It is only fitting that I caught Swingers on the tube this week. 

The Universe must have known I had yet another trip planned for Vegas.

I don't mean to Vegas-hate, but, come on lets be real, it is a BIZARRE place.

Hmm, lets build a shiny, out of scale, disneyland with gambling in the middle of the desert.  Then lets try to make it a family place, no wayz out, that might not be a good idea.

Screw Paris, who needs to go there, lets bring Paris to us, we can build our own Eiffel Tower. 

Screw NY, who needs to really go there, bring the statue of liberty here, or you can just buy a book about it at the gift shop.

If we build casinos that no one can find their way out of, we can make lots of money.

Lets spend a million dollars on bears made of carnations, and reindeer made of pecans and people will come from all over to see this crap.  Then we can feed them in troths, make them pay $15 for wireless to post on their blog, make sure they see more boobs in a weekend than they do all year, offer them free drinks so they will become robotic gamblers, and overstimulate them until they go out of their minds so their reality is skewed enough to think this is the greatest place on earth.

Of course I am referring mostly to the strip because other parts of Vegas can be groovy.

In fact, my favorite international market is in Vegas.

Think Cosco meets every ethnic country.  Cheap, awesome, and you are likely to find some items that you have no clue of what they are.

Wish I had a car this trip.  Sob.

http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/krPKgiC0EolDhSHz3kLp6g?select=0ofvo82xV7r4PAbMmlOP0g

All that said, I am having fun with the women in my family for my cousin's 40th. 

I have learned that Criss Angel needs therapy, and that my family is hilarious. 

I have to say, a trip away for Mama, with some of her girls, does the mind and spirit good. 

And being able to pee and shower alone and uninterupted, well, I had forgotten how good that could be. 

I only hope my cousin has a but of amnesia about her party when it comes time for my 40th.

I think I will request a trip to an Indian sweatlodge just to see what my family does.

. . .and, it was WAY better than I imagined.

Perhaps because the last time I ran away, I was 6 years old, and it involved the cops, worried parents and neighbors, and an uneventful conclusion.

It was my brother and fathers fault for not paying attention to me that day, even if it was Super Bowl Sunday.  I was pretty ticked off, so I packed a bag and mapped out my getaway plan.  It was difficult though, since I was not allowed to cross the street.  But given the corner where we lived and technicalities, I could have still gotten pretty far.

Just before I left, I decided to sit in our dark hall closet.  It was a place I often visited when I needed  to talk to G-d and ask advice.  I still have very distinct memories of these conversations that began when I was 3. 

My mother freaked when she got home, seeing the looks on the men's faces when she realized they had no idea where I was.  Lucky for me, by this time, I had fallen asleep and was oblivious to the cops and neighbors just on the other side of the sliding door that were searching everywhere for little old me. 

I had slipped once and let a stranger into my safe confession haven.  She just sat next to me, completely lost at how sitting in a dark closet might be interesting.  Needless to say, I never invited another soul into my safe haven, but I guess everything happens for a reason, because if it was not for her, perhaps my parents would not have found me.

Today, I decided to run away from home again. 

A much needed reprieve to pretend I still have a life of my own. 

A day when I did not have to answer to anyone, or have my kid stalker or husband in tow asking me to cook, clean, do laundry, or bathe them. 

I could follow the day where it lead me, and reinvent myself if I wished.

I drove to a quaint mountain town and roamed around, found a nearby Dairy Queen for an old favorite; an oreo blizzard.

I flirted with a young handsome stranger, made a snow angel, sat at a cafe and tweaked a film treatment for a friend, saw "This is It' reminiscing about different memories and decades in my life, stayed out till after dark, and was completely recharged.

I think I am going to run away from home at least once a month from now on.

If you want to see the good and bad in people, travel with a toddler.

As the looks of disdain for daring to leave the house and enter the real world with your two year old come at you as fast as trees passing by your car window as you drive 60 miles an hour, at some point you will need your own time out. 

All the judgment hurled at you will eventually turn inward and then exit back like a boomerang and you will begin to hate people and wish there was an alternate universe just for families with small children. 

Just as you are imagining what you would like to do to all those people, (ie take them hostage and have your son waterboard them with his sippy cup), someone will open a door, or smile at you in understanding and you will come back into your body and decide to let the others off the hook at least until the return flight when the above mentioned will happen all over again.

No matter how much you prepare, (bring snacks and toys he has never seen or eaten, his favorite toys that fit in your bag of tricks, every convenient store non parishable healthy item (yeah right), an emergency pacifier even though you have weaned him in the last few weeks, and everything else you thought might make a difference) instinctively your toddler knows that he can hold you hostage during the flight, and the more that you try to control the situtation, the more out of control he will become.

Perhaps there is a greater lesson here - our toddlers are trying to teach us to let go of control, to not care what others think, to relax and in turn they will relax, or perhaps they just enjoy watching us squirm and sharpen our skills for negotiating with terrorists.

Whatever the case or lesson, just know that the mom next to you with the screaming kid - shlepping a stroller, car seat, bag of tricks with well thought out emergency toys and snacks, and small convenience store items for every conceiveable occurance. . .

if she was able to drive to her sister's wedding or hop on a train with a private compartment rather than endure your judgements and nasty looks. . .

. . . she would have.

mmm, this is kind of good. . . 

 Sand is kind of tasty. . .

 Yummy  

 Wait a minute. . .

Yuck, this isn't good, mama, get it out of my mouth!

I am sure that I have mentioned that my family bought a nut farm in Hawaii.  It is quite possibly one of my favorite things to say about my family in recent years. 

Our trip was booked awhile ago, so we could check out the infamous nut farm and have a nice seder with my ma, sibs, and extended family.  Koodos to Leo, (also an only child) for not completely losing his mind in the managed chaos, though to my credit, I did send him away for a day when I saw the madness creeping into his eyes. 

The big island is quite amazing with every possible terrain you can imagine- lava rocks, luscious green landscape, volcanos, mountains where you can ski and beaches where you can relax.  Our family reunions are always chaotic and we all bitch about each other while we are there, but once we return to our lives away from each other, we miss each other very much.  I suppose most families are like this, or maybe I just don't know any different.

Isaac was overwhelmed by the large group, time change, etc and clung to me 24 x 7 for dear life.  If I thought he was a stalker before, he took it to new heighths this trip.  Thankfully he was kind to his younger cousin Otis- who loved smacking him over the head and tackling him to the ground - he just sat starry eyed with no response and mostly laughed.  Considering he beats the crap out of his friends at school and visa versa, it was a pleasant surprise. 

Isaac charmed his granny and enjoyed picking fruit and riding on the Jimee with her at amazing speeds, even though it scared me to death and I won't do it again without a support bra. 

Granny's little oasis is gorgeous, I can see why she never wants to come back to the mainland.