Dale and I have a long standing tradition of going away for the Martin Luther King Jr. weekend. It started back in 1997 when we went to the Cape together to celebrate our engagement and I think we’ve managed to get away just about every year since. The last few years we have gone to Florida to visit the kids but that didn’t work out this year, for various reasons. We had planned, instead, on going up to Freeport, ME, but then my dear friend from college contacted me and told me about a tweet-up in Ogunquit at the Beachmere Inn. I told her, I don’t tweet much, but she said that was irrelevant and we were welcome to join in on the group rate. So we made the plan and on Friday we headed north.
It started out as a wonderful day. We had a delicious lunch at a taco spot in Kittery, drove a bit up the coast to check out the sea ducks, and then arrived at the inn. Our room, a suite with king-sized bed, a beautiful living room and spectacular ocean views, was lovely. We settled in and then headed out to pick up some supplies – cheese & crackers, beer, snacks, and the like.
By the time we got back from our jaunt to the grocery store I was just not feeling like myself. I tried to ignore it and made myself a martini. I took two sips and didn’t touch it again. (I’ll let that settle in for those of you who know me well.) Within minutes I was in the bathroom puking my guts out. And unmentionable things were happening on the other end, too. I continued to “throw and go” every 30 minutes from 7pm until 2am. Good times, my friends.
Saturday morning I dragged myself out of bed and managed to shower and get dressed to have breakfast with my friend, Chrissie, and her boyfriend Tony. I fought back nausea and exhaustion but I don’t think anyone was the wiser and we did have a lovely visit. I spent the afternoon back in bed, napping and resting, while Dale watched an old black and white movie out in the living room. I actually felt pretty good when I woke up but it didn’t last long and I just couldn’t muster the strength to think about dinner or food. Dale went out and bought me a box of saltines and a pastrami sandwich for himself. We watched a movie together (well, he watched and I half watched/half slept) and I went back to bed at 10pm.
Sunday morning I felt much better and had a more pleasant breakfast and visit. Dale wanted to visit Kittery Trading Post on the way home and I was fine with that so long as I could just sit and knit while he shopped. I did and he did and we made it home in time for the Patriot’s game. I made some homemade chicken and rice soup and that also helped with the healing of my body but the football game did nothing to make me feel better, I can tell you that.
Monday I felt mostly better and we spent the day bringing Hannah back to college. She is happily ensconced there and we are adjusting to our home without her. I still miss her but it’s much easier this time, and having the house to ourselves again is a nice change.
The romantic weekend away we had planned was certainly a bust! My husband is a great sport, though, and he never complained once. Not when we couldn’t go out to dinner. Not when we couldn’t do any sightseeing or walking around the town. Not when I spent most of the weekend either in the bathroom or asleep. Not even when he caught the virus from me and got sick himself – with a much milder case, thank goodness.
I owe him a do-over on this weekend, that’s for sure.