…precurs-ing

As I look back, I should have been clued in by our honeymoon—a prime example of his detailed torture. The sweet guy kept it a secret. In retrospect, that part was good. Had I known, I may have cancelled the wedding. An older, wiser, person would have realized that it was portend of our future together.


Dear Journal:
During this fun-filled week, I swear we have traversed four states and hiked across a national park that spans two nations. I packed for sunshine, beaches and warmth, yet just moments ago I was standing in knee-deep snow, short-sleeved and shivering having a memorial photo taken for posterity.
Our hotel is five-star; tour buses stop here to view it. It’s the focal point on the front of the national park map. The reservations had to be made months in advance, and the view is breathtaking … as seen from the reservation desk, because our room has no windows. Twin beds shoved together and a bathroom boasting of the original plumbing with a vintage claw foot bathtub, tepid water and chain pull toilet aren’t my idea of a honeymoon hotel …

As I may have mentioned before, the husband doesn’t believe in relaxing vacations. He believes in maximizing whatever opportunity we’ve afforded ourselves. I’ve hiked the wilderness areas (every year as my birthday surprise). I’ve RV’d across Alaska[1]  and we annually ski the “Greatest Snow on Earth.”[2] Our vacations are designed to make me look forward to going home again. And it works.

… We can’t afford to eat; the restaurant is also five-star, and they don’t need extra dishwashers. We jaunt into “town” morning, noon and night for meals. It’s a walking trail only—the entire community is, so we share the road with flora and fauna in the merry weather. When we hike back to the hotel, we’re starved and yet must trek out again.
None of this makes much difference to me because I’ve scheduled my first migraine ever to hit this week. On the upside, my soul-mate doesn’t have to go animal watching to view the habitat of a bear. The new Mrs. Terina Dee.

This whole vacation situation is a result of two things: my inability to say no to him and our mutual aversion to divorce. It may also be my attitude. If I acted like I was having fun, the sadistic thrill would end and he would probably quit taking me.

Reality bite: I should be grateful. When he vacations with the “boys,” most of them schedule the next week off as sick leave.

[1] For future reference: When Alaska boasts of “shorts and tanks weather in June,” they mean for Alaskans. The rest of us, from the lower forty-eight, still wear layers, layers, and more layers. Bring rain gear, Alaska is 90% ice and the rest of it is falling water. T.

[2] Utah Ski Association ad campaign. *&^$%#!