When my dad called me a few weeks back asking if we would be able to make it out to Moab on a weekend getaway with him and my stepmom and the rest of my siblings, I was nothing but excited--I had wanted to go to Moab again for years, and I conveniently had enough paid vacation days at work to take advantage of the situation.
First off, when my whole family is involved, I really should just plan on there being some craziness. After all, the last trip when we all got together with my dad, we ended up almost getting arrested for trespassing and our car almost got stuck in the mud for the rest of time and all eternity on the way back from fishing.
My second clue that this trip might not be the relaxing adventure I'd planned for was that the night before we were due to leave, I came down with the nastiest sore throat of my life (not to mention a whole body full of aches and pains and shivers). So, instead of leaving at 6:30 AM the next morning as scheduled, we hung around in Logan until 8:00 when the Instacare opened, where I could get the confirmation that I did, indeed, have the dreaded strep that I thought I did.
I think at this point, most reasonable people would have just stayed home. After all, strep is not some trifling little cold that you can just ignore for hours at a time while you go soak in pools and go on crazy hikes. But, in a moment of decision fueled by FOMO (fear of missing out), I decided that I would regret it more if we didn't go than if we did, so off we went.
I'll spare you a blow-by-blow account of how I gradually got sicker and sicker the longer the vacation went, but I will include some of the general highlights of the trip:
* We missed out on the first day's activities because of our late start and my sick condition, but we sure had the most amazing salmon I've ever eaten that night. I normally hate salmon, but there was something about the plethora of butter and slivered almonds and dill on top that made it just exactly what I needed.
* I think we all (Raven included) got about 5 hours of sleep that first night. Between 9 rambunctious children and several snoring adults, my body definitely was going to have to rely on something other than sleep to get better.
* Once I saw the beautiful lodge and surrounding country we'd be staying at, I was determined to get some pictures at sunrise (a wish made much easier by the fact that I wasn't sleeping anyway, so I might as well get up and go do something). Enter the most terrifyingly wolf-like dog into my peripheral vision while I'm taking out my camera around 6 a.m., and I about had a panic attack on the spot. Apparently the dog hung around the property and was really friendly, but when you see a dog that's easily big enough to eat you blocking your way back inside, it's not easy to stay calm. So, I did what any rational person would do--when the dog came closer, I gritted my teeth and hoped he'd let me pet him without biting my hand off, then I scrammed inside as fast as I could and made my sister distract the beast so I could still get the pictures I wanted.
* I decided I felt well enough for a hike that next day, so I braved the Delicate Arch trail (which was one that I actually had never been on despite my other trips to Moab earlier in my life). We were all supposed to meet at the trailhead first thing after getting into the park, but let's just say that that didn't happen, so those of us who were actually where we'd said we would be went on ahead and beat everyone else to the top by a good 20 minutes.
* Once back to our lodge that night, I was feeling about a hundred times worse than I had felt at any point on the trip. Not willing to face another sleepless night and not willing to keep my family up with the imminent trips to the bathroom that would be coming that night, I decided that we were going to make an emergency road trip back home. At 9 p.m. Meaning that we wouldn't get into Bountiful (our stopping point) until 2 a.m.
* After throwing up multiple times in a row in the car and thinking we were getting pulled over by a cop but not actually getting pulled over and going through a lightning storm, we made it back.
When asked if it was all worth it once we were back at home, I replied to my husband--
"Absolutely, because at least now I don't have to live with the regret of wondering what would have happened if we'd just gone."
So there you go, folks--
My philosophy of life rationalizing why I sometimes do insane things.
But hey, at least I got some decent pictures out of it, right?
P.S. Sorry that I wasn't much fun on the trip, family---and I'm sure hoping that none of you get what I have. But thanks for being willing to put up with me!