Meg's Fantasy Vacation

My fantasy vacation involves a West Coast beach and John Cusack. But short of that, I’m living my fantasy vacation at this very moment. No, you didn’t land at the wrong blog (although you could be intoxicated, I wouldn’t know). Meg is actually having the time of her life.

I know, I know…hard to believe. Meg is happy (it’s in vogue now to refer to yourself in the third person).

Most folks wouldn’t think a family reunion with 36 other people (21 of them kids) at a sandy destination with no dry towels in sight as a fantasy vacation.

But here’s the deal. No one’s locked themselves in the bathroom, or the keys in the car. There’ve been no meltdowns over ice cream, or animal products touching vegetable products on their dinner plate. Or at least none that I know about.

That’s because, by some oversight, fluke, alignment of the stars, heck intoxication could be involved, I wouldn’t know, but the organizers of this trip assigned our kids, in fact all the kids, to the two other rented houses.

Yes, I am vacationing in a house WITHOUT KIDS. Insert endless exclamation marks here.

We are in Rehoboth Beach Delaware. It’s a Mayberry-like version of East Coast beaches. There’s the old-fashioned boardwalk complete with arcades, Thrashers French Fries, and The Candy Kitchen. The Candy kitchen sells the requisite fudge and salt water taffy and it also sells rainbow lace licorice.

Yes, Rehoboth's a Mayberry-like attraction and a Provincetown-like attraction. Not only is there nothing wrong with that, sharing the resort with alternative life stylers means there is plenty of fine dining and home accessory shops.

But being kidless with great restaurants and shopping doesn’t make it a dream vacation.

This does:



Rehoboth is the home of Dogfish Head Brewery.

THE FREAKIN' HOME!!!

As many of you may know, I like my hops. And if you don’t know, I’ll tell you: I like my hops.

But not just any hops. My favorite beer in the world is Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA.



But even that doesn’t make it a fantasy vacation.

After years of vacationing here, by some oversight, fluke, I prefer to think of it as divine intervention, we’ve been assigned to a house two blocks from my favorite brewery which makes my favorite beer.

TWO FREAKIN'BLOCKS!!!

In the interest of full disclosure: in past years some of us drove to the pub in the middle of the afternoon and got so hopped up we had to leave the car in the lot and walk 3 miles back. And walking 3 miles all hopped up is dangerous because there are all kinds of other pubs along the way and well, you get the idea (don’t worry, our kids have been well instructed on what to do if they get caught in a rip tide).

Anyway, I am kidless,
and two blocks from the best pub in the world,
and the best pub in the world has free Wi-Fi.

What could be better?

This:




The day we leave Rehoboth I’m heading to Baltimore to see Wilco at the Virgin Festival. As many of you may know, I like my Wilco. And if you don’t know, reread the previous sentence.

In the interest of full disclosure: the Cusack thing is really just a lark. I always wanted to use that word, lark. I think it’s United Kingdom for harmless frolic. The love of my fantasy life is really Jeff Tweedy of Wilco (I think Ms. Picket knows that).

And now I have my Jeff Tweedy,
and my hops,
and my Wi-Fi,
and the beach—which I promised the kids I would indeed visit one of these days.

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Stay tuned for Caption Contest Winners Chosen Live from Dogfish Head. Or not, depending…

Until then, VOTE for this post at Humor-Blogs where there is a lot of lark.