These past two weeks, I've been off-grid vacationing. While I realize that to most of you, this probably conjures images of camping in the Yukon, climbing a distant Tibetan peak, or perhaps a safari in the wilds of Africa. For me, "off-grid vacationing" loosely translates to "lounging around in my parents' house in suburban Ohio while eating my weight in delicious food, making me too damn lazy to crack open my laptop."
Look! Proof! The night we rolled in, my brother and sister-in-law hired a Spanish chef to prepare the following:
There was tapas. And bronzino (fish! not self-tanner as one [me] might initially think). There was a garlic-saffron aioli that I would like to carry in my purse for condiment emergencies.
Sure, I posted a few desultory updates on Facebook, but the bulk of my trip can be summed up in two words: Food Coma.
The girls, on the other hand, basked in the ten kasquillion candlepower glow of being the only grandchildren AND only nieces (no nephews either, for that matter). They are the sum total of the next generation, and MAN did they reap the rewards. From shopping for school clothes with Nana, to bookstore spending sprees with Papa...
To rides in Uncle Awesome's convertible...
To Aunt Fabulous teaching them to bathe the puppy while wearing a dress and heels...
This was a lifestyle to which Bear and Bug would LOVE the chance to become accustomed. They became un peu insufferable and slightly wired at all times. To wit:
They are currently undergoing Spoiling Detox back in the cold, harsh reality of life in Maine with their parents. A life in which their mother, instead of allowing them to eat Junior Mints before lunch, will say, "What ... are you kidding me? Hey, since you're in the kitchen, unload the dishwasher." and then chuckle maliciously when their expectant little faces fall.
