I love vacations but I hate that “I need a vacation to recover from my vacation” feeling. Yeesh, I am tired, but I did get up at 5:45 this morning…and then again at 6:15…and then again at 6:30 before I could finally get in the shower and set off to return the ‘rents to the airport. Heh. Turns out that they were SUPPOSED to have left yesterday but my dad read the tickets wrong or something. Luckily they are seasoned travelers and didn’t freak, they just called their travel agent, paid a little extra and hopped on the same flight one day later. At least I got an extra day with them!
I know that most people love their parents. I love mine but I also like them. We have a really good time when we are together and this was no exception. We did a little exploring, visited some new places and just hung out. My mom has a black belt in shopping so we spent some time exploring little boutiques and the Rose Bowl flea market with her. And my dad loves pretty cars so we took a trip to the Petersen’s Automotive Museum, which I highly recommend to anyone visiting L.A. Pretty, shiny cars! The current exhibit is of some Big Daddy Roth stuff, which was really fun to see. In fact, I think I may have to go back.
There was some birthday revelry in the form of not one but two dinners at my two favorite restaurants and there were presents, oh how there were presents! What does it say about a person when they receive a bottle of wine, a bottle of whisky, a bottle of champagne, a pair of slippers and a vintage Doctor Who play set? I think it sends some mixed messages but you can explain that to me when you find me sitting on the floor, wearing my slippers, drunk on blueberry wine, playing with the Tardis…because you will find me like that…eventually. There were many other lovely gifts and a dozen oysters and a creme bruleé and good times were had by all.
Sigh. I will miss my parents but I will be happy to move off the futon and back to the bed. And I will get to see them again soon, so that’s nice. All in all it was an excellent week of visiting and birthdaying and for the record, I have no idea how old I am. Every time someone asks, and really, you aren’t supposed to ask that question, I have to do the math. Suffice to say, I am older but no wiser.