Cary Grant and Quiche

Andrew's leaving me for a week. He doesn't travel often but over the next two weeks he has business in Seattle and Washington D.C. which means I'm doing the single mom thing. I don't like doing the single mom thing.

He's left plenty of times before but the difference is that in the past I've never wanted to go with him. For example, in summer he's gone to the Alagnak River in Katmai National Park. You're not familiar with the Alagnak? Well according to the men around here it's the Most Holy of Holy Fishing Spots where the men are men and the salmon lounge on the banks just waiting for the mighty hunters to arrive for the fight.

World class fishing, breathtaking scenery, even a bear or two thrown in for good measure. They stay at a place called the Katmai Lodge and Andrew's often asked me if I'd be interested in joining him there for three or four days.

He tells me how posh the lodge is, saying that I'd love it but whenever I quiz him on the accommodations they don't quite match my idea of luxury. For example, he raves about the food but really what this means is that there's merely lots of it. With men quantity is often mistaken for quality. If there's enough to make your gut ache, then who cares what it is.

Andrew loves it because the guides take them on the river and when it's time for lunch they whip up a fish, flapping and fresh, slit it open, pull out its guts, rinse the blood in the river and grill it up right there off the back of the boat on the guide's hibachi. My husband doesn't realize a woman isn't impressed by watching her dinner die.

He insists I'd love staying at the lodge and says each of the men get their own private room. Hmmm. Doesn’t sound so bad until you probe:

Me: So do they have king-sized beds in each room then?

Andrew: Well . . . no.

M: Oh, so you must have a queen.

A: Well . . . no.

M: A double?

A: Not exactly.

M: You’re kidding, you mean you get a twin bed?

A: Well, they aren't quite as big as a twin.

M: So what? Are we talking a cot or something?

A: Oh, it isn't a cot. Definitely not a cot. It isn’t a cot—it's a bed—just not as big as a twin.

M: Hmph. Sounds like a cot to me.

The important thing to remember here is that as long as Andrew’s in heaven all is well and when he's gone I can compensate by getting a real queen-sized bed to myself.

During these male-bonding fests I indulge myself in various ways. I make quiche (with plenty of mushrooms), watch Cary Grant movies, stay up late, wear less make-up (I say less because if I told you I don't wear any you'd be appalled) and sleep in the middle of the bed. It doesn't take the place of having my husband here but it helps.

The only problem is this time he's not going to a place where he needs to pack mosquito repellent and rain gear. He's heading south--south means warmth--and he's going to D.C. That's where we lived when we were first married. He'll see places full of memories and is even planning on eating at Continental Pizza and Subs the absolute, hands-down, most fabulous, tastiest, hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop we haunted in the evenings when we finished our daily commute. We dream about their steak and cheese sandwiches, there are none to compare. He'll be visiting my brother and sister-in-law and he'll be going out with old friends that traveled the east coast with us back when we were young and childless. Sigh.

Cary Grant and quiche isn't going to cut it this time. This is going to call for some serious indulgence.

Technorati Tags: travel, Washington D.C., Seattle, Katmai, Alagnak