Crisp leaves. Changing colors. Cooler temps. These things just don't appeal to me like they do to other people. I remember living in Connecticut and people raving about how great the foliage there was. Sure, there were about two weeks (if it didn't rain too much) of beautiful leaves.You know what happened after that? All the leaves fell off the trees, turned brown, and then it proceeded to be fucking freezing cold for the next six months.
Forgive my wretched mood. The beginning of September brings immense amounts of dread for this girl. It means weeks upon weeks of work travel, which unfailingly causes me to have a breakdown and to get sick. Every. Single. Year. I have done my very best to limit my travel, but there are a lot of trips I just can't avoid. The fall is when shit gets done, and I have to be there if I want to be part of the conversation, even if it's taking place in Colorado or Texas or New Jersey. Why everyone can't just move on down to North Carolina remains a mystery to me.
I fault my upbringing for this mostly. I lived in the same house from age 3 until I left for college. Since then I've practically moved every year, but I've never been good at having my routine interrupted. Also, my family didn't take many trips because we couldn't afford it. A vacation in our world was driving the hour and a half up to Beaufort, SC and staying in the Days Inn to watch my brother play in a soccer tournament. I did love the powdered donuts at the Shoney's breakfast buffet though. That was something at least. I realize that even those getaways were a luxury compared to most other people's lives, but they sure didn't adequately prepare me for a job of jet-setting.
I spent the weekend doing my best to get ready for this stretch of being gone. I did some shopping, stocked up on work essentials, paid my estimated taxes, took donations to Goodwill, and cleared out our junk drawer. I figured the more organized I feel now, the less anxious I will feel being away from home. In some ways, I think it had the opposite effect. I kept saying to myself, "This is the ONLY opportunity you have to do all of this shit!" It was motivating, but also anxiety-building. This morning I woke up with a knot in my stomach.
I know I can do this. I know it will be fine once I get going. The anticipation is always worse than the thing itself, right?
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Why Did I Return to Ohio?
Just over two years ago I wrote this post about meeting my future husband on a trip to visit my boss at the time up in Ohio. I remember that weekend as warm, sun-shiny, and exhilarating with all of that new romance in the air and inklings of a future together.
Fast forward to last week when we went back to visit them. As it turns out, Ohio ain't so great, y'all. Especially when it's pouring down rain and you're stuck at your in-laws' house where they insist on buying generic ketchup for their barbecue and keeping the thermostat at a steamy 78 degrees. Even visiting the place where we had our first kiss (their hot tub, classy right?) wasn't so great when good ole' Pops was there with us and the water wasn't all that hot. (What is up with their weird temperature issues?!)
Despite their uncomfortable (at least for us) parsimonious life-style choices, our time together was mostly positive. We timed it just right, arriving late on Wednesday and leaving at the crack of dawn on Saturday, thereby avoiding the "house-guests are like fish" situation of staying a third full day. Minus a few prying questions about our marriage and plans to have children, the highlight of the time was having deep conversations about our lives and what we are learning about ourselves through self-reflection. That probably sounds like a snooze-fest, but for us that is quite possibly the most fascinating way to spend time. I learned that my boss turned stepmother-in-law has been in therapy for months, working on her judgmental tendencies, and how that has improved their relationship.
At the end of the visit, I felt closer to my husband and appreciated him more, mostly because he is the only non-crazy person in his family. I have no idea how he managed this, but kudos to him!
Fast forward to last week when we went back to visit them. As it turns out, Ohio ain't so great, y'all. Especially when it's pouring down rain and you're stuck at your in-laws' house where they insist on buying generic ketchup for their barbecue and keeping the thermostat at a steamy 78 degrees. Even visiting the place where we had our first kiss (their hot tub, classy right?) wasn't so great when good ole' Pops was there with us and the water wasn't all that hot. (What is up with their weird temperature issues?!)
Despite their uncomfortable (at least for us) parsimonious life-style choices, our time together was mostly positive. We timed it just right, arriving late on Wednesday and leaving at the crack of dawn on Saturday, thereby avoiding the "house-guests are like fish" situation of staying a third full day. Minus a few prying questions about our marriage and plans to have children, the highlight of the time was having deep conversations about our lives and what we are learning about ourselves through self-reflection. That probably sounds like a snooze-fest, but for us that is quite possibly the most fascinating way to spend time. I learned that my boss turned stepmother-in-law has been in therapy for months, working on her judgmental tendencies, and how that has improved their relationship.
At the end of the visit, I felt closer to my husband and appreciated him more, mostly because he is the only non-crazy person in his family. I have no idea how he managed this, but kudos to him!
California Girls
Greetings, loved ones! From...Leisure World. I kid you not. I am staying in a place called Leisure World. Never heard of it? Neitther had I, mainly because my grandparents didn't live long enough to settle down in a place like this. But basically it's a massive complex for retirees that looks a little bit like army barracks.
Why am I staying here? Because I have an 84-year-young friend named Mary who A) insisted I come to California to speak at approximately 542 engagements over the course of five days and B) insisted I stay with her while I'm here. She also insisted that she drive me everywhere, which let me tell you has been an *experience.* I may have thought I was going to die at multiple times while driving on I-610 to Claremont.
When we stopped at a gas station on the way (not to get gas but because she ate cheese on her burger and well, it wasn't agreeing with her), I said to our other travel companion that I was terrified, especially when were driving 40 miles per hour when the speed limit was 70. But somehow we have gotten from point A to point B in one piece. So far.
Despite the excitement of highway driving with an elderly person, I am just tickled at how I've gotten to be friends with someone who is in her 80s. My grandparents died relatively young, so it's been awhile since I've gotten to talk to someone who remembers the Depression. And this woman is still kicking ass. She's involved in about every social justice movement you can imagine, and she's completely independent, albeit a scary driver. But, hey, there are scary drivers at every age, right? I'll forgive that one. I can only hope to be as agile and spunky as she is in another 50 years.
I have to say, this is one of my favorite things about my job. I've gotten to know people from so many different places, from so many different backgrounds, and really, they've become more than colleagues--they're actual friends that I get to visit and laugh with. So while I may still be struggling to find a network of folks in NC, I've got a helluva lot of friends all over the country. And that's a pretty awesome thing. It makes being away from Carolina Man just a smidge easier.
Why am I staying here? Because I have an 84-year-young friend named Mary who A) insisted I come to California to speak at approximately 542 engagements over the course of five days and B) insisted I stay with her while I'm here. She also insisted that she drive me everywhere, which let me tell you has been an *experience.* I may have thought I was going to die at multiple times while driving on I-610 to Claremont.
When we stopped at a gas station on the way (not to get gas but because she ate cheese on her burger and well, it wasn't agreeing with her), I said to our other travel companion that I was terrified, especially when were driving 40 miles per hour when the speed limit was 70. But somehow we have gotten from point A to point B in one piece. So far.
Despite the excitement of highway driving with an elderly person, I am just tickled at how I've gotten to be friends with someone who is in her 80s. My grandparents died relatively young, so it's been awhile since I've gotten to talk to someone who remembers the Depression. And this woman is still kicking ass. She's involved in about every social justice movement you can imagine, and she's completely independent, albeit a scary driver. But, hey, there are scary drivers at every age, right? I'll forgive that one. I can only hope to be as agile and spunky as she is in another 50 years.
I have to say, this is one of my favorite things about my job. I've gotten to know people from so many different places, from so many different backgrounds, and really, they've become more than colleagues--they're actual friends that I get to visit and laugh with. So while I may still be struggling to find a network of folks in NC, I've got a helluva lot of friends all over the country. And that's a pretty awesome thing. It makes being away from Carolina Man just a smidge easier.
We're Flying First Class
No, I'm not that Fergalicious. But I do fly a crazy amount for work, so much so that I'm now Silver Preferred on US Airways.
It's funny that free checked bags are a perk now. Remember when they were free for everyone? Well, now if I want to check something, I can do it for free. Just like five years ago. Even better, I get to board earlier, which means I won't have to check my bag because I'll get to stow my bag before all of the assholes with their giant-ass bags take up all the room. (I promise, I have a very small carry-on, and if we're on the same flight, I would be happy to assist you in shoving your oversized bag into the bin.)
But best of all? Complimentary upgrades! Just yesterday I got an email saying that I'd gotten upgraded to first class on my flight back from DC. I'm in seat 1A. 1A! The first seat on the plane! Perhaps I'm overly excited by this, but if you fly as much as I do, you'll understand that this is something worth celebrating.
Maybe this will make me hate US Airways a little bit less now for losing my bag every time I fly.
It's funny that free checked bags are a perk now. Remember when they were free for everyone? Well, now if I want to check something, I can do it for free. Just like five years ago. Even better, I get to board earlier, which means I won't have to check my bag because I'll get to stow my bag before all of the assholes with their giant-ass bags take up all the room. (I promise, I have a very small carry-on, and if we're on the same flight, I would be happy to assist you in shoving your oversized bag into the bin.)
But best of all? Complimentary upgrades! Just yesterday I got an email saying that I'd gotten upgraded to first class on my flight back from DC. I'm in seat 1A. 1A! The first seat on the plane! Perhaps I'm overly excited by this, but if you fly as much as I do, you'll understand that this is something worth celebrating.
Maybe this will make me hate US Airways a little bit less now for losing my bag every time I fly.
A Cure for the (nearly almost over) Holiday Blues
I'm not sure how it's possible that my favorite day of the year is during the absolute worst time of the year. Seriously, last night I fell asleep at 8 pm with the lights still on because apparently my body begins shutting down at promptly 5:45 pm when the sun has ditched us for the day. Bastard sun.
I have to face the fact that as much as I love "the holidays," they really consist of a bunch of normal days where it's cold and dark and there are no presents to be opened. And this year, a lot of "the holidays" will be spent driving up and down I-95. And then what's after the holidays? The most godawful months of the year: January, the absolute worst month of the year, followed by the runner up for "Worst Month of the Year," February.
Are you ready for me to STFU yet? I am. And what better way to STFU about the post-holiday blues than a trip to...
Playa del Carmen, Mexico!!!
Yep, Feb. 13-18th Carolina Man and I will be frying our skin and gorging ourselves on all-you-can-eat-and-drink buffets.
The best part is that summer clothes are SUPER ON SALE right now. Below are just a few items I've purchased this week, all for less than $225 total.
I have to face the fact that as much as I love "the holidays," they really consist of a bunch of normal days where it's cold and dark and there are no presents to be opened. And this year, a lot of "the holidays" will be spent driving up and down I-95. And then what's after the holidays? The most godawful months of the year: January, the absolute worst month of the year, followed by the runner up for "Worst Month of the Year," February.
Are you ready for me to STFU yet? I am. And what better way to STFU about the post-holiday blues than a trip to...
Playa del Carmen, Mexico!!!
Yep, Feb. 13-18th Carolina Man and I will be frying our skin and gorging ourselves on all-you-can-eat-and-drink buffets.
The best part is that summer clothes are SUPER ON SALE right now. Below are just a few items I've purchased this week, all for less than $225 total.
Meeting His Momma
Good thing I'm heading back to the airport today. It's been nearly two weeks since I've flown anywhere, and I was beginning to feel deprived.
But, this time it's not a work trip (yay). And, I won't be flying alone (double yay)! Carolina Man and I are heading to Alabama to spend the weekend with his mom and some of his other relatives. I haven't given the trip much thought. I've become entirely too lackadaisical about travel. If I let my usual type-A personality run amok when I was about to go somewhere, I'd never be able to accomplish anything else. For me, the thinking about a trip doesn't set in until I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to pack, which so far hasn't happened. I'm thinking I'll give myself an hour before we have to leave.
As much as Carolina Man has reassured me that his mom is thrilled to meet me, I can't help but feel somewhat anxious about it. You'll recall that I haven't exactly had the best of luck with significant others' mothers (especially when they are nosy, know-it-all bitches, not that I'm thinking of anyone in particular). And while I got along great with his dad and his brother, meeting the mom is always the scariest part about meeting someone's family.
So, I'm doing my best not to over-think it, to trust what CM has said--that his mom is laid back and easy to get along with. And I'll just do my best to be myself, flaws and all.
But, this time it's not a work trip (yay). And, I won't be flying alone (double yay)! Carolina Man and I are heading to Alabama to spend the weekend with his mom and some of his other relatives. I haven't given the trip much thought. I've become entirely too lackadaisical about travel. If I let my usual type-A personality run amok when I was about to go somewhere, I'd never be able to accomplish anything else. For me, the thinking about a trip doesn't set in until I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to pack, which so far hasn't happened. I'm thinking I'll give myself an hour before we have to leave.
As much as Carolina Man has reassured me that his mom is thrilled to meet me, I can't help but feel somewhat anxious about it. You'll recall that I haven't exactly had the best of luck with significant others' mothers (especially when they are nosy, know-it-all bitches, not that I'm thinking of anyone in particular). And while I got along great with his dad and his brother, meeting the mom is always the scariest part about meeting someone's family.
So, I'm doing my best not to over-think it, to trust what CM has said--that his mom is laid back and easy to get along with. And I'll just do my best to be myself, flaws and all.
Living Together Separately
I've got a list of blog topics all prepared in my head, and yet the break-neck speed of the last three weeks has kept me from doing much about it. Yesterday I left NC at 6 am for a day of meetings and catching up with DC blogger amigas Date Me, D.C.! (with whom I'd just spent an awesome weekend), Sassy Marmalade, Bless Your Heart, and A Single Girl before heading back to NC at 10 pm. This morning was basically the same, only this time Carolina Man was the one heading out of town. Bleary-eyed, we did the exact same early morning kiss good-bye we'd done yesterday.
A lot of people have asked me how it's going living here. I've said that it's going really well, which it is. But I also don't feel like I have of time under my belt to say with confidence that it's going as well as I feel like it is. This has been our timeline thus far:
Aug 20--Move Day
Aug 24-28--Work trip to Ohio
Aug 31--CM's dad and brother arrive
Sept 2-4--CM, dad, and brother go to beach
Sept 6--Dad, brother go home; I go to DC
Sept 7-8--CM goes to Philadelphia
In short, we have hardly spent any time together alone at our house. Nothing about my schedule has changed, and he's just as busy as I am. I'd mapped all of this out before I moved and said, "We need to realize that just because NC will my home base doesn't mean we'll be together all the time." It's been especially tough on me when CM is gone because I haven't exactly had much time to make friends, so I end up doing a lot solo, which is tough on an extrovert like me. I know I'll make friends--I always do. But living in a new place is tough, no matter how good the circumstances are. And it's been even tougher to have spent so much of the transition apart.
In making travel plans for work, I'd never really had to consider someone else. I was fine with booking trips back-to-back, running myself into the ground repeatedly, and taking a random day off in the middle of the week to catch up on sleep. But being in a relationship is different. I've got to become more discriminating when it comes to offering up my weekends because when we miss a weekend together, there's no time to be lazy and just enjoy each other's company.
So, I can't wait for this weekend when we'll both be here and can get some quality time together. We need it.
A lot of people have asked me how it's going living here. I've said that it's going really well, which it is. But I also don't feel like I have of time under my belt to say with confidence that it's going as well as I feel like it is. This has been our timeline thus far:
Aug 20--Move Day
Aug 24-28--Work trip to Ohio
Aug 31--CM's dad and brother arrive
Sept 2-4--CM, dad, and brother go to beach
Sept 6--Dad, brother go home; I go to DC
Sept 7-8--CM goes to Philadelphia
In short, we have hardly spent any time together alone at our house. Nothing about my schedule has changed, and he's just as busy as I am. I'd mapped all of this out before I moved and said, "We need to realize that just because NC will my home base doesn't mean we'll be together all the time." It's been especially tough on me when CM is gone because I haven't exactly had much time to make friends, so I end up doing a lot solo, which is tough on an extrovert like me. I know I'll make friends--I always do. But living in a new place is tough, no matter how good the circumstances are. And it's been even tougher to have spent so much of the transition apart.
In making travel plans for work, I'd never really had to consider someone else. I was fine with booking trips back-to-back, running myself into the ground repeatedly, and taking a random day off in the middle of the week to catch up on sleep. But being in a relationship is different. I've got to become more discriminating when it comes to offering up my weekends because when we miss a weekend together, there's no time to be lazy and just enjoy each other's company.
So, I can't wait for this weekend when we'll both be here and can get some quality time together. We need it.
I'm Going Home!
Home to Georgia. As Carolina Man pointed out, when I say "home" there are several different places I could mean:
- Georgia
- North Carolina
- DC
This time it's 1. I haven't been home to visit my mom, brother, and nephew since Christmas (!). Granted, they could come visit me if they wanted to (my mom has only been up here once since I moved to DC over two years ago), but I recognize I'm more accustomed to flying and don't have the space to accommodate guests right now (although that will change once I'm at home #2).
I spent the weekend getting as much packing and work done as I could, so I could enjoy the week away. I ended up only getting about five hours of not very restful sleep (dreams of getting shot in the head--lovely!) but I woke up feeling excited about having a week to relax and soak up the sun on Amelia Island, FL.
Then, when I get back, Carolina Man comes to DC, we pack up the car, and head to NC! I can't believe all of this is happening. And I can't wait.
Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Life is so good right now that I'm hesitant to complain about the sucky nature of this week. But, it was sucky. I was in the middle of nowhere Ohio for work with not a single person in my age group in sight. I slept in a dorm, ate crappy cafeteria food, and listened to boring lectures for six days. And, the whole trip started on a sour note when my flight was canceled and the airline lost my bag.
But, it's over! I am at the Dayton airport, waiting for a flight back to DC (please, God, let it be on time!) so that I can jump in the car and make the four-hour drive back to North Carolina. Carolina Man and I are heading to the beach tomorrow for a much needed getaway. He's promised to indulge and pamper me, complete with providing a bell I can ring at any time. I suspect there might even be a present waiting for me when I arrive late tonight.
All I want to do is get there. This has seriously been the longest week I've had in recent memory. It feels like time slowed to a halt as soon as I landed in Ohio. Even though I miss Carolina Man terribly when I'm in DC, the pace of life is so much faster there I don't feel it quite as much. But in the middle of nowhere Ohio? Torture.
I know I'm going to be tired on my drive, so I've been caffeinating myself as much as possible and have a playlist of Celine songs (hey, you gotta do what you gotta do) to belt out to to keep me alert. Oh, and we discovered a little app called HeyTell that's like voice instant messanger and is probably the best thing ever. Next to chocolate. And coffee. And actually being together in person. But still, it's really freaking awesome.
This last stretch of time is going to be painful. But when I get there and feel him next to me and get to fall asleep in our new bed, all the waiting will be forgotten. I can't wait.
But, it's over! I am at the Dayton airport, waiting for a flight back to DC (please, God, let it be on time!) so that I can jump in the car and make the four-hour drive back to North Carolina. Carolina Man and I are heading to the beach tomorrow for a much needed getaway. He's promised to indulge and pamper me, complete with providing a bell I can ring at any time. I suspect there might even be a present waiting for me when I arrive late tonight.
All I want to do is get there. This has seriously been the longest week I've had in recent memory. It feels like time slowed to a halt as soon as I landed in Ohio. Even though I miss Carolina Man terribly when I'm in DC, the pace of life is so much faster there I don't feel it quite as much. But in the middle of nowhere Ohio? Torture.
I know I'm going to be tired on my drive, so I've been caffeinating myself as much as possible and have a playlist of Celine songs (hey, you gotta do what you gotta do) to belt out to to keep me alert. Oh, and we discovered a little app called HeyTell that's like voice instant messanger and is probably the best thing ever. Next to chocolate. And coffee. And actually being together in person. But still, it's really freaking awesome.
This last stretch of time is going to be painful. But when I get there and feel him next to me and get to fall asleep in our new bed, all the waiting will be forgotten. I can't wait.
From a Distance
"I know we've only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days. And the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day, and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half. I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it. "
Hopefully you recognize the absurdity above as a quote from the 1979 Steve Martin classic The Jerk. It's become a frequent reference for Carolina Man and me. First, in a silly way, it encapsulates the feeling of having known each other longer much longer than we have in actuality. Second, it pokes fun at the anguish we feel in being apart, no matter how relatively short the time. It's tough for me even to consider this a real long-distance relationship when he's just a four-hour drive away, and we've already managed to see each other twice since our first weekend together in Ohio (and I'll be going back to North Carolina on Thursday night!) In the past I've done the long-distance thing over continents and time zones, but this feels different. I can't imagine getting used to being apart, nor do I want to get to that place.
Even with Skype and texting and email and cell phones, nothing comes close to being with someone in person. So much is lost when there's physical space separating you. Carolina Man brings up this distant feeling every now and then, and there's sadness that comes with it for both of us. That's especially true on a day like today, when he's having a lazy Sunday and I'm stuck in a tiny town in Ohio for work with nothing on my agenda today except perhaps a trip to the drugstore, only to alleviate some of the boredom. I think, "Why can't we just be together?" It feels like torture.
But it's almost a sweet torture, both the agonizing longing for him and the ecstatic feeling of relief when I do see him again. I can hardly remember my life before him now, what it was like for something or someone else to be filling up all the spaces he holds in my mind and heart. I love that I'm still amazed at what's happening, that we haven't yet settled into daily life with one another. I love that he's the first thought I have when I wake up and the last thought I have as I fall asleep. And I will continue to count the days until I see my love again.
Even with Skype and texting and email and cell phones, nothing comes close to being with someone in person. So much is lost when there's physical space separating you. Carolina Man brings up this distant feeling every now and then, and there's sadness that comes with it for both of us. That's especially true on a day like today, when he's having a lazy Sunday and I'm stuck in a tiny town in Ohio for work with nothing on my agenda today except perhaps a trip to the drugstore, only to alleviate some of the boredom. I think, "Why can't we just be together?" It feels like torture.
But it's almost a sweet torture, both the agonizing longing for him and the ecstatic feeling of relief when I do see him again. I can hardly remember my life before him now, what it was like for something or someone else to be filling up all the spaces he holds in my mind and heart. I love that I'm still amazed at what's happening, that we haven't yet settled into daily life with one another. I love that he's the first thought I have when I wake up and the last thought I have as I fall asleep. And I will continue to count the days until I see my love again.
Back to the Grind
I'm back at my own place, wishing I could still be with Carolina Man but thankful for the time we had together and that we'll see each other at the end of next week. (God bless my job flexibility.) I actually have to go on a work trip tomorrow, so I'm trying to think of it not as needing to return to DC but rather fulfilling my work obligations in the way I would have to no matter where I'm living.
I feel tired and overwhelmed by the return of the normal busyness of daily life. So often my life feels like an endless cycle of pulling dirty clothes out of a suitcase, washing them, and throwing them right back in for the next trip. They never even make it back into the closet! I kind of relate to George Clooney's character in Up in the Air, except I wouldn't go so far as to say I prefer to live on the road. It's more that I can understand the empty feeling of returning to a place that doesn't feel quite like home.
I said this in my post the other day, but I feel at home in North Carolina. And, I really felt at home with Carolina Man. He, just like his home, exudes a warmth, a sense of welcome. I never felt like I was intruding on his space because he never made me feel like I was.
Probably my favorite moments were when we went out shopping for a new king bed for his master bedroom--mattress, headboard/footboard, and bedding. We had a similar aesthetic and gravitated to the same things. Ultimately, it's his bed and I would have deferred to him if we disagreed, but we didn't. It was one of those practical things we were doing together as a couple, but it was strangely bonding. I texted my friend L, "We are shopping for furniture. I love dating a grown up!"
I love being in this honeymoon stage, knowing it won't last but soaking up every second. And I can't wait to fall asleep next to him again.
I feel tired and overwhelmed by the return of the normal busyness of daily life. So often my life feels like an endless cycle of pulling dirty clothes out of a suitcase, washing them, and throwing them right back in for the next trip. They never even make it back into the closet! I kind of relate to George Clooney's character in Up in the Air, except I wouldn't go so far as to say I prefer to live on the road. It's more that I can understand the empty feeling of returning to a place that doesn't feel quite like home.
I said this in my post the other day, but I feel at home in North Carolina. And, I really felt at home with Carolina Man. He, just like his home, exudes a warmth, a sense of welcome. I never felt like I was intruding on his space because he never made me feel like I was.
Probably my favorite moments were when we went out shopping for a new king bed for his master bedroom--mattress, headboard/footboard, and bedding. We had a similar aesthetic and gravitated to the same things. Ultimately, it's his bed and I would have deferred to him if we disagreed, but we didn't. It was one of those practical things we were doing together as a couple, but it was strangely bonding. I texted my friend L, "We are shopping for furniture. I love dating a grown up!"
I love being in this honeymoon stage, knowing it won't last but soaking up every second. And I can't wait to fall asleep next to him again.
Feels Like Home
As I crossed the North Carolina state line early yesterday morning, I instantly felt like I was home. There's something about this state that just makes my heart feel like singing. Ever since I started at Davidson College in 2001, I have felt a strong sense of belonging here. It holds so many special memories, not to mention special people, for me. I feel like I breathe more deeply here.
I felt a similar sense of peace when I was, strangely enough, in Malawi. I hadn't expected to go so far away from home only to experience a deeper sense of belonging and connection than I ever did in DC. One night our team was out eating dinner at a restaurant on the shores of Lake Malawi when I happened to look up into the night sky. I'd never seen anything so breathtaking--the stars so bright and dense. I've never looked at the sky the same way since I got back.
The moment I walked through the door when I got back to DC, I felt that sense of peace disintegrate. The influx of email and phone calls and conference calls overpowered my newly found quietness. "I've got to learn to replicate that sense of quiet," I thought. I began slowly to push out the noise--turning off my email indicator on my phone, putting the computer to sleep by 8 pm, not going to sleep with the TV on. But, I wanted more than just quiet. I wanted connection, community, family.
Being here in North Carolina with Carolina Man, in his beautiful house by the lake, I feel that sense of connection, that sense of peace I thought I'd have to travel to the other side of the world to feel again. I experience myself and the world around me differently here. It's something I think I'd like to get used to.
I felt a similar sense of peace when I was, strangely enough, in Malawi. I hadn't expected to go so far away from home only to experience a deeper sense of belonging and connection than I ever did in DC. One night our team was out eating dinner at a restaurant on the shores of Lake Malawi when I happened to look up into the night sky. I'd never seen anything so breathtaking--the stars so bright and dense. I've never looked at the sky the same way since I got back.
The moment I walked through the door when I got back to DC, I felt that sense of peace disintegrate. The influx of email and phone calls and conference calls overpowered my newly found quietness. "I've got to learn to replicate that sense of quiet," I thought. I began slowly to push out the noise--turning off my email indicator on my phone, putting the computer to sleep by 8 pm, not going to sleep with the TV on. But, I wanted more than just quiet. I wanted connection, community, family.
Being here in North Carolina with Carolina Man, in his beautiful house by the lake, I feel that sense of connection, that sense of peace I thought I'd have to travel to the other side of the world to feel again. I experience myself and the world around me differently here. It's something I think I'd like to get used to.
Too Excited to Sleep
It's not even 5 am, but I am dressed and ready to go to North Carolina! I'll be hanging with Carolina Man until Thursday. Can't wait to see him and spend more time together. Wish us luck!
Good Day Sunshine
Well, not in DC. It's rainy, gross, and not going to break 60 degrees today. But, I've still got a smile on my face because where I'm going on vacation on Friday, the forecast is this:
Have you ever seen more perfect weather? I can't wait to get my beach on with some of my favorite ladies in the world.
Wondering how classy of a place this is? It happens to be the home of...
That's right, a mullet throwing contest. Packing for this trip might be a challenge, seeing as how I'm lacking in jean cut-offs.
Flor-Bama, here we come!
Have you ever seen more perfect weather? I can't wait to get my beach on with some of my favorite ladies in the world.
Wondering how classy of a place this is? It happens to be the home of...
That's right, a mullet throwing contest. Packing for this trip might be a challenge, seeing as how I'm lacking in jean cut-offs.
Flor-Bama, here we come!
Jagged Little Pills
With just three weeks and a few days standing between me and my trip to Malawi, the preparations are in full swing. I spent nearly 2 hours on the phone with my boss this morning, planning our 3-hour seminar on health, healing, and wholeness for the community of Mzuzu. We'll be engaging local health advocates and of course, the attendees will drive the conversation. We're really just going to be there to help facilitate a conversation. But, what an opportunity.
I had a moral crisis about this trip a few weeks ago. I was standing in line at the Target pharmacy with a prescription for Malarone, a very good anti-malaria pill. My right arm was covered in bandages from injections--tetanus booster, Hepatitis A, and typhoid. The travel clinic didn't take insurance, so I'd put the $300 bill on my AmEx. The Malarone pills cost more than $100 for a 14-day supply. Again, I swiped the AmEx, and made sure to put the receipt in a safe place--not because I'd be filing an insurance claim, hoping I'd get some if back, but because my work would be reimbursing me in full. I'd simply code the injections and pills to my "travel account" on my next check requisition form.
When the pharmacist handed me the bottle of little white pills, it hit me: damn, that's some privilege there. Just a phone call to a doctor's office, a Metro ride, and an AmEx got me a prescription to prevent a disease that kills 2 people every minute. And even though I don't have to pay for it myself, I could if I needed to.
I'm still not quite sure what to do with this guilt. I know that not taking the pills does not do me--or anyone else for that matter--any good--no sense in me acquiring a disease and having to seek medical attention while I'm there. That's why I've been doing all of my routine check-ups and getting in good shape before I leave; I want to be completely and totally there to experience it all at my best. But, it's the fact that I have access to quality care and others do not that's got me in a metaphorical headlock.
So, let's do something. $10 buys a bed net to protect a family from the disease. You can go visit Imagine No Malaria to donate. I'm going there now.
I had a moral crisis about this trip a few weeks ago. I was standing in line at the Target pharmacy with a prescription for Malarone, a very good anti-malaria pill. My right arm was covered in bandages from injections--tetanus booster, Hepatitis A, and typhoid. The travel clinic didn't take insurance, so I'd put the $300 bill on my AmEx. The Malarone pills cost more than $100 for a 14-day supply. Again, I swiped the AmEx, and made sure to put the receipt in a safe place--not because I'd be filing an insurance claim, hoping I'd get some if back, but because my work would be reimbursing me in full. I'd simply code the injections and pills to my "travel account" on my next check requisition form.
When the pharmacist handed me the bottle of little white pills, it hit me: damn, that's some privilege there. Just a phone call to a doctor's office, a Metro ride, and an AmEx got me a prescription to prevent a disease that kills 2 people every minute. And even though I don't have to pay for it myself, I could if I needed to.
I'm still not quite sure what to do with this guilt. I know that not taking the pills does not do me--or anyone else for that matter--any good--no sense in me acquiring a disease and having to seek medical attention while I'm there. That's why I've been doing all of my routine check-ups and getting in good shape before I leave; I want to be completely and totally there to experience it all at my best. But, it's the fact that I have access to quality care and others do not that's got me in a metaphorical headlock.
So, let's do something. $10 buys a bed net to protect a family from the disease. You can go visit Imagine No Malaria to donate. I'm going there now.
Why I Feel REALLY Lucky to Have My Job
I got to sit inside the United Nations General Assembly yesterday for the Opening Ceremonies of the 55th Commission on the Status of Women.
Really, I've got nothing to complain about.
Really, I've got nothing to complain about.
Hurry Girl, It's Waiting There For You
Africa, that is. (Points if you got the somewhat altered Toto reference in the title!) Specifically Zimbabwe. Or Mozambique. Or Malawi. Or Kenya. Or some combination of these.
While my work focuses on international women's health, I haven't had the opportunity to travel outside the US since starting the project last January. I wouldn't consider myself that well-traveled anyway. I spent a semester studying in Italy and hit as many European highlights as I could, taking dirty Italian overnight trains to Paris, staying at sketchy hostels in Madrid and Barcelona, and toting a Jansport backpack all the way. I've been to Costa Rica on a legit mission type trip, and the Bahamas and St. Lucia for vacation. So really, Costa Rica is the only place I got any sense of the Global South, and among developing countries, it's pretty stable and relatively economically sound.
Since starting work on international health, I've felt a growing urgency to see more of the world, not as a tourist (although travel for pleasure is awesome) but to connect with grassroots health advocacy. It's not just a way to build some credibility in the work that I do, but also for me to see with my own eyes what the situation is like for folks on the ground, hear the stories, and work together with them as allies. And now, it's really going to happen!
I have two awesome opportunities, and I need to pick one and soon. Like, by the end of the week. Yikes!
The first is a 3-week trip to Zimbabwe, working on a mission team and doing some construction at a hospital. It's a little on the long side, and while I think it'd be personally enriching, I'm not sure it's the best fit for my work. I really want to talk with people one-on-one, and I think I'd be more in the background. On the flip side, it's in August which is a great time to travel since Congress is out of session.
The second would be a shorter, possibly two-country trip to Malawi and Mozambique. In Malawi, I'd get to visit some AIDS projects and in Mozambique, I'd be attending a multi-country conference on domestic violence. And, it would be right before some big trips I have in the US, which isn't great timing but it would also build my credibility before I go stand in front of groups, telling them why they should support international health efforts.
I've got a lot to think about. But whichever I choose, it's going to be an amazing experience!
While my work focuses on international women's health, I haven't had the opportunity to travel outside the US since starting the project last January. I wouldn't consider myself that well-traveled anyway. I spent a semester studying in Italy and hit as many European highlights as I could, taking dirty Italian overnight trains to Paris, staying at sketchy hostels in Madrid and Barcelona, and toting a Jansport backpack all the way. I've been to Costa Rica on a legit mission type trip, and the Bahamas and St. Lucia for vacation. So really, Costa Rica is the only place I got any sense of the Global South, and among developing countries, it's pretty stable and relatively economically sound.
Since starting work on international health, I've felt a growing urgency to see more of the world, not as a tourist (although travel for pleasure is awesome) but to connect with grassroots health advocacy. It's not just a way to build some credibility in the work that I do, but also for me to see with my own eyes what the situation is like for folks on the ground, hear the stories, and work together with them as allies. And now, it's really going to happen!
I have two awesome opportunities, and I need to pick one and soon. Like, by the end of the week. Yikes!
The first is a 3-week trip to Zimbabwe, working on a mission team and doing some construction at a hospital. It's a little on the long side, and while I think it'd be personally enriching, I'm not sure it's the best fit for my work. I really want to talk with people one-on-one, and I think I'd be more in the background. On the flip side, it's in August which is a great time to travel since Congress is out of session.
The second would be a shorter, possibly two-country trip to Malawi and Mozambique. In Malawi, I'd get to visit some AIDS projects and in Mozambique, I'd be attending a multi-country conference on domestic violence. And, it would be right before some big trips I have in the US, which isn't great timing but it would also build my credibility before I go stand in front of groups, telling them why they should support international health efforts.
I've got a lot to think about. But whichever I choose, it's going to be an amazing experience!
Don't Be Tardy for the Party
My bestie from childhood invited me to ring in the New Year in the ATL. Rather than dropping $100 on tickets to some overrated NYE party, we decided to get our club fix last night at Tongue and Groove in Buckhead. Turns out, we weren't the only ones with this bright idea and ended up waiting in line, shivering in the cold for a good half hour. Why they wouldn't just let everyone in, I don't know. Let's be real; this is Atlanta, not New York. The club was next to a damn Taco Mac and a Five Guys.
Once we finally got inside and avoided paying cover (thanks to a bartender who'd put our names on the list), we waded through the sea of peeps who were, despite rocking music, just standing there. No one except the scantily clad cage dancer was even doing so much as a fist pump. People were just milling around, overpriced drinks in hand, looking like middle schoolers at an overcrowded, smoky sock hop. My bestie, a light weight, and her friend did two shots in a row, so I figured someone ought to stay sober.
We managed to find a spot upstairs to dance. Naturally the douchebags began to pounce. My friend, newly single and a total hottie, was deservedly getting a lot of attention--just not from very nice dudes. My overprotective side came out when one persistent asshole kept grabbing her, even after I pulled her from him away three different times. I yelled in his ear, "She doesn't like you. Go away!" He grabbed her again, and that was it. I was PISSED. I pushed him off of her and shrieked, "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, ASSHOLE!" My bestie's friend turned to her and said, "I like her."
Eventually we found a better spot to dance. One stumbling drunk told me I look like the girl in the Bourne Identity. I told him I live in DC. He said, "Oh, so you must work for the government?" "No, actually I don't." "Good," he replied. "One less person to pay."
Being the sober one in a crowded, smoky club isn't the most fun thing in the world. But the other two were having such a good time that I just had to laugh and join them in dancing up on one of the stages. That's when I realized we were almost at eye level with the DJ, and I realized this was my chance to redeem the night. I was going to get this guy to play my favorite song. I started shouting, "Ceelo! Ceelo!" I made a pathetic attempt at sign language, forming a "C" then an "L" and then an "O" with my hands. He still didn't get it. So, I flicked him off with two hands and mouthed, "Fuck you!"
Hmm. Maybe should have thought that one through first. Quickly I shook my head and said, "No no no!" and did the pathetic sign language again. "Ceelo! Ceelo!" "One minute," he mouthed back. Song after song played, but no Ceelo. The music began winding down and they did a "practice" countdown for NYE. I thought all hope was gone...and then "Fuck you" came on. I started jumping up and down, both of my hands flicking the crowd off and acting a fool as I blew kisses to the DJ, my new best friend.
Who cares if I was sober, had to deal with asshole guys, and got cigarette smoke in my hair? I managed to get the DJ to play the best song of all time. I call that a good night.
Scared of Flights
Are you scared of flying? If not, you should be.
You all know how I feel about leaving Georgia to come back to DC. Nothing new about that. Even though I knew I'd be coming again in just a few short weeks, I cried per usual when my mom dropped me off at the airport. If the tears weren't torture enough, I had to go through the humiliation of the full-body scan (you know some guy is totally getting off on that shit) and a subsequent left thigh groping. There was no "patting down" going on. It was full-on leg assault. I thought the whole point of going through the body scanner was avoiding the groping? Apparently it was a double deal that day. Couple that with a two-hour delay due to "mechanical problems" and an assigned seat in the very last row and having water spilled all over me...well, I was a total peach, as I'm sure you can imagine.
But see, all of this is to be expected. Flying is a miserable thing we put ourselves through to see our loved ones. If I didn't get paid to do it most of the time, I would avoid flying at all costs. I do it enough to know that these annoyances are to be expected, and when you manage to avoid them, it's nothing short of miraculous.
What I wasn't prepared for was what when I landed. I was waiting to be picked up, so I picked a quiet spot to camp out in. I was busying myself with important tasks like Gchat when an airport employee walked up to me. The guy was probably in his 60s. Nice grandfather type, or so I thought.
"Are you waiting to be picked up?" he asked.
"Yes, just coming back from being home with my family," I answered, thinking he was just being friendly.
"Well, I figured it was that or you were sitting in the time out chair."
Hmm, ok. Kind of weird, but I get it--I'm sitting alone. Old men like to relate to young women as if they're children. Infuriating, but true. I sort of laughed it off, hoping he'd go away but he continued
"People my age don't know what you're talking about when you say 'time out chair.' In my day, we just got spanked," he said.
Hmm, this is taking a weird turn. I laughed it off, this time a bit more uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a new way of parenting for sure. Self-esteem and all that."
I really, really wanted him to fuck off. I wasn't even making eye contact at that point, trying to say, "Hey, get the hell away from me." But no, he continued. With more spanking talk. Like when he'd been spanked as a child--what the offenses were, etc. And then how he'd spanked his own children, like when his daughter had told her mother to shut up. This was an EXTENDED conversation--or, monologue I should say--and then it got even worse.
"If you'd done something like that, would you have been spanked?" he asked.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
"I was the sort of kid that hated getting in trouble. I never would have said that to my mom," I said. All true.
But he kept pushing the whole spanking thing. He found at least three ways to ask me about being spanked, each time I avoided the question. And in the end, I suppose frustrated with my evasion of the spanking talk, he just outright asked, "Were you spanked as a child?"
"Not really," I said, completely horrified and just wanting him to leave me alone. What I should have said was, "Look, you fucking sicko, this is NOT a normal conversation you have with a stranger. I'm sure you get off on this shit, so go post a craigslist ad or something, but leave me the fuck alone!"
Has the whole flying industry become sexualized? Anti-terrorism, my ass! That whole experience was completely terrorizing. Put this experience on the list of "why I want to live close to my family."
You all know how I feel about leaving Georgia to come back to DC. Nothing new about that. Even though I knew I'd be coming again in just a few short weeks, I cried per usual when my mom dropped me off at the airport. If the tears weren't torture enough, I had to go through the humiliation of the full-body scan (you know some guy is totally getting off on that shit) and a subsequent left thigh groping. There was no "patting down" going on. It was full-on leg assault. I thought the whole point of going through the body scanner was avoiding the groping? Apparently it was a double deal that day. Couple that with a two-hour delay due to "mechanical problems" and an assigned seat in the very last row and having water spilled all over me...well, I was a total peach, as I'm sure you can imagine.
But see, all of this is to be expected. Flying is a miserable thing we put ourselves through to see our loved ones. If I didn't get paid to do it most of the time, I would avoid flying at all costs. I do it enough to know that these annoyances are to be expected, and when you manage to avoid them, it's nothing short of miraculous.
What I wasn't prepared for was what when I landed. I was waiting to be picked up, so I picked a quiet spot to camp out in. I was busying myself with important tasks like Gchat when an airport employee walked up to me. The guy was probably in his 60s. Nice grandfather type, or so I thought.
"Are you waiting to be picked up?" he asked.
"Yes, just coming back from being home with my family," I answered, thinking he was just being friendly.
"Well, I figured it was that or you were sitting in the time out chair."
Hmm, ok. Kind of weird, but I get it--I'm sitting alone. Old men like to relate to young women as if they're children. Infuriating, but true. I sort of laughed it off, hoping he'd go away but he continued
"People my age don't know what you're talking about when you say 'time out chair.' In my day, we just got spanked," he said.
Hmm, this is taking a weird turn. I laughed it off, this time a bit more uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's a new way of parenting for sure. Self-esteem and all that."
I really, really wanted him to fuck off. I wasn't even making eye contact at that point, trying to say, "Hey, get the hell away from me." But no, he continued. With more spanking talk. Like when he'd been spanked as a child--what the offenses were, etc. And then how he'd spanked his own children, like when his daughter had told her mother to shut up. This was an EXTENDED conversation--or, monologue I should say--and then it got even worse.
"If you'd done something like that, would you have been spanked?" he asked.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
"I was the sort of kid that hated getting in trouble. I never would have said that to my mom," I said. All true.
But he kept pushing the whole spanking thing. He found at least three ways to ask me about being spanked, each time I avoided the question. And in the end, I suppose frustrated with my evasion of the spanking talk, he just outright asked, "Were you spanked as a child?"
"Not really," I said, completely horrified and just wanting him to leave me alone. What I should have said was, "Look, you fucking sicko, this is NOT a normal conversation you have with a stranger. I'm sure you get off on this shit, so go post a craigslist ad or something, but leave me the fuck alone!"
Has the whole flying industry become sexualized? Anti-terrorism, my ass! That whole experience was completely terrorizing. Put this experience on the list of "why I want to live close to my family."
Mile High Blogging
So, I really have nothing interesting to say (what's new, right?), but at this very moment, my mind is being blown. Why? Because my AirTran flight home has complimentary WiFi (thanks Google Chrome). And that means I can do things on the Internet while flying. Like blog. About nothing. *giggle*
So, my so-so date from Friday (who insisted on TALKING through Harry Potter! I know, I should've kicked him in the balls) has sent a follow up email. I'll write him back...eventually. He wasn't writing to ask for a second date. Instead he shared that he still isn't sure if he liked Harry Potter or not. (I know, another kick in the balls is due.) Interesting. Doesn't really make this HP aficionado want to write back.
But, in better news, I am currently heading home (On a flight! Right now! With Wifi!) for a week to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family for the first time since 2007! The last two years I've been at SCL's (one of the only good parts about this break-up is not being subjected to his parents on holidays), so I am really looking forward to warm temperatures (high of 77 today), cuddling with my Yorkie, and time away from DC.
I'll probably be blogging some this week, but I can almost guarantee that anything I post will be even less interesting than what I've written here.
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