Howdy,
Series note: the days have kind of come and passed—so quickly—but I’ve mentioned briefly in multiple posts about our six days in Santa Cruz and having active snippets to share, so I’m going to follow through on this—even if it’s become so long now that I’m not sure that I’m even that interested in it. (Not the way to intro your piece, for the writing students out there.) It’s been busy, and some minor illness in the family kind of throws things out of whack; we’re blessed it’s a summer schedule right now and we can kind of roll with the inefficient fog as the days rise and recede …
So I’ve lined it out, from what I’ve started (Thursday): Friday; Saturday; Sunday; Monday; Tuesday. Now I’ve just got to write them all.
Now it’s been three weeks ago, but, HEY, we’re done—today’s the last day of the Santa Cruz snippets. It was a good trip—probably a better vacation than it was a series of blog posts: at least now you know about those açaí bowls.
Finally, Tuesday: Tuesday, was, honestly, not that exciting. Yet it was amazing.
Somehow, we spent something like eight hours cleaning the cabin before we left.
You almost have to read that again—I feel like I have to write it again: eight hours!
How could that even be?
That’s what makes it interesting … It’s those darn kids! Being a parent slows you down. It’s good; it’s great—it’s the best, but it slows you down. The ‘childrens’ have a way of impeding progress when you need to get something done. (Like right now, as I type, I perform this duty kid-free, as Sarah has taken them for the afternoon on adventure to visit Grandad and G.G. at camp, supportively granting me some writing and working time.)
Especially when you’re attempting to clean a cabin and leave windows free of fingerprints and mopped floors lacking flip flop and feet markings.
Nonetheless, eight hours? I’d be doubting myself and my recollection (it being three weeks ago now), but I know the times. That Tuesday was to be about a relaxed and peaceful vacay morning and then spiffying up and wiping down the cabin before leaving for the drive home. Simple.
Sad, but simple.
We started sweeping and scrubbing and the rest of it about noon and didn’t corral the boys in the car until after nine o’clock that night. The reason I don’t call it nine hours is that Sarah and I alternated with guiding or entertaining the kids some and we had some brief breaks for keeping nourished and hydrated in the face of a full day of wrangling the ones with sticky fingers and wiping up behind them, ahead of them, and behind them again, you know, because it takes any one of our three boys about 3.7 seconds to find a clean surface and dutifully soil it—I’ll leave the imagining of with what to you. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably not wrong.
Besides, who needs nine hours? Eight is a full work day. Need a vacation from my vacation.
The boys actually did quite well; it turned out, it wasn’t a bad day for them. The helped with cabin chores and cleaning for awhile, and then I snuck them away to the wonderful camp swimming pool for a time, and then later to the on campus playground. All the while, Sarah kept at it like a champ. (THANKS, BABE!)
Sarah and I both doubt that we are the fastest two humans alive when it comes to getting things accomplished and wrapped, but, as a family of five, we know we’re not.
Besides, who really wants to leave a cabin in the Santa Cruz area, anyway? Not us.
Well, not until 9:17 p.m. after a full day’s work scrubbing and redoubling behind the boys. Then it’s time to strap in and drive home.
Home sweet home.
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Word Count: 132,244 / On Pace: 139,700 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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