Notes from Vacation

Bump's family decided that we should all go to Florida for Spring Break. Something about Bump's mom not spending winters there for much longer, everyone's Spring Break falling on the same week, blah blah blah something something something that I just ignored because I was at work all the damn time.

Somewhere in the back of my head "Spring Break" and "Florida" filtered through and I shrugged and thought that sounded pretty good - completely forgetting that I have children now and tequila shots and beer bongs would be replaced by character breakfasts and a diaper bag.

Then a couple of weeks ago I realized that while I wasn't paying attention my family had planned to DRIVE to ORLANDO and go to WALT DISNEY WORLD during the same week the entire eastern seaboard was going to be there. Then I went back to work - because it was nearly 2pm on a Sunday and I had to get my ass back into the office, what was I, some sort of slacker? - muttering something about how these people were fucking crazy.

Then I forgot my PIN number.

Anyhoo, that pretty much catches you up on absolutely nothing. But I'm sitting here in my "office" - a hotel bathroom anteroom - while everyone else naps. Laugh if you will, but the door closes and I have:
1) a beer,
2) not one but two Sarah and the Goon Squad bottle openers,
3) a sad little crochet project that passes as relaxation these days,
4) a laptop that will get internet radio when the hotel wifi signal cooperates, and
5) a question for you.

How do you avoid getting sunburn on your part? Hair part. No, no, no, not your hairy parts. Your head - the spot on your head where you part your hair.

I'm relatively new to this whole sunscreen business. Remember, I come from the Land of Pasty Dutchmen, where our UV alert took the form of our lobster-red peers. By the time Cousin Bryan - the "dark" one - looked a little pink, Cousin Dawn was magenta and Cousin Alissa nearly had blisters, so we came in out of the sun while my brother and I were a dark taupe. "You kids are brown as Indians," my mother would cluck at my brother and me, which was funny because my brother is Indian, and my mother was not being ironic. Anyway, while I'm trying to be religious about sunscreen now, I don't know what to do about the tender pink line on my scalp that resulted from a few hours on an airboat. Wait, is this why you white people always wear hats?