Relaxing without shopping made for a memorable vacation

My husband and I have just returned from five glorious days of soaking in the Mexican sun. At the outset, the goal of our vacation was simple: do nothing. No meal planning or chasing dust bunnies. No worrying about the ketchup handprints on the back door or about getting everyone to bed at a decent hour. Nope. This vacation was intended for lounging by the pool, dangling toes in the water and walking on the beach.

We paid for a trip to an all-inclusive resort so that our expenses would be finite—no leaving in search of a restaurant or something to entertain us. Instead, we planned to settle in and enjoy the best our resort had to offer, which included nightly shows and such personal touches as a chocolate fountain with fruit skewers served in the lobby.

It didn’t take long, however, for our “do nothing” goal to be challenged. In fact, the moment we walked into the lobby, a handsome and plucky hotel concierge tried to arrange a special breakfast where we could learn about all the benefits of purchasing a resort membership. He plied us with offers of a couple’s massage and cold hard cash.

Not long after that, the travel company we used to book our vacation had arranged for a representative to meet us to schedule our return transfer. In truth, he was trying to sell us tour packages.

Add to this offers made to have our photograph taken with the Benito the monkey, with a pair of beautiful macaws and a long-tailed lizard. We could have bought silver jewelry from the young men walking up and down the beach, purchased a new swimsuit from a poolside kiosk or jumped on a nearby boat for a parasailing or snorkeling adventure.

Everywhere we went, someone, somewhere was trying to sell us something. In fact, if I had a dollar for every time my husband and I said “no thank you,” we probably could have paid for most of our trip. And though having Benito the monkey perch on top of my head for a photo wasn’t exactly a tempting prospect, I did find myself browsing the racks of swimsuits and cover-ups near the pool.

In the end, we resisted all the offers to go and do and buy, reminding ourselves that the goal of our vacation was simply to relax. Neither Benito nor a new swimsuit were ends to that goal. Our overarching vacation goal served as a slide rule, of sorts. It helped us to filter through all the messages we were getting and to stay focused on doing what we had set out to do.

Our experience in Mexico reminds me how essential goals are to all of life. They’re really the most effective way to ensure that you remain focused on doing and buying those things that bring you true satisfaction.

At home and virtually everywhere you go, some company or individual is trying to convince you to buy what they’re selling. The messages may be subtler than those of our hotel concierge, but they are present nevertheless.

Decide what you want. Put it in writing and use what you have written to guide all of your spending decisions. My husband and I don’t regret spending a single penny on our vacation, but we probably couldn’t say that if we were staring down a picture of us posing with Benito.

How to make the most of summer

Have you ever been in a crowded room when suddenly it’s as though everything stops as you hear someone say your name? Why does all the other noise wash over you, but your name is audible among the din of the crowd? It’s not just coincidence, but a highly specialized mechanism working in your brain.

At the base of your brain stem, you have a group of cells that sorts and evaluates incoming data. This control center is known as the reticular activating system, or RAS. Your RAS works like a filter, sending urgent information to the active part of your brain and sending the rest to your subconscious. My RAS allows my baby’s cries to rouse me from sleep, for example, but lets me block out other non-essential noises, such as a snoring basset hound.

You might think of your RAS as an executive assistant for your mind, determining which messages will receive your full attention and which you’ll ignore. On one hand, your RAS protects you, helping to prevent sensory overload. (I’d go nuts if I wasn’t able to tune out the dog’s snores.) But it can also keep you from paying attention to things that may be important to you, such as goals you want to achieve. Still, you can “retrain” your mind’s executive assistant by telling your brain precisely what you want to focus on.

This summer, my husband and I plan to “retrain” our brains with what I have dubbed “Our Summer Manifesto.” Too often, house and yard projects consume our money and our time; I want this year to be different. I want to be intentional with our resources and plan for fun so that summer doesn’t just slip away from us. By putting our summer goals in writing, we’re literally sending a message to ourselves that says, “Pay attention. This is important.”

Interestingly, the word manifesto comes from the Latin manifestus, which means “evident to the senses; apparent to the mind; easily apprehensible.” By definition, a manifesto will keep our summer goals at the forefront of our minds.

To make our manifesto more obvious, I wrote our summer ideas on poster board in large, colorful letters. Next to each item on our list, I drew a one- by one-inch square so that we have the joy of checking it off when we’ve completed it. When I tacked the finished chart up on the wall, everyone (even those who can’t read) buzzed with excitement. Amazingly, the majority of items on our list are simple pleasures that require more planning than money.

Our summer list includes making homemade fruit popsicles, water gun fights, grilling peaches, making homemade ice cream, sipping wine on the front porch, camping in the backyard, eating the zucchini before they’re the size of small children, building a chicken coop, bringing in fresh flowers from the garden, creating art outside with our children, inviting friends over to roast hot dogs and play bocce ball, and perfecting a grilled pizza.

We haven’t set dates for completing the items on our list, but this isn’t necessary because we’ve stimulated our RAS. When we see “eat zucchini” on the list as we go by the back door, we’ll be more inclined to pick the prolific vegetables when we are working in the garden. When I’m at the store and see peaches are on sale, I’ll remember that grilled fruit is on the manifesto, and I’ll buy them.

And, by summer’s end, my manifesto full of check marks will remind me of all the pleasures I took time to enjoy with family and friends.