Bedtime Story
As noted, my mom flew in yesterday from Detroit (she lives near Toledo). We’re spending a few days here in Seattle, then flying down to Ashland, Oregon (see category link on the left for details from last year’s trip) on Saturday for a week of play-watching, hiking and just not-working. I booked her on a 9:30 am flight, so the poor thing had to get up at 4am in order to shuttle up to Detroit in time. Consolation prize: I used miles and my influence with Northwest Airlines to upgrade her to first class both directions. By the time I picked her up, she seemed pretty taken with that mode of travel.
In order to be sure to make the bell at 4, she set 2 alarm clocks and asked a neighbor to call her. I was up at 1 Pacific anyway, so I called, as did my brother in Charleston a couple hours later. As she said, if I’m not awake after all that, I’ve embarked on a different journey entirely and won’t need such earthly prodding.
So, instead of Camp Phil(2)bin, we’ve got the Phil(2)bin Arms Hotel. Joining indigenous residents (me, Mrs. Perils, MIL Perils, and Perils, Jr.) were my mom and Mrs. Perils’ sister, who drove over from Idaho in order to catch a plane from SeaTac this morning. Our neighbor across the street graciously allowed my mom to sleep in her basement apartment, which is temporarily vacant. This left my sister-in-law to accommodate, on the sofa that I often inhabit when I wake irrevocably in the middle of the night and don’t care to risk Mrs. Perils’ wrath by turning on my reading light.
Things have thinned out here a bit - SIL is off to ATL, son is departing tomorrow morning for Ashland with one of his high school buds and his family (we’ll hook up over the weekend), and the sofa is mine to reclaim if and when marital peace mandates. Life is good.
