I’m supposed to be in Utah right now.  I’m supposed to be packing up the remains of the house, selling off a bunch of crap priceless heirlooms, and generally seeing people I don’t get to see as often as I’d like. 

I’m not there, obviously.  Monday I had a big pity party for myself, but ever since then I’ve been all right.  I’m trying to remember (and mostly succeeding) that not always being in control is in the plan, and there’s not a whole lot I can do at the moment, other than hope another buyer shows up soon. 

However, I still reserve the right to be completely irrational, and I’ve decided to throw my family in the car and go to San Diego over the fourth of July weekend.  SeaWorld, here we come!  The news of this trip assauged my children’s sadness that the Utah trip was cancelled. 

Actually, I really think a lot of it was the fact that school is starting up again in a couple of weeks (let’s hear it for a year-round schedule!  Can I get a woot-woot!) and my oldest knew she was going to be faced with the question “What did you do over the Summer Break?” and she would have to answer with “Nothing.” (Unless you count going to the local skating rink, which I have TOTALLY DONE, which is progress for me, even if I didn’t actually strap on any skates.) 

And now she can tell people she went to California and saw Shamu, although I can’t possibly believe it’s the same Shamu as the one I used to go see when I was little.  I can’t be positive on that, not being completely “up” on my knowledge of the Orca and its life span, but I’m willing to bet there have been several “Shamu”s over the years.

So now I have replaced my fear with something concrete and fun to look forward to.  Please don’t rob my house while I’m gone.