I carried a watermelon?!

The resort where my family spent the weekend reminded me of Kellerman's (the resort that's the setting for Dirty Dancing, of course), although we were in the Poconos and not in the Catskills, and, as far as I know, there was no little old couple stealing wallets. But this was a place in a gorgeous, sprawling setting, one where lots of guests returned summer after summer, where there were tons of family activities (not quite "everyone try on a wig!", but stuff like bingo in the lodge), where we were sort of removed from the real world for a few days.

We played a lot outside; despite some scattered showers throughout the weekend, we mostly had pretty good weather. I went running on both Saturday and Sunday mornings, making my way slowly, slowly, slowly up a ridiculously steep hill that was unavoidable if I wanted to go more than half a mile from our house. The Smelmooo and I went kayaking; we rode in bumper boats equipped with squirt guns; we went down the waterslide into the lake (the Smelmooo even won a medal in a waterslide contest); we attempted to waterski.

That didn't turn out so well; I never actually made it to a standing position, and I pulled a hamstring when my legs splayed out as I tried to get myself upright, so now I'm just hobbling about. It's really annoying, and I feel stupid, and I keep wondering whether I stretched properly after my run on Sunday morning, and whether I could've avoided the injury. But I'm pretty sure I can cross another item off my to-do list, right? I don't know if it's an "accomplished" or strictly a "no longer interested" for waterskiing, but I think I'm done with that list item for quite a while.

So now, it seems like I'm getting this glimpse of what it will be like when I'm old and infirm, and it's sobering. I have to build in extra time to get myself to meetings at work, because I'm moving pretty slowly, still. I haven't been able to exercise properly since Sunday, and it's making me crabby and depressed. I have been trying to stretch and do some Pilates and that sort of stuff, but I still can't quite touch my toes without bending my knees. If I try to sit with my legs in a V, either on the floor or in the air, they make it only to about a 75-degree angle (when I was little, it was easily 180). Last night, the Smelmooo and I were wrestling on the couch, and without thinking, he pushed my leg back, and I howled in pain and dropped an F-bomb. It wasn't pretty.

Maybe this is good for me; maybe it'll teach me patience, with myself and with other people. I was walking into work today, realizing that I normally blow past people on the way from the parking lot to the door and get frustrated with how slowly everyone else walks, and here I was, just ambling along, with everyone else zooming by me. So maybe it's good for me to slow down, smell the roses, blah blah blah. But for now, it's making me insane, and I'm frustrated that it's taking me so long to heal, and I'm simultaneously scared of waiting too long to get back to exercising and worried that I'll injure it worse if I go back too soon.

Anyway, enough about me being a gimp. The weekend on the whole was about what I expected, I guess: some bad behavior from both the adults and the kids, but also a lot of lovely, fun and funny moments.

There was a little too much Fox News for my taste, but I decided not to engage in any discussion of politics, which I think helped to keep the peace. Some huge drama when my four-year-old niece fell and shattered her tooth, so her parents drove her back to their dentist at home, leaving my parents to mind their other two kids for the day. (A dollar from the tooth fairy for the shattered tooth, by the way.) A little bit of heated and sometimes mean-spirited competition during the games and contests.

But also lots and lots of laughter, especially in those goofy bumper boats, and when we played Imaginiff and WhoNu. Lots of chaos -- the good kind, though -- when all of us converged on one house for breakfast each day.

And lots of nice moments: A horribly off-key rendition of "happy birthday" followed by the most random assortment of utensils, dishes and bowls for eating birthday cake, because none of us had thought to bring plasticware. My parents beaming about how they're "such lucky ducks." Highly competitive but good-natured ping-pong tournaments. The kids all eating the chocolate chips intended for the pancakes, then falling down in heaps on the floor, pretending they'd been poisoned (weird, I know, and possibly one of those "you had to be there" experiences, but it was kind of funny, and I just think it's sweet when all the cousins play together, even when they're being dopey).

Kids are weird; families are weird. I was grateful for the peace and quiet when the Smelmooo and I made our way home, and I wouldn't want to spend every weekend away with my huge crazy family. But it's nice, now and again, to spend time with the people who've known you the longest, who always love you even if they don't like you, who may be totally different from you but are still connected to you, because you've shared that history, those ties that bind forever. And, as they sing at Kellerman's, holding hands and hearts and voices, voices, hearts and hands.