Up North

OK, so let's just overlook how much time has elapsed since my last post, shall we? The Chicas have been gone for the past 10 days, are home for 4, then leave again for another 10. It seems to me that the FM is playing a little fast and loose with the summer visitation rules, but the Chicas love being Up North, and it will only cost me a small fortune to deprogram them once they are safely back into my fold, so what do I know?

For those not in the know, "Up North" is a unilateral Michigander directional term much like "Down the Shore" is for us Jersey Natives. Except there's a whole lot more geography "Up North" than there is "Down the Shore," so Up North means pretty much any destination above M-59, including the UP. So that also means that in order to travel Up North, you can either be in the car for an hour, or for 8, and it still counts the same. It also encompasses virtually any type of property--whether it be a big-pimpin' house on a lake, a permanently-parked trailer in the woods, or a family farmhouse in BFE--doesn't matter and no one asks. As long as you have a place Up North, you are spoken about in hushed, envious terms by those of us trapped in the D on long-ass holiday weekends.

Not that my weekend was uneventful, my Lovelies. Nope I hung out with Monroe (the fella formerly known as "The Camping Guy," thusly nick-named for the town in which we met, purposefully overlooking the dodgy RV circumstances) and learned the painful lesson that I really cannot hang out with a dude for that long this early in the game. Not that it was completely my fault--there was literally nothing to do here in the D last weekend. The Tigers were away, there weren't any festivals or other people-watching opportunities, and absolutely everyone we knew was....say it with me...Up North. Yes, see you do pay attention after all! So there we were, two people still getting to know each other, trying to find something to do, and not having much luck. His neighbors had a lot of Blow-Your-Hand-Off Fireworks, but other than watching those over the fenceline, and waiting to see if EMS would need to be called, there wasn't nothin' goin' on.

And this week was no different. It was completely foreign to me for the Chicas to be gone and to not have to be anywhere or do anything. I guess I function in a constant, unconscious state of flurry, so the fact that I didn't have to race home to relieve the babysitter, or get anyone to practice or really do anything besides to go to work was kinda mind-blowing. So I did what any self-assured, independent single chick would do--I emotionally shut down for 72 hours, and then got off my ass and shook it off. I went for a 5 mile walk, went to dinner with a couple of girlfriends-past, and played an absolutely terrible round of golf on Thursday. But I got closest to the pin and some passably good pizza afterwards, so it all worked out well in the end.

So yeah, I did it. And now I'm going to enjoy my Chica-weekend and get my snuggles and kisses in before they head off again.We're going to have little friends visit to Slip-N-Slide, go to Art in the Park, and catch up on all their newly-forming vacation memories. I already have a game plan for this next break in the parenting action, and if Mr. Kid Rock comes through with my requested tickets (sorry to keep harping on this, but I really do not understand the delay) all will be entirely good in the 'hood once more. Oh, and just so you don't think I've gone completely Midwest, I'm also planning a kick-ass August Chica-vacation back East. Not that I'm deliberately trying to trump the FM and the mighty-mighty "Up North," but I'm pretty sure a visit to DC and Philly might come close. I might just throw in a side-trip Down the Shore for good measure.