So, anyway, about the trip...
Jul. 25th, 2004 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slipjig3It seems I haven't updated since before the road trip to see the wee ones. Let me see if I can summarize without dragging this into the pre-dawn witching hours...
The Drive: Six and a half hours on the New York State Thruway, which is actually hideously long, especially for the only driver in the car, which would be me. I felt like I was stuck in a Wim Wenders movie.
Nik: No longer a three-year-old, thank you very much. Hisscalping short haircut is still freaking me out a bit, as is the fact that he grew. Good gravy...
Abbey: Still her ever-charming self. Insisted on giving us the guided tour of the house, hugging me 3,926 times, and bouncing off the furniture in a two-hour glucose rush.
The Birthday Events: Minimal, since the grandparents and Aunt Marci were coming on the weekend, which is when the real festivities would begin. But there were presents to be opened (I don't know how Kristi survived until 7 p.m. telling him he had to wait), and a cake to eat. Party theme: Strawberry Shortcake, Nik's choice. Yes, I'm serious.
The Hotel: A Days Inn, nuthin' special. The room had the two most important amenities we could think of: (a) an alarm clock, and (b) cable TV, which guaranteed that we'd be up to ridiculous-thirty in the morning watching the I Love the 90's marathon like the pop culture whores that we are.
The Chautauqua Institute: Technically an educational facility-slash-gated community, but comes off like Twilight Zone-slash-Norman Rockwellian nightmare. Very narrow streets, 100-year-old buildings, 12 m.p.h. speed limit, lake view, pedestrians everywhere. Possibly the whitest place on this mortal coil; if the shuffleboard and "Bridge Lessons" flyers didn't tip you off, the sign reading, "This field reserved for lawn bowling ONLY" surely will. Pretty and quaint, but creepier than John Hinckley babysitting.
The Kids in Chautauqua: Fine, until Abbey decided that she was going to be Stubborn Abbey instead of Charming Abbey, planting herself in one spot overlooking Palestine Park and refusing to budge until the Lunch Issue had been fully resolved, which meant not only guessing what she wanted to do, but getting her to stand up and actually participate in said decision (seeing as how she was being Stubborn Abbey, she was more likely to sprout a second nose in her armpit than cooperate). We resorted to the old faithful technique of bribing her with ice cream.
Scenery (Landscape): Lovely views of Chautauqua Lake, as well as the turn-of-the-century architecture.
Scenery (Other): I'm officially going directly to Hell upon my passing. Have Amish girls always been that cute? (And have they always worn New Balance sneakers under their dresses?)
Kristi and Rob: Went very well. Chatted some, and we got to spell them on their childcare duties so they could have some together time.
The Return: I don't think either of us has ever been as punch-drunk as when we got on I-87 at midnight-thirty after 6 1/2 hours of driving and 7 hours of child-wrangling, only to come to a complete stop in the middle of a Saskatchewan-sized traffic jam caused by a jackknifed semi on the Twin Bridges. We dealt with the situation with great aplomb by rolling down the windows and screaming along with the dirties techno music we could find. It helped.
In other news, I'm still not caught up on my sleep, but at least I'm solvent again. Go, team!
The Drive: Six and a half hours on the New York State Thruway, which is actually hideously long, especially for the only driver in the car, which would be me. I felt like I was stuck in a Wim Wenders movie.
Nik: No longer a three-year-old, thank you very much. His
Abbey: Still her ever-charming self. Insisted on giving us the guided tour of the house, hugging me 3,926 times, and bouncing off the furniture in a two-hour glucose rush.
The Birthday Events: Minimal, since the grandparents and Aunt Marci were coming on the weekend, which is when the real festivities would begin. But there were presents to be opened (I don't know how Kristi survived until 7 p.m. telling him he had to wait), and a cake to eat. Party theme: Strawberry Shortcake, Nik's choice. Yes, I'm serious.
The Hotel: A Days Inn, nuthin' special. The room had the two most important amenities we could think of: (a) an alarm clock, and (b) cable TV, which guaranteed that we'd be up to ridiculous-thirty in the morning watching the I Love the 90's marathon like the pop culture whores that we are.
The Chautauqua Institute: Technically an educational facility-slash-gated community, but comes off like Twilight Zone-slash-Norman Rockwellian nightmare. Very narrow streets, 100-year-old buildings, 12 m.p.h. speed limit, lake view, pedestrians everywhere. Possibly the whitest place on this mortal coil; if the shuffleboard and "Bridge Lessons" flyers didn't tip you off, the sign reading, "This field reserved for lawn bowling ONLY" surely will. Pretty and quaint, but creepier than John Hinckley babysitting.
The Kids in Chautauqua: Fine, until Abbey decided that she was going to be Stubborn Abbey instead of Charming Abbey, planting herself in one spot overlooking Palestine Park and refusing to budge until the Lunch Issue had been fully resolved, which meant not only guessing what she wanted to do, but getting her to stand up and actually participate in said decision (seeing as how she was being Stubborn Abbey, she was more likely to sprout a second nose in her armpit than cooperate). We resorted to the old faithful technique of bribing her with ice cream.
Scenery (Landscape): Lovely views of Chautauqua Lake, as well as the turn-of-the-century architecture.
Scenery (Other): I'm officially going directly to Hell upon my passing. Have Amish girls always been that cute? (And have they always worn New Balance sneakers under their dresses?)
Kristi and Rob: Went very well. Chatted some, and we got to spell them on their childcare duties so they could have some together time.
The Return: I don't think either of us has ever been as punch-drunk as when we got on I-87 at midnight-thirty after 6 1/2 hours of driving and 7 hours of child-wrangling, only to come to a complete stop in the middle of a Saskatchewan-sized traffic jam caused by a jackknifed semi on the Twin Bridges. We dealt with the situation with great aplomb by rolling down the windows and screaming along with the dirties techno music we could find. It helped.
In other news, I'm still not caught up on my sleep, but at least I'm solvent again. Go, team!
