Jackie Wells-Fauth
One of the fun ways in which Roy and I test our marriage to see if it is strong and healthy is a little exercise we call the “vacation planning test.” This vastly resembles the grocery shopping test that I have already mentioned, but with a few differences. The main one is that unlike grocery shopping which can be solved by sending only one, the vacation planned by a couple must then be ENJOYED by the same couple. This can present some sticky moments.
I’ve always felt if Roy was going to throw me out for good, he would do it while we were planning vacation. Not only do we vastly differ in our desires for activities on vacation, we also differ on just how to plan it.
Take our most recent endeavor. We planned a vacation of about a week and a half driving. For me, it’s a matter of getting into the car, having a general direction and then, making it up as I go. This is not a terrible plan, either, because some of my best finds on vacation have come from me reading the map while he is driving down the highway or watching for the signs overhead.
Unfortunately, I live with a mate who not only wants everything planned, but requires that I sit down with him while he painstakingly puts together the trip “itinerary.” For those of you intensely organized people out there who are nodding in agreement with this plan, may I suggest to you (as I frequently have to him) that you stuff it in your “estimated time of arrival.”
“Okay,” Roy will say, pulling up his already mapped out schedule in Excel, “let’s decide how this vacation is going to go.” I am already half asleep and half annoyed. “The first thing we must plan is to be at our destination for the Twins game in Pittsburg.” It has been his goal in life to see the Twins lose in as many different stadiums around the country as he can. They seldom let him down. My ambition is to find a good book to read while I am sitting in those stadiums. It fascinates the security people when all they have to search for me is the pages of whatever book I am ignoring the game with.
“I thought the idea was to go to Niagara Falls,” I question.
“Yes, but as you can see, that is scheduled for Sunday afternoon. Once we’ve ridden the Maid of the Mist out to the falls, what else is there to do?”
“Go over the edge in a barrel?” My suggestion does not make it onto the itinerary.
“I’m afraid in order to make the schedule work, we will not be able to fit in Millard Filmore’s museum,” he says, making some adjustments to the calendar.
“Poor Millard,” I sigh, “perhaps if we don’t stay too long at the fort (how long can you look at a cannon) we could fit him in. He gets so little respect, we should try to drop by.”
“No chance; if we do that, we have to move around this battlefield and we won’t be able to take the ferry out to this island. Millard’s out,” he decides.
At that point, we begin figuring out (okay, he begins figuring out) how long it takes to get from one event to the next. We will have time for the Wright Brothers—however Wyatt Earp might be in question. While I am thrilled that the itinerary just can’t squeeze in a 15 mile hike, I admit, I would be okay with hitting up the James Garfield museum.
“Well, we’ll have to see,” he says, checking his list. “If we do that, I’ll have to rearrange four other events on the schedule.”
“Don’t do that, it’ll take two hours more with this. Garfield was assassinated in office; he can probably bear the disappointment of our not being there.”
Finally, painstakingly, day by excruciating day, we get the itinerary settled up. We have every moment accounted for and every fun activity planned to within an inch of its life. Will this itinerary hold up? Will we make it to the Sherman museum, or will another ball game squeeze it out? Only time will tell and what I’ve learned over the years is, no matter how well-planned the itinerary, we pretty much end up making it up as we go.
May all of your marriages survive the planning of the annual vacation.
dropsinthewell 