Vacation Tales of the Witch, and Shameless

Well, this was a really strange vacation.  I can’t say for sure if it’s because I was abducted by aliens mid-week or not but if I were to hazard a guess,  that certainly COULD be a contributing factor.  But let me not get ahead of myself here.

I had high hopes about spending more than a full week up at our secluded mountain cabin in the heart of the gloriously autumnal Catskills.  The night before heading off into the wilds, me and the hubby celebrated our looming VACATION WEEK by treating ourselves to a fabulous dinner at our favorite restaurant here in Queens.  And ya know what – I could be wrong but that marvelous evening might have sent me spinning into COFFEE RE-TOX HELL. 

Yeah.  After all my hard work kicking the coffee habit several weeks prior,  I just couldn’t resist plunging into a huge double espresso to cap off that fine Italian  meal. And let me tell you something, that espresso was fantastic.  I practically mainlined that shit.  Felt like a real world-beater doin’ it, too.  Wa-HOOOOO!   I’M OFFICIALLY ON VACATION!  DOUBLE ESPRESSO’S FOR EVERYONE!  PRONTO, PRONTO!  MOLTO BENE …Più eccellente…or whatever the hell means outrageously swell in Italiano.

Anyhow, over the course of the next several days, these caffeine-fueled feelings of excessive grandeur hastily and offensively morphed into fever, chills, stomach grips, delirium and nausea to name just a few of the unpleasant symptoms I began to experience whilst camping.  I spent much of my time disoriented, sipping tea, fitfully napping and waking up in order to stoke the fireplace, all to the steady, relentless sound of Chris sawing wood outside.  Because another thing – it WAS FREEZING the entire week.  We even had one day of snowfall.  (It only truly warmed up – beautifully and suddenly - on the morning of our departure, at vacation’s end.)

To further enhance the ultimate vacation experience, it seemed that every time I managed to pass out in another feverish nap,  Herman (who was, naturally, shot out of a cannon the entire week) would commence barking, trumpeting  and bellowing endlessly at every little twig snapped by a passing turkey or chipmunk.  I began referring to our beloved little cabin retreat as “The Abu Ghraib-Inn.”

BUT – I did manage to read EASTER PARADE, a brilliant, exquisitely depressing novel written by one Richard Yates. (This dude’s got depression and angst down to a fine science.  He also wrote REVOLUTIONARY ROAD, also highly recommended.)  And after I polished THAT book off, I launched deliciously into my Enquirer and STAR mags, purchased en route to cabin specifically for vacationing purposes, mind you – this is not a “regular thing” for me, you have my word.  And call me crazy, but between Travolta and Cruise… I dunno … is it the Scientology connection or is it purely coincidental that these are both unyieldingly imbalanced individuals? 

I listened to Ryan Adam’s “Cold Roses” CD and wept along with him for Jerry Garcia.  I also took some scenery pix, many from the vantage point of our little front porch, shivering with fever and, well, also because it was often BELOW FREEZING out there.  Some gorgeous sunrises and sunsets and best of all, all week long the nearly full-moon emerging intermittently from behind thick black clouds to blaze exuberantly against the deepest of blue night skies. 

But still, I battled this virus-y, re-toxy malaise.  Each day I glanced over guiltily at my bongos, guitars and – worst of all – my lovely old piano.  They huddled together, abandoned and ignored, and glared at me from across the room.  My sick despondency contagious to my poor, beloved instrumental friends.  They seemed to beckon: “Play us – we can heal you!”  But alas, I simply couldn’t summon the strength or will. 

Into the 4^th day or so of this nonsense, I had a couple of vanilla-infused shots of vodka (for the nausea, of course) and chased it with perhaps half a bottle of red wine.  I put on Bob Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind CD and before I knew it, it was Time Out of Mind for Lynn. My head hit the pillow and I fell into the sleep of the dead.

And it was shortly thereafter, my friends, where my vacation week got just a tad more inneresting…

To be continued….