We have steadfastly resisted the buzzword of the recession: The loathsome staycation.
We work too hard and our cat annoys us too much to even consider the pitter-putter, dilly-dally, couch-potato siren call of lazing around home for a week, watching "Gilmore Girls" reruns until we can predict their oh-so-clever-banter, occasionally trekking to places we've already been a gazillion times and looking out the window and staring at that taunting bent nail keeping our storm drains in place, begging to be fixed.
So it was off yet again to the poor-man's time-share, our rent-free and oh-so-scenic home away from home, Mo's parents place on Higgins Lake in northern Michigan. The leaves had changed, the tourists had fled and the wooded trails nearby practically inviting Lulu to poop on them.
As usual, we had a grand time: Boating, eating much dip, sitting in the sands, introducing Hope to the wonder that is acorns and strolling through the tranquil woods, the gentle song of the swaying branches punctuated only by our calls of No, Lulu! No, No! Stop!
Chasing our bliss, we made like college freshmen and skipped Hope's first week of school. What the hay: It was registration week anyway. She begins in earnest next week, receiving her therapy schedule today. Unlike party-boy freshmen, Hope has scheduled school before 11 AM, with both sessions starting before 9:30 AM. That's bad for any dreams of marathon keg-stands, but good for dear ol' Dad: This year, I can make them.
Hope is doing great stuff. It's nifty to return around the same time each year to Higgins Lake because we can better visualize her progress.
Last year, she couldn't sit on her own. This year, she not only sits, but spins in circles and has devised her own, quite ladylike, method of getting around by sitting spread-eagle, throwing her arms to the floor and pulling her to heart's content. Over Memorial Day, we were delighted when she took four tentative cruising steps next to a chair. Now, she's skipping from the chair to the bookshelf to the coffee table to the end table and onto the wall, a la Sylvester Stalone in "Cliffhanger." Last year, she could barely fit in the Snugglie. Now, she loves it.
It's fun to look at photos from then and now to remind ourselves how she's become such a little girl while we weren't noticing. Of course, I could have made a video comparing and contrasting. That would make a lot of sense. Instead, I made one about hypnosis. Go figure.