Spring Break 1979
That was the first time I ever took a warm weather winter vacation. A carload of my dorm girlies and I trekked from Michigan to Fort Myers, Florida, to spend a week in the sun at one of the girl's parents' new condo.
We did not fully grasp ahead of time the fact that said condo was in a retirement community. But that's a story for another day.
My point here is that that junior year trip to Florida was not only my first snow-to-sunshine getaway, but until last month, it was also my last.
Uh huh. Yes. You heard that right.
For more years than I care to count, I have never taken another mid-winter escape vacation.
Not one.
Now don't feel too sorry for me. I've enjoyed a zillion fabulous vacations.
But I hadn't indulged in another cold-to-warm weather trip until my eldest said to me last summer, "I'm going to be so sad when pool season is over. I might need to go somewhere warm next winter to get a fix."
And I, knowing to strike when the iron was finally hot, said, "Yes. I'm in."
Which is how we came to find ourselves in sunny Palm Springs, California, last month with crystal clear expectations as to how we were to spend our long weekend:
Go to pool.
Read.
Swim and splash about.
Eat.
Check, check, check. And check.
We had a glorious stay under the blissfully blue desert sky, and I've got the pics to prove it. Who knows, I may not wait another forty-six years to go back.
^ Goodbye, Palm Springs! See you in 2071. :)
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