One of the many beautiful things about vacation is the availability of fish tacos.  Well, I can’t actually speak for your vacation, but I specifically only plan mine in locations where there should, by all reasonable expectations, be an abundance of fish tacos.  Because I love them. Because they are magical.  And because typically the places that have fish tacos are also ocean-adjacent.

Today, on this first full day of vacation, it makes all the sense in the world that I would end up standing at the bar in a restaurant named Pinchers, waiting on a to-go order of said tacos. Blackened grouper for David; grilled grouper for me.  Grouper — apparently a local favorite.  So what the heck and when in Rome and all that.

Sidebar: grouper is perfectly fine on tacos but it’s still no mahi-mahi.

And as I was standing there waiting for what felt like an inordinately long time, I happened to glance back toward the kitchen.  Okay, I was probably trying to communicate my level of hunger and therefore desperation to anyone passing by who might have had the ability to speed my order along. But to make me sound less obsessive, let’s just say I happened to glance back.

There on the wall right where every passing employee could see was a poster proclaiming “The six P’s of Pinchers.”  Are you ready for this?

Prior Planning Permits Peak Performance at Pinchers.

I thought to myself — yep. Pinchers and I have this philosophy in common.  We’re planners, Pinchers and I.  I also thought “ok that’s a lot of P alliteration.”  Bit those six P’s posted prominently on the wall proclaim why I’m such an insistent planner pretty succinctly: it permits peak performance.

When you have as many balls in the air as I do on a regular basis – and seem to be constantly chucking another one up there – careful planning is the only road to success. And anything less than peak performance daily means everything will come tumbling down… no pressure or anything.

But vacation isn’t really about peak performance, is it?  It’s not about a carefully planned grocery list that keeps everyone fed healthfully for a week. Or prepping the coffee maker the night before so that I only have to hit the “on” button in the morning. Or managing which clothes are worn by which family member throughout the week so that the right clothes are still clean for the event at the end of the week.

No, vacation is about feeding your kids bread and butter for dinner because it keeps them quiet at the restaurant. And scavenging for bedtime milk in the gift shop. And putting swimmer diapers on baby because the regular diapers are gone.  Vacation is, at its most basic, a socially acceptable time to say fuck it — let the balls fall where they may. I prioritized two-for-one happy hour over buying diapers and now we don’t have any — so sue me.

I do on some level feel like I’m letting Pinchers down with this temporary shift in attitude.  I mean, there’s a poster on the wall and everything.  But as I sat on the balcony and ate my fish tacos, I comforted myself with the knowledge that there is always tomorrow, and surely I’ll work up the motivation to buy diapers then.