not that you asked...

It still works

Dave and I were both a little nervous before our vacation. Some of that nervousness was explained by the separation of ourselves from our children for the longest amount of time ever (and our first time leaving them both) but we were also (and maybe this sounds silly) kind of nervous about being alone together for that same amount of time. I mean, we knew the kids would be fine. We were nervous and anxious about it, but I think deep down, we both had a certain peace about the situation, too. I was never concerned for their safety or their happiness; only that they might miss the comforts of home and not know how to adapt. (Spoiler alert: THEY DID GREAT.)

We've had date nights and special occasion hotel stays and one three-day mini-break with friends in Atlanta the week after Asher turned one, but when was the last time it was just the two of us, sans distractions? Date nights only last a few hours; you have to check out of most hotels by 11 am. This was just going to be US, ALONE, for six whole days. Six days!

So what if it turned out that we didn't have anything in common any more except THE KIDS? Do you know how much awkward silence you could potentially cram into six days? How much tension you could plausibly pack into a rented Chevy Malibu?

I have long since held the theory that Dave and I do not have anything in common. I mean, yes, there's all the love and marital devotion and crap, but in terms of hobbies, we do not enjoy buckets and buckets of the same kinds of things. We do not exercise together or listen to the same kind of music (there are a handful of exceptions) and there are many MANY things that I enjoy passionately (shopping, people watching, reading fiction, lying on a baking hot beach wearing a tankini) that he can't drum up even one measly iota of interest for. Granted, it goes both ways – you would have to pay me an obscene amount of money to read and discuss a textbook on Cisco Networking or other such nonsense. (I can hear Dave now: “That other such nonsense PAYS THE BILLS!”) (Which, yes, it does, but that doesn't make it interesting!)

I have always been the trip planner for the two of us. Vacations are generally my idea (Dave never seems really enthusiastic about the idea of spending money) and I do 98 percent of the planning. I book plane tickets, I research hotels, I make itineraries that are detailed with the hours attractions are open and whether we should expect crowds. I pack everyone's suitcases, even. Dave is very much a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy as a result. I mean, I guess if he had to plan the trip, he'd do ok, but he doesn't have to, so he doesn't get excited or enthusiastic until we're heading to the airport. So I've always chosen what we do and how we spend our time. And here's where I've been going wrong: We've almost always done trips that center around cities. It took me six and a half years of marriage and six days in Arizona to figure out that cities aren't our thing.

Oh sure, some day we want to see Seattle and he wants to take me to San Francisco, but other than that, I can't imagine us planning another urban vacation. Because this last one was just so good. You know what we enjoy together? As barftastic as it sounds, we enjoy being outdoors, looking at gorgeous scenery, hiking and exploring. We don't like feeling pressured to visit 86 important museums or eat beautiful food or figure out what to wear to blend in so that we don't stick out like big sore tourist thumbs. I don't want to browse through unique boutique shops if it means that he sits on a bench outside, bored to tears. We like watching each other do things that are outside our comfort zones (I am still EXTREMELY proud of myself for that three-hour ATV rental in the mountains of Colorado) and we like packing sunscreen and extra socks and hiking boots in our carry-on luggage.

It's not just that we like all that stuff, either – it's that we like doing it together. I like hiking and exploring and being dirty at the end of a day (do you even KNOW HOW GOOD THAT SHOWER FEELS?) but there is this extra boost knowing that I've found something that Dave likes equally well, and that we're doing it and no one is worried about whether the other one is bored or irritated or frustrated that we haven't gotten around to their ideal itinerary yet.

We went out to breakfast the morning of our departure from Phoenix, and it was the first time ever ever ever in the history of all the trips we've ever taken (other than maybe our honeymoon, maybe), that Dave has actually wanted to start talking about the NEXT trip we want to plan before we've finished the one we were already on. That's how I know it was a success. That's how I know we had a great time. That's what makes me feel that should we ever find ourselves in a rut, in that frustrating place where busy schedules and screaming kids and Life Stuff gets us way way down, and we start to worry that we're growing apart and don't have anything in common anymore and wouldn't even like each other if we were given the opportunity to talk for more than six seconds at a time, I will be able to remember this trip and how it all came back so easily, and that now I am reassured beyond a doubt that we have built a solid foundation for our marriage. A solid foundation that isn't cracked or marred by all the pressure we've put on it. I'm so happy to know that.

This is better than me putting it in my Christmas letter, you know?

The truth is that we went to Sedona FIRST, before we went to the Grand Canyon. There. I feel better now, not living a lie and all. It's just that I had so much I wanted to say about the Grand Canyon that it couldn't wait for me to describe our trip in the exact right order. And I know some of you don't really care about my Detailed Trip Report but I have to get it all down before I forget it and then NEXT week I will post my Emotional Impact Trip Report, which you might remember was the whole point of going out to Arizona for six days anyway.

As an aside, did you know it's a long flight to Arizona from Washington, DC? Especially if you go through Atlanta? Which is why I chose a window seat! For both flights! And it worked out PERFECTLY for the flight that was one hour and twenty minutes, but then we got on a flight that was FOUR hours and twenty minutes and the sign above our row said there was a window seat so WHERE, EXACTLY, IS MY WINDOW?

Anyway, Sedona was beautiful and relaxing and charming. We drove up from Phoenix and I remember saying to Dave that everyone had told me Sedona was so gorgeous and amazing and yet we were driving through this patchy desert-y cactus-filled landscape and I was starting to have serious doubts that we were going to just crest a hill and all the scenery was going to change from brown and dry and scraggly to MAGNIFICENT. But I was wrong! We turned off onto the two-lane road to Sedona, drove three-or-so-ish miles and suddenly we were in a freaking postcard.

We ate lunch and wandered around the uptown area for a bit, where Dave made a bunch of vortex jokes that made me think he had no idea what people believe vortexes even are, and a few about crystals and sweat lodges and then we decided to go MOUNTAIN BIKING. Oh yes, I am totally serious. Well, we didn't bike OVER a mountain. Just around one. Hardly the same thing.

I couldn't remember the last time I had ridden a bike, but it turns out riding a bike is just like (WAIT FOR IT) riding a bike! I didn't fall off and I didn't even struggle all that much and I even got to the point where the downhill parts were FUN and I didn't continually squeeze the brake to limit myself to .03 mph! It felt good to do something active and different.

There were a lot of old people in Sedona, too. At first, I couldn't tell if they lived there or were bused in on a tour, but we soon decided it was both, as we saw them swarming into the tourist shops and then we spotted this:

I suppose it's nice that there weren't any mass murders to report, but still...

Really, for the most part, we just took in the scenery and plodded around. There weren't any naptimes to make or mouths to wrangle food into or tantrums to intercept and it was amazing how... I don't want to say boring, but how... simple it felt. We spent one whole afternoon walking between three different ice cream shops, debating the pros and cons of each one before committing, and it felt like such a LUXURY. We had so much time, in fact, that we started running out of things to do, which meant we went to bed at 9:30 and got up (I am not even kidding) FOR THE SUNRISE. I TOTALLY understand why elderly people have dinner at four and get up when the rooster crows – THEY'RE BORED. And I don't mean that we were bored, because we were completely enjoying it, but if there's one thing to be said for children, it is that they make you appreciate every moment you can snatch to enjoy by yourself.

On our way out of Sedona (when we were driving up to the Canyon, which yes, I know I'm telling this in the wrong order but it's MY VACATION) we stopped and hiked a few miles of the West Fork Trail and it involved stream crossings on narrow footbridges made out of branches and rocks and it was WAY HARDER THAN IT LOOKED. Can I give you a tip? You know, in case you ever need to make a river crossing on narrow footbridges made out of branches and rocks? Get a stick. Use it for balance. Poke it into the water and lean on it. Wish I'd thought of such an easy fix about six stream crossings earlier. We could have made WAY better time. (Probably best that we didn't, because we would have gone to bed at 6:30.)

 

Why, yes, it WAS rather grand. Thank you for asking.

I think it should go without saying that seeing the Grand Canyon absolutely took my breath away. If you've been there, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. No photograph does it justice, and the feeling of standing on the edge of something so unbelievably beautiful and astonishing and ENORMOUS is indescribable. Which is why I think I said, “Wow!” about 46,000 times over the course of the 40 or so hours we were there. Oh, sure, sometimes I said, “I can't believe it!” and other times I said, “This is amazing!” but MOST of the time I said, “WOW!” or, alternately, “WOWOWOWOWOW!” This is a perfect example of how my written communication skills far exceed my verbal ones.

But you know what was just as fascinating as the scenery and the... well, the grand-ness and the fact that I stood five-ish feet away from a real live ELK? 

 

You guys, no one is around to make sure you don't fall into the thing. I AM SO NOT KIDDING. I was not PREPARED FOR THIS. Did you know that there are places at the Grand Canyon where there are 3,000 foot sheer dropoffs? And did you know that there is a PATH – a dirt freaking PATH – that takes you RIGHT ALONG THE EDGE? There is! You can walk right on it! You don't have to prove you're a good walker or that you don't trip a lot or anything! And there's no fence or guard rail and no one made us sign any kind of Legal Release Form when we entered the park! THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT JUST TRUSTS THAT YOU WILL NOT FALL OVER THE SIDE. They posted a sign that says so!

Well, I'll tell you what. The U.S. Government might trust me, but I certainly don't trust me. I did a decent job walking when I wasn't thinking about how far down I might fall if I slipped on a rock or a kernel of elk poop, but when I thought too much about it, or when the path narrowed, or, and I am not even kidding, whenever I wanted to look down INTO the thing instead of ACROSS it even if there was a strategically-placed FENCE that I could cling woozily to, my stomach went all fluttery and I had to cut that walking crap out and start inching wherever it was I needed to go.

And don't get me started on how hard it was to watch my very fearless husband walk to the edges of rock outcroppings and stretch his arms out for a “rush.”

Sometimes during his rush-seeking he would ask me to take his picture and even though I would be standing YARDS upon YARDS away from the edge, I would almost have to sit down on the ground to not be dizzy with fright while watching him. Whenever we stopped at an overlook or particularly jaw-dropping section of the trail, I had to beg and plead with him not to wander out onto a rock. I couldn't bear to watch; in fact, whenever he walked further than I was comfortable with (and granted, my standards were set pretty low; I saw people carrying BABIES farther than I was willing to go sometimes) I would have to turn around and ignore him altogether. I COULDN'T DO IT. And I am not particularly afraid of heights, even!

The other thing I just COULD NOT GET OVER was the bus we had to ride to get to some of the overlooks. Cars are prohibited on one of the roads during the high season months, so we had to take the free (and very clean and reliable) bus instead. Except the road practically HUGS the edge of the canyon and there were times I just could not help but wonder what might happen should our lovely, kind, also ELDERLY bus driver suffer a catastrophic heart attack. WE WOULD ALL DIE A FIERY FIERY PLUNGING DEATH, is what would happen. But voicing this kind of opinion is considered a bit... nutty, if you will (ok, so Dave said I was nutty), so I just white-knuckled the handrails and closed my eyes when I got nervous. I guess really it wasn't that I was afraid of heights so much as I didn't trust anyone but my own person around that big hole in the ground.

There were a lot of old people at the Grand Canyon. Lots of old people and lots of foreigners, which surprised me. I know we visited at a time when public school is in session, so that had a lot to do with it, but the sheer volume of old people surprised me at first, until I realized that the Grand Canyon is the PERFECT national park for old people: for the most part, the accessible parts are completely flat, and you can see the whole thing from a BUS or by driving your Lincoln up to a parking space on the edge and poking your (probably film) camera out the window. Plus, there are CAFETERIAS. Old people LOOOOOOVE cafeterias! One night we ate at the cafeteria and while Dave paid for our meals, I scored us a table and when Dave joined me he gave me this, “You couldn't do better?” look because we were sitting next to two rather unpleasant old people (truly, I have nothing against old people, for the most part I find them adorable, but these two were hacking up their lungs) but I was able to point out that there were NO OTHER OPTIONS. Everywhere you looked, there were elderly people, eating green jello and drinking coffee out of a straw and wearing those drapey polyester pants that you KNOW are elastic waisted and doing that old person phlegmy cough thing. Also the room was filled with the scent of old lady perfume. The Grand Canyon is not party central. NEWS FLASH.

The other night we were there, we had dinner at the bar inside our hotel and without even THINKING about it, I ended up having the meal I had announced by way of Style Lush that would be my ideal Last Meal Ever if I had to choose one.

Yeah, so, the next day was a LITTLE NERVEWRACKING, you know? Because look what we had to drive to get to Sedona:

EEEP! TO BE CONTINUED...