Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I have the feeling I’m in for a bumpy ride the next few months. And it’s all because my beloved, Earl, is eagerly planning our summer ’06 vacation.

Earl has said on more than one occasion that when I plan our vacations all he has to do is show up. I plan the itinerary, I book the airline tickets, I even dig out our passports and vaccination papers, when needed. He simply packs his bag.

However, our roles are supposedly reversed for the Canadian fly-in fishing lodge vacation for next summer. He’s the designated planner, while I’m merely the companion. He’ll tell me when to pack my bag. (In fact, Earl’s been talking about this trip in the abstract since I’ve known him. Now we’re at the reality point.)

I’ve agreed to go north of the tree line in Canada, either in Manitoba or Saskatchewan, so that Earl can fish five days with a guide. I’ve also agreed to go fishing one of those days, but plan to read, relax, crochet, sleep, and generally hibernate the other four. And this is where the bumpy ride comes in.

Already Earl is studying web sites of various lodges, and I have no problem with this. But he wants me to come running and see every picture, every price range, every bed configuration. It’s probably because he wants to make sure I have a great time. I’m sort of interested, but not that much. Rather, I want it to be the way it is when I plan our vacations. I just want to show up and be pleasantly surprised.

So how do I explain that I don’t want to be involved in the choosing and planning when Earl’s enthusiasm runs so high? How do I let him know that whatever he picks will be the perfect choice and that I’m gearing up for a great fishing adventure. I just don’t want to massage it between now and then.

Maybe if he reads my blog he’ll understand.