So we went to Florida for a week. The weather was really, truly, unbelievably nice.... no rain, no cold days, really very little clouds in the sky most of the time. We spent much time hanging out with Grandma & Grandpa, and eating at some fabulous restaurants (Pippins TWICE, mmmm, and Sir George & the Dragon). We walked the beach once, swam three days out of 7 (Mr. William is not a pool fanatic as am I). We even ventured to the insanity that is DisneyWorld for 2-1/2 days. I even got to do some serious reading; by the time we got home, I had read 2-1/2 Dean Koontz novels plus my daily devotional. We visited King Richard's (putt-putt/go-cart place), where I proceeded to stomp my husband in putt-putt; he was setting a horrible example for the children behind us. Heh. All in all, it was a nice time.
I was hoping to get to know my husband a little better, or vice versa, since it's been a while since we've spent much time together.... I wouldn't really say that's what happened, sadly. I can't explain it, but I don't feel reconnected just yet. I wish I could go into details, but I'm just going to leave it at that.
We were sad to return to the nastiness here, and when we got back to Detroit (an hour late) we had a surprise waiting: the battery on the Suburban was dead (some person--who shall remain nameless and is not me--left the dome light on). It took close to another 30-45 minutes to get the thing jumped. Luckily we were in the parking structure and not outside, because it was pretty chilly out and neither of us had our winter jackets. Maybe if our return hadn't been so strained, I'd still be feeling a bit more rested.
....and then there were 5.
11 years ago
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