Nine days ago, I was apologizing to my daughter for working on her birthday, then furiously wrapping up emails, cleaning off my desk and preparing to leave the office until after the new year.

Eight days ago, I was in a waterpark, listening to my husband declare, “Oh my god, I’m Ricky Bobby,” enjoying a few cocktails with my sister and watching it snow indoors.

Seven days ago I was eating clam chowder and Chex mix, stuffing stockings and setting up a night vision trail cam to catch Santa.

Six days ago I was watching the kids unwrap presents, making individual apple pies in Mason jars and losing twenty bucks in a smoky casino.

Five days ago I was in a car for a long time.

Four days ago I stayed in my pajamas all day and made lentil soup.

Three days ago I saw the movie Hugo and subsequently become obsessed with Edith Piaf.

Two days ago I went to the mall.

Yesterday I made the kids banana-peanut butter canapes and pomegranate seeds for breakfast, started painting again and watched UFC on PPV.

Today I’m getting my hair cut, watching British comedies on OPB and making hopppin’ john.

Tomorrow I will start dreading the end of my vacation.

In two days  I will make sure all the laundry is done, the kids’ homework is ready to turn in, plan out the week’s meals and find my briefcase in the closet.

In three days my vacation is over.

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