greetings from a darkened, silent motel room in southern maryland.
If anyone has any ideas about how to make cheap travel with a toddler suck less, please tell me.
Aside from the mild but annoying deprivations associated with sharing a motel room with someone who goes to bed at 7, we're having a lovely trip.
I got to listen to most of Turkey Confidential on the trip down, which we really enjoyed. (I'm a little in love with Lynn Rosetto-Kaspar.) This had the added advantage of dazzling my husband with my cooking knowledge, as I shouted out the totally correct answers to the callers' questions - precisely the same answers as the assembled food experts, but a moment earlier. I totally rule at Home Ec.
(Wow, there's a sentence I never would have expected to write.)
After the ridiculous Officers' Club buffet (excellent desserts, by the way, as always), we stopped at the Cedar Point beach to let Ian run off some energy (to little avail, as it turned out, but it was fun and relaxing. There's a playground there; plus, in the 70 degree weather, we were able to slip off our shoes and walk down to the bay.
My brother - the man who can clean a kitchen like Rosie the Robot Maid on the Jetsons - can also skip stones like a world-champion stone-skipper. It was totally amazing.
I'm about to launch a campaign to get my husband to change the TV channel to anything other than THE FANTASTIC FOUR (to which I say AU CONTRAIRE.)