If you are waiting my table in the South and you are older than me, you are more than welcome to call me sugar, hon, darlin’, or sweetheart.

If, however, you are a male in your early 20’s taking my order from behind the Wendy’s cash register in Platte City, Missouri, you are SO NOT ALLOWED to call me hon, twice. Understood?

I’m tucked away on some green berber carpet in a corner of a hotel room rightnow, lit only by the flourescent bathroom lights that spill onto my legs. All this in vain hopes that a particular 13 month-old chills out and passes gently into Dreamland despite the fact that she’s not in Kansas (or rather Nebraska) anymore.

She’s in St. Simons Island, Georgia. With her mother. And her Nana and Papa. Her uncles and aunt departed yesterday. Tomorrow her great uncle and great aunt, and second cousins, will head home as well.

Besides the regional differences, including all the “y’alls”, sweet tea and pecan pie, Livia is getting to experience the coastal life for the first time. Well, she’s not really “getting” to—she’s kind of being forced into it by her mama. I haven’t yet gotten her to choke down a piece of shrimp or crabcake, but I did insist that she hang out with me in the warm, shallow tide at the beach this afternoon. Wave after wave crested over my knees as she made pathetic “boo-boo” noises, never letting me forget the fact that she didn’t feel at all thrilled with the salty water. Like her dad, I think this one is happier on land where she can dig her little toes deep into the sand.

I’ve been thinking a lot about vacations, why we take them and how they tend to be a rare treat in my circles. I’d like to become one of those families who goes on holiday (see, I’m pretending to be European!) on a regular basis in order to regain rest and one’s senses. This entire vacation I’ve been wishing that I had a laptop of my own so I could spend some good time writing. I’ve never been the pencil and paper type of writer—they slow down my thoughts too much and I give up before I’ve captured anything worth capturing. Getting away from home, encountering new people, smelling new odors, eating new dishes, they all grant me a spark of creativity that sometimes goes missing from my day to day life.

Shoot. I just heard a wail from the munchkin. Sigh… Getting this kid to sleep in the same room as me has been interesting. I can’t wait until we’re at home again and I’m sharing a room with my gorgeous husband while she’s across the hall her own space. For now, though, I’ll continue to enjoy my brief time left on the island. More beach time, more shopping, more sleeping and reading. After all, isn’t that what vacation is for?