A Postcard from Mrs. S.
July 16, 2007
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Well, the show certainly wasn't bad, it was the listening to it that was a bit rough. Since we're on vacation my routine is out of whack and I nearly forgot the show was on. I was sitting by the pool sipping a blue drink with one of those little umbrellas in it when Mr. Sundberg commented on how relaxed he felt. "I mean, could you ask for more?" he said and it was as if a gun had gone off. THE SHOW! Made it to the hotel room just in time to crank up the radio and hear Mr. Keillor sing those very words. So there I sat on the bed and painted my toenails and ate popcorn and we discussed dinner during intermission and decided room service was the way to go. I suggested we order whatever we want as opposed to a real meal, and he said sure, and was that ever fun.
Half an hour later there was a knock and a nice young man wheeled in a cart. Oh, gosh. Mr. Sundberg had ordered a steak with all the trimmings and a chocolate malt. I went for a small deep dish cheese pizza with mushrooms, a lobster tail with lemon butter, and a slice -- no, a slab -- of vanilla cheesecake with lingonberry topping. We had some champagne, too, and by the time the show was over we were both fit to be rolled on out to pasture. We were stuffed, and he kept making me laugh, which made me yawn, and suddenly I was plain worn out and just wanted to go to bed, which I did, and he did. We held hands awhile, and talked about how much we miss the kids, which we sure do, and how sweet they are when they're stubborn about things like not wanting to do housework and how their curfew ought to be later. I told Mr. Sundberg how I thought about them at the Museum of Old Things on Saturday and how much they'd enjoy the railroad display and the dinorsaur display. He said we'll take them on vacation next time around and I think that would be just great. It would.
It's kind of rough to be away from them, really, but I've kept to myself just how much I wanted to bring them along this time, mainly because it's summertime and they're growing older, and soon they'll move on out and take their bed frames with 'em and they didn't particularly WANT to come along. I suppose that's how it goes. Which is fine with me, but for now, I like how it feels to miss them, even though I'm not home, but will be soon, with enough hugs and souvenir T-shirts and fine chocolates to go 'round.