This was me, three weeks ago in Ft. Lauderdale. Waiting for my flight.
Mom, Dad, pre-teen. They sat shoulder to shoulder. Facing forward. The straw hats and sunburns said that they had been on a cruise. They were silent. Each of them clutched a cell phone. They were frantically checking e-mail, Twitter and Facebook. Playing games. No eye contact was possible. No dialogue was attempted.
Maybe they were tired. Or tired of each other.
For the entire hour, not one word was exchanged. The flight was called, and they trundled onto the plane.
This was the denouement of an adventure that they had planned and anticipated for a year's time. They had crashed to earth, hard.
I was haunted by the antipathy, because the Dahl Clan is heading West. Mike Dahl, producer extraordinaire has seized the Dahl timeshare reins and herded the pack in the direction of Scottsdale, Arizona.
This will be a new adventure, because the babies will schedule us, locate us and amuse us. I pray that we have more to talk about, and more joy to share than my Florida flyers.
I am going to try to detach a little from the virtual world, and dig into the real world. I am ready. Commemorative shirts have been printed with a McGarry-Bowen design assist. There will be photo ops. And the boys will moan and urge me to stop and I will not.
Steve's shirt will be too small (they all are a little skimpy, Mike wanted Beefy T's and I wanted Anvil. He won, now we should all lose weight) andSteve will be grumpier than he already is when I declare a photo op. But then he will look at those little grandkids, and he will melt.
He has been podcasting each and every day for 4 years. He is taking a vacation, something he does not do lightly. This is a big and bold move for him- to disconnect. He has prepared archived shows, "best ofs" so to speak, and Brendan and Matt have prerecorded a show- but he is making a leap of faith that his listeners will be waiting for him. He is leaving his computer in Florida, and that is truly a miracle. It is time for family. I am loving the possibiities.
In seven days, I know we will be overstuffed with memories, and I expect we will be tired and sad that the real world awaits.
We have made a very few plans, since we are new at the family with babies model of vacations. We will hit up Pizzeria Bianco upon the recommendation of our friends at Stop 50 Wood fired pizza. Rachel Ray agrees it is tops. We will celebrate St. Pat's in the desert. I expect to head to Don and Charlie's for ribs and a hit of hometown warmth, along with green beer. Rachel started her education career with Teach for America in Phoenix; she will guide us to her favorite Mexican spots. The grass seats at the White Sox Spring training are beckoning, and Henry will be safe from peanuts there. Mostly, there is a pool, the Kindle is charged and loaded, Bagpipers apparently announce happy hour. Yay! Happy hour! Happy Day! Happy Week! Best of all-Steve is ours, all ours. It will be sunny, warm, and perfect.
I may have time to update you on the magic and mayhem; I have volunteered to stay crib-side during naps so that the Mommies and Daddies can have some quality rejuvenation. Grandpa Steve and I might be so tired after a day with kids that we go to bed when they do. If I fall silent at Janet Dahl et al., know that it is because Grandma Janter is on her 500th reading of Go Dog GO. Or on oxygen. I am only taking an I pad, and I have never posted a blog on that implement. I will try to send some sunshine. Be looking for it. If you have family in Phoenix/Scottsdale- warn them to be on the lookout for a band of tourists with babies in Desert Dahl onesies, and adults wearing the Dahl family logo, wishing Granny J hadn't preshrunk the shirts. I guarantee we will be talking to each other, even if I have to confiscate phones.
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