I survived. It wasn't pretty, at times it certainly wasn't easy, but as the old adage goes, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
More importantly, I didn't kill my mother. Or even maim her. For that, I'd like to take the time to appropriately thank the people responsible for such a Herculean feat.
Kevin Brauch, a.k.a. The Thirsty Traveller on the Food network, you are a good man. You didn't need to convince me of the joys of Jagermeister, (me and ole Jagger go wayyyyy back), but I am certainly thankful you shared your stash with me. You were soley responsible for my mother surviving Monday night after I was stuck in a vehicle with her for over six hours through a snow storm.
I should also thank Steven and Drew, who took it upon themselves to keep me in supply of Jack Daniels and a wonderful cabernet from Beringer's through out my trip. Without those two fine gentlemen, I most certainly would have throttled my mother on Tuesday, after listening to her tease me about how only cheap tramps get tattoos.
I may be a tramp, mommy dearest, but I assure you, I am most certainly not cheap. Ask my husband. He'll tell you.
I'd also like to thank Clyde, a 70+ year old gentleman who hand delivered a beautiful bottle of burgundy to my table, as thanks for simply reminding him of his wife in her younger days. Apparently, I am a spitting image of his beloved Eleanor in her hay day. He misses her dearly.
And a special thanks to Gordon, a fellow journalist who I ran into at the resort. I love the fact that you gushed about me to my mother and kept telling her how talented I was and how lucky she was to have me as a daughter. I never asked him to sing my praises, but it sure felt good when he did.
And yes Mom, I do realize he was hitting on me. I wasn't blind. Only drunk.
All in all, the week was a success. At least the part of it I can remember.
But it is good to be home. Safe in the arms of my Boo, and far, faraway from my mother.