Alright, let's wrap this bitch of a vacation up!!


This Past Saturday:

We check back in to the same hotel we stayed at the week before. It's feeling eerily a bit too much like 'home'. We know the check-in desk people by name. It's freaky.

We had dinner that night with the in-law's at their house. Again, cats are locked up. HDHusband and I discuss that if they SOCIALIZED their cats, they might not be so pyscho around new people, or even people in general. But what do we know, right? We are merely HUMANS.

Sunday:

HDHusband and I drop HDToddler off with the Grandparents for an overnight and drive about an hour to a winery. Another college friend of his is getting married - hence our reason for flying back to Portland and not straight back to Denver. Which would have been reaaaaaaally nice at this point.

The wedding was BEAUTIFUL. The backdrop was a ridge that overlooked this valley. GORGEOUS, I tell you.














Not a dry eye there when the couple got married. Just one of those weddings where you could really truly feel how much they loved each other.

During the reception (all outdoors), the BEES started in. The food came out and those bastards were EVERYFUCKINGWHERE. They were in your face, around your hands, in your space. I was thanking my lucky stars my son wasn't there, because surely he would be stung ...

So, guess what happened?? (GEE, I WONDER!)

One of those little free-flying-fuckers nailed me between my TOES. I TOOK A HIT FOR THE TEAM, KIDS!

We were sitting at a table, enjoying our nice little glass of vino and BAM! It went under the table and nailed me. Little fucker. Apparently, the maid-of-honor was stung under her dress DURING the wedding, too. She didn't make a noise. I did. A lot of it, too.

EDIT: Also,I had on a shirt that showed my back. My husband was sitting there, hand on my back, and discovered one of the subdermal stitches had started to come out. When I asked him what it looked like, he said, "Oh, like a tampon string hanging out". Nice. So, during dinner, he took a butter knife and hacked it out. I'm wondering if there will be a nice photo of the bride and groom with my husband sticking a knife in my back. That would be funny.
We spent the night back in the little town nearby at a great hotel. We had drinks with friends (and at one point, the bride and groom) on the Rooftop Bar and froze our asses off, but had a great time. I love my husband's friends (from college) and their families. We had a great time laughing, talking, catching up. I would move to Oregon in a HEARTBEAT. (coughhinthdhusbandcough)

Monday (last day of our trip swear to God so happy I cried):

Woke up (a smidge) hungover. Had big breakfast. Drove back to Portland. Picked up the Bug. Found out one of the pyscho cats mentioned beforehand had tried clawing off my son's arm. My son will now point to the three big slashes in his arm and tell you "Sissy" was a "bad cat" and gave him a "hurt". He milks this big time. I would, too.

Note: I just found out my in-law's paid 800 DOLLARS for that cat. I'm waiting now for my husband to read this, and I will be listening for sounds of a stroke.

Let's continue.

Went to airport. Stood in line. Stood in line some more. Threatened to never travel ever again. Stood some more in line. Flew home. Kid fell asleep (finally, after four flights total) on the plane as the LANDING GEAR was coming down. Nice timing. Waited for luggage. Piled on said luggage. Ran into Ben Stein from Comedy Central/Ferris fame. Packed up the plethora of shit into the car. Went home. Made love to my bed, because I was damn happy to finally BE home. HUMPED. IT. Boing-Boing's and all.

I leave you with a photo of myself and the Bug from the beginning of our trip. Before my ass was busted up and my leg twisted and my toe stung up by a damned bee.












It's good to be home!!