We put the children on the ferry to the mainland this afternoon. So nice to have the family all together on the Vineyard for the holidays. David is headed back to Brooklyn and life in the fast-lane in NYC. Annaclaire can't quite shake the sand out of her shoes and has been invited to spend a few days with a best friend from high school and her family in Flah (how nice the sun will be). More planes, trains and automobiles for that girl.
As David and Annaclaire walked onto the boat, they looked back at us (Ma and Pa Brodnick) and jested with under age-23 authority, "Parrrrrrty time for us!"
Little did they know that we (Ma and Pa Brodnick) said the same exact thing when we thought they weren't looking. You know that Disneyland commercial with the kids bemoaning, "I hope mom and dad aren't too bored in Disneyland. They're probably missing us so-o-o-o much."
Next frame shows the parents on a wild ride at Snow Mountain, arms flailing and hysterically laughing.
That's me and Andrew.
With the children out of the house, it's all sheets to the wind with planned meals of protein/vegetable/starch. Sunset beach walks await us without the lingering worry of "What are we having for dinner?" Turn down the heat to 60 (I like it cold). Turn back the clocks. Turn forward the clocks. Who cares? Turn up the Boz Scaggs. It's a wonderful night for a moon dance, isn't it?
For a brief moment, no one is asking for money, guidance or approval. It's all about us again. Our biggest worry is whether we have cheese, crackers and olives in the house.
"Parrrrrrty time for us!"
(Sorry, kids.)
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