
And Mike, who also didn’t know we were coming, waved when we saw him at his game. He was in front of his teammates. Waving was probably a good thing. Later, he said hi. And then Rhiannon made him study for a math test.
I don’t know if he was really so happy to see us a day early.
But vacation is good. Internet, I’m going to be honest with you. I might not write as often as normal. I might write even more. It is vacation, after all. I don’t have a schedule.