if we're going to be completely honest here

Vacations aren't usually perfect, right?  They have moments of perfection and also moments of what the heck?

For example.  The vacation Jack and I just finished up was pretty great.  Washington state is beautiful in many ways--trees and trees and trees and rain forest and beach and ocean and wildlife living in the forest and on the beach and in the ocean. 

But there were moments.

For example, when I realized that even though I had recently inadvertently purchased 48 tubes of my favorite lip balm on Amazon--thinking I had purchased one dozen, but somehow purchased a store display container that had four times that number, which may be a lifetime of lip balm--anyway, of course I found myself miles and miles from home when I realized the tube of my lip protection of choice was nearly gone and I'll be dammed if I was going to buy yet another one when I have 47 of them waiting for me at home.  My lips and I spent the last few days in Washington state wishing I had more chapstick-like stuff with me. 

Probably not Washington's fault.

Another not perfect thing about this trip?  Styes.  Multiple.  Way down inside my right eye lower eyelid.  Should have seen or rather sensed them coming on, but I didn't recognize them for themselves until it was far too late to do much of anything beyond massively suffering through them.  Which I did, massively suffer.  A visit to the eye doc today confirmed somewhat confortingly that they do indeed really hurt.  More wet hot compresses, with antibiotic drops and steroid drops and perhaps in a week or so they'll be all gone and my eye will return to its normal size, shape, color, & etc. 

Probably not Washington's fault either.

Another issue with this trip?  Holy cow, Washington is far away.  Long, long drive, and on the way home, with a really sore eye. 

That distance thing?  Totally Washington's fault.

And wind.  Serious wind.  So much wind that trees were blown down, blocking roads, knocking out power, stopping ferry service, requiring rerouting.  We didn't include ferry rides in our road trip, but did need to cross a couple of really long bridges.  Traffic was completely stopped on these bridges.  The wind was blowing so hard, the bridges were jumping and swaying, as was the truck.  It was what I imagine an earthquake would feel like.  Almost completely unnerving, maybe after reading a magazine article a few weeks back about the major earthquake that is due any minute in Washington.

But we made it.  Thanks to Siri and iPhone.  We would probably still be in Washington were it not for those two.  Again, obviously Washington's fault.

Then there were the rainbirds in Idaho.  These were a good, somewhat melancholy moment. 

When I was a kid, my dad liked to go for family drives.  Almost every weekend, we piled in the car and he drove us someplace like Evanston or Heber or Nephi or Coalville where we'd eat dinner or at least have ice cream and then we'd pile back in and drive back home.  He loved to drive and he liked to eat in cafes and diners and at ice cream stands.  One time while driving, he asked me if I saw that on the mountain.  I asked what?  He said that.  I said what?  He said the rainbirds.  There are rainbirds over there on the mountains keeping everything green.  I said, rainbirds?  He said, rainbirds.  The perfect sprinkler.  If they put rainbirds everywhere, everything would be green.  And then he laughed and laughed.  So I laughed.  And every time we went for a drive after that he'd ask if I could see that and I'd say what? and he'd say that and I'd say what?  And he'd laugh and together we'd say, the rainbirds.  Keeping everything green.  If only they'd put rainbirds everywhere, everything would be so green. 

Yesterday in Idaho, as we drove by miles and miles of farmland, I saw sprinklers.  Not just any sprinklers, but rainbirds.  Miles of rainbirds keeping everything green. 

I took pictures to show my dad.  Because even though he can't remember a lot of stuff now, I'm pretty sure he'll remember rainbirds.  And remembering them will bring a big smile to his face and we will laugh together again.

Finally, there was the part of the trip that was pretty much just right, the main reason for the trip--Jack going to his woodworking class for six days to learn how to make a chair using only hand tools--chisels, planes, saws. 

He had a great time. Many perfect moments, cutting and gouging and filing with old friend tools he's collected over the years and becoming familiar with all of the new tools we bought in Maine. 

In approximately 48 hours, over six days, he nearly completed a lovely walnut chair.

I could tell he'd had a great time when he started fooling around while posing.

Clearly a moment of satisfaction for him.  Totally worth the drive and the wind and the lack of chapstick and maybe even the styes.  Maybe.