In the wee morning hours on the day were due to drop Kiddo off at camp, he woke up with a mysterious stomach bug. Food poisoning? A virus? Who knows. It was awful and his status as a camper was in serious question.
We eeked our way through a rather tumultuous day that involved hours more of driving in order to make the 3p drop off time. With frequent I don't feel so good stops, our confidence that he would overcome his ick was rapidly dwindling.
Yet once we pulled into camp, he perked up. Way up. Although still a bit peaked, he was ready to go. The camp nurse assured us she'd call if he suffered a relapse and Jared insisted he had been cured by the fresh ocean air. Wary, and uncertain, we left. We. Were. Exhausted. Totally and utterly exhausted.
I'm telling you that camp is magic. I went there in fifth grade and maintain that it is full of fairies and unicorns. All these years later, I still have such fond memories of that week spent at Camp Kirby 22 years ago. (Dude, I'm old. I wanted to write 12 years ago but realized I was off by a whole decade.)
This was supposed to be our week. The week where we got the rare chance to focus on ourselves, and each other, while exploring the Pacific Northwest. We have a better chance of finding Sasquatch than scoring a week free from work, school, and parenting duties. With fingers and toes crossed we ventured out, but not too far in case we got that, Um, Mr. and Mrs. Maichel? Jared just threw up all over the breakfast table, call.
We visited Whidbey Island, my favorite of the many places we called home when I was a child. After dinner in Oak Harbor, and a view of the military base I lived on--from afar, we drove down the island in search of a place to lay our heads. What we found was the town of Langley.
|My driving with the windows down hair.|
Langley is the town equivalent of my soulmate. I could live there forever. And ever. Since I insisted that we live on the edge and not make reservations (planning ahead will kill the sense of adventure, Maaaariooo), we quickly discovered that everything was booked... except the Saratoga Inn. It was a bit more that we had intended to pay, especially on our first night, but it was sooo worth it. We haven't regretted the splurge for a second. The room was lovely, breakfast was amazing, and the grounds were gorgeous. The owner was so kind and led us in the direction of what ended up being a great drive down the Olympic Peninsula. I loved every second of our stay.
|The flowers on this plant smelled like chocolate. I've never seen anything like it!|
I can see myself waking up every morning in Langley, walking to the local coffee shop for some brew and a paper, and riding my bike to work at the local clinic. Bliss. This sleepy little ocean town is at the top of my vacation home destination list. A girl can dream.