Week 6 Prompts (catching up)

28. A picture postcard view and you hate it, because postcards belong to anyone with the money to buy one. If the tourists ever got past the obvious, they'd see what you see....


I was fortunate to have grown up in Mt. Washington valley, I had the insiders knowledge that what you see in the valley isn't necessarily the best there is. Sure, beautiful views where ever you go, and over-advertised attractions, but what the tourists missed out on was far better than anything they got with their weekly condo rental.
Days of lazing about in the sun, splashing in refreshingly cool river water; this was my daily life in spring/summer/fall. Sure, the tourist traffic would hold us up trying to get where we were going, but while they were busy heading to the pools, we went to flat rocks.
You won't find it advertised anywhere. I grew up swimming there though.
Large beds of smooth flat rocks, with the cool Saco river flowing in-between and beside them, made for the perfect hot day spot. It had shallow pools, and deep ones, rapids and mini waterfalls, even a nature-made water-slide. There were endless smooth giant rocks to sunbathe and picnic on. During very early summer, thousands of butterflies would cover the rocks at the edge of the river, slowly fluttering their wings trying to cool off in the shade. You could walk right past them, leaving them undisturbed, or send them in to a frenzy, causing a swirl of colors.
While the tourists flocked to the over-crowded (by more tourists) pools and pay-to-enjoy lakes, we had a perfect, serene little getaway to ourselves. Few locals ever graced flat rocks, usually because even they were unaware of it's existence. Never once did I see a tourist there.




29. When you finally arrived, it was nothing like you imagined....


Over the phone, three words are uttered that had been on my mind for some time, "The Maine Jump."
Mark, one of the only parents from our kids school that felt we were worthy of interaction, had suggested a play-date for our kids with his daughter, Sophie. We were always happy to have play-dates, the kids just don't get to hang out with their peers enough as it is, so whenever possible, we make it happen. This time, as it was Superbowl weekend, Mark thought it would be a good opportunity to check The Maine Jump out.
When I had first heard about the place, I was skeptical about ever going there. The first mention I ever caught, was from my son, who came home excitedly rambling about how a boy in his class had gone to The Maine Jump, and had broken his arm there. How awesome is that, right?
Considering how rambunctious my son is (I don't need to worry nearly as much about the girl child, she is pretty ahead of the game), I feared the same (or worse) might befall him. But, over time, I had started to feel bad, as if I were depriving the kids of something. I got the routine, 'every one else goes there..' and it wore on me.
So, we gave thought to Marks suggestion. But, we opted to try for the weekend after Superbowl, because I had feared Superbowl would mean a bunch of bored housewives bringing their kids to the Jump while dad sat home drinking beer, yelling at the TV. Turns out I was wrong.
Mark had taken Sophie during the Superbowl, and had apparently had a great time. There were very few kids, it wasn't crowded or overwhelming, and was good enough that they both wanted to go again. So, we made the plans for the next weekend. Sunday nights after 5pm are half price, so we could have dinner, then go to the Jump AND save money! How many parents could be taking their kids to the Jump late Sunday night?
A whole hell of a lot.
We arrived to find barely any open parking spaces, and an excess of noise blaring from inside the building. Upon entering the building, the noise was 100 times louder, with some horrible Pop music (which seemed entirely inappropriate for young children) competing with hundreds of screaming children and yelling parents.
Jackets and shoes thrown carelessly aside, parents sitting everywhere, completely unaware of where their kids might be  in the massive crowd. Barely any room to even walk over to the counter and pay for admission. This place was the epitome of why I never took the kids to "kid places." There is even a setup in one corner of the building with wifi and outlets. I'm sure to some people, that might be a vital necessity to their existence, but come on. You are taking your kid somewhere, and you are going to sit in a corner with your back to everything going on, on the internet?? I disapprove.
We found Sophie sitting at a table, stuffing her face with some kind of ice cream pop that was smeared across her lips, and Mark standing in line at the "concession stand" to buy some cotton candy. They should advertise for this place with the tag line of, "Bring you kids! Stuff em' full of sweet and let them run around screaming and trampling everything like raging maniacs while YOU don't pay attention!" Seriously.
Once Sophie had her fill of sweets, we let the kids go off to explore and play. In new and strange places, I prefer to have a visual on my kids, but in this place it was impossible. Luckily, my sons cry and scream are something I can't mistake so I at least had them in hearing shot of me at all times.
We couldn't even find a place to sit. So, we stood, and chit-chatted while the kids had their fun. Oh, and fun was had. But, too much of it is never a good thing. By the time the kids emerged from the crowd, Juniors face was beet red, they all had sweat dripping from their foreheads, and they all had been trampled or injured in one form or another. Nothing too serious, thankfully.
The kids hit us up for quarters to play some arcade games that were nestled on the sidelines of the oversized blow-up bounce houses. Then they disappeared back into the crowd. Shortly after, closing time was creeping closer, so we tried to round them up. About half of the crowd had already made their departure, but there were still dozens of kids running and screaming everywhere. Mark attempted to gather the kids, and returned empty-handed. He couldn't find them.
The Maine Jump has a no shoe, socks required policy, and I had found myself wearing my lazy-day crocs with no socks. So, until this point I had stayed on the side lines. As we tried to decide what to do about getting the kids, I heard the trademark scream off in the distance. Junior was hurt.
I said screw it and made a bee-line through the bounce-houses towards the location of the screaming. I found Junior face down, bent and twisted, inside something resembling a trampoline on crack, with several kids bouncing around inside it, over him, on top of him, with absolutely no regard for the little human screaming in pain beneath their feet. Two employees, which I assume are there for "safety and supervision" were standing nearby, watching. This is how this place is run?
I promptly went over and yelled at the top of my lungs to the children bouncing inside. The two employees still just stood there. I got those kids to stop, and helped Junior exit safely. He was ever more red then earlier, had several scratches on his torso and back, and tears rolling down his sweaty cheeks. Once I had looked him over thoroughly, and calmed him down, the 2 employees walked up and asked if he were okay. 
"Does he LOOK okay?" I asked them.
They just stared at me as if I were insane and might have a bomb under my coat.
As I walked away with Junior, I called to Sophie and the girl child that it was time to go home. They grumbled, but followed unwillingly. Upon exiting the building, the "door greater?" told us to have a good evening and that she hoped we'd enjoyed our visit to the Jump.
No, I most certainly have not enjoyed this. I thought as I walked out the door.




27. The safest place in the world....


Long, stressful days always call for some "me time." Most days simply don't allow for that, but every once in a while I get to sneak it in. Over the years, the location and scenery has change, but my refuge, my retreat... my sanctuary has always been the same.
Always a small room; I've never had the luxury of it ever being very large. There is usually a small window, with poorly chosen glass that doesn't allow any real light to come in or a view of what lies outside beyond it. Various fixtures filling the room take up all the space, but they all have a purpose and usefulness. 
My current sanctuary is quite small, about the size of a kitchen pantry. There is one of those horrible little windows, it's glass looks like someone threw melted marbles at it and let it dry. Absolutely no visibility in or out. At least it opens. I've had a few that didn't even open. 
A pedestal sink takes up the right side, with a medicine cabinet and mirror above. The cabinet is rusted from age, and the mirror has been worn over the years as well. The toilet sits in the middle of the back wall, right under the window. It's newer than anything else in there. I should know, I bought and installed it a few years ago. On the left, taking up nearly half of the entire room is the tub.
It's nothing special. Just as old as the medicine cabinet and sink, the caulking around the edges is cracked and stained. It's small; even someone of average/short stature like myself can't stretch out in it. But, when I do get "me time," it is heaven, regardless of its age or size.
At the end of a long day, after getting home and taking care of every thing else that needs to be done in a day, when I finally get time to rejuvenate and relax, that tub (and all that I have previously lived with) is my savior. It's my safe place, my 'forget about it all and relax' sanctuary. 
With a turn of a knob, a warm whoosh of water will flow out, slowly filing the tub to the brim. As few and far between as my quality time in the sanctuary are, I plan ahead; keeping stashes of various bath products for such occasions. Vanilla is the best. Sprinkle in some vanilla salts, and let the aroma fill the tiny room. A splash of milk & honey bubble bath makes the perfect blend of bubbles and decadence. 
When I was younger and lived alone, all I needed was dimmed lights, maybe a candle, and I could relax and fall asleep for hours. The only interruption would be the water turning cold. Nowadays, An mp3 player and ear-buds let me drown out everything else happening in the house around me, as there never seems to be any quiet or alone in my day to day. These days, I don't get hours, but I do get a little time. And that's enough. Even just a short retreat to the sanctuary helps. It's comforting knowing, no matter where life takes me or where I go, my sanctuary will only be a closed door and some hot water away.