Resilience

My dad had a scary day yesterday. He contracted some strange virus and was hemorrhaging and had to get emergency surgery in a very weakened state. He made it through surgery and is recovering and all his vitals are looking good (knock on wood).

My dad is 70 years old. He’s a diabetic. He is missing his right leg below the knee due to diabetic complications and is blind – also due to diabetes. He had been suffering from flu like symptoms for the past month and was severely dehydrated and weak when he went into the hospital last Thursday. Needless to say, it’s amazing he made it through such a traumatic operation.

Due to the health conditions he’s had for the last few years, I’ve had myself in a sort of readied state, knowing That Phone Call could come at any time. I’ve been preparing myself for so long that I actually had this fear that when his time does come, I wouldn’t even cry because I had overprepared and already grieved.

But yesterday I got That Phone Call - well, a version of it - and my fears did not come true. Because I sobbed. I was so scared.

My dad is incredibly tough. The family has joked that, even with all of his health problems, he’s going to outlive us all. He once had an abscess on his jaw and instead of going to the doctor, he just cut it out himself. No numbing device - just sliced it out. Pain has never bothered him.

But still, things were pretty bleak yesterday and I know he’s tired. He’s been tired for a long time. His resilience is amazing.

I always feel like I’m a person who can handle death well. I’ve been around it so often. But after yesterday, I know that when my dad goes, I can only hope to be as resilient as him.

One of My Favorite Things

Two summers ago I was wondering the shoe aisle at Target and came across a pair of plain black flats for $12.99. I tried them on and they had this lovely surprise cushiony feel to them. I had been looking for plain black flats, as most flats I found were either shiny, bejeweled somehow, slightly not flat, or stiff, so I purchased them.

I wore them every day.

I’m not kidding. I wore them every day. Rain or shine.

The cushiony feel went away quite quickly, but they went with everything and were just so easy. By the end of the summer, my wide feet had poked a hole in the side of one of the shoes and I knew they would be no more. I said goodbye and tossed them.

The next spring I found myself, once again, wandering through Target’s shoe aisle (okay, I do this about once a week) and there they were: my shoes! They had come back! Of course, I bought them and wore them every day again. Except this time they wore out much faster. I ended up buying 3 different pairs over the course of the flat wearing season of Minnesota. And for $12.99 a pair, it was totally justifiable for something I wear all the time.

At the end of the season, once again, holes were in at least one of each of the pairs. I was mixing and matching them all season long, just trying to keep up. But, once again, I came out of the season flatless. I thought for sure those would be my last pair. Target (and most shoe retailers) usually don’t keep reproducing the same shoes over and over.

Flash forward to March 2011. There I was, as usual, wandering the Target shoe aisle. I turn the corner and what do I see? My flats! They were back again! Third year in a row. I was so happy. So I bought the first, of what I assume will be many, pair of flats of the season. Now, if the snow and cold would just all go away, I could wear them.

Recovery

My illness is waning. I’d say I’m at about 75%. Sometimes I hover around the 80%-85% mark and then I sneeze or sniffle and it shoots me right back down.

I’m doing everything I can to fight it. I have too much coming up to be sitting around sick. I spent the weekend either on the couch or in bed. I did not step outside once. I watched half of season 2 of The X-Files, all of season 9 of Seinfeld, The Lost Boys, Stand By Me, and Grumpy Old Men. I haven’t watched that much TV in years. I didn’t enjoy it. The programming was fine, I just couldn’t stand laying down and doing nothing all weekend. I like to go out. I like to be active and enjoying life. I was really looking forward to Saturday night sushi and music at the 331 Club, as I had originally planned, but I was stuck at home. If I didn’t have my show on Thursday to get myself well for, I probably would have dragged myself out. But I couldn’t risk making myself worse.

I ate soup and ice cream. I drank orange juice and tea. I took zicam after zicam. I am still taking zicam and drinking tea. I’m getting there.

I really just hate being sick.

Delusional

I’ve got an icky cold. It feels like it might be one that lingers. I’ve been home from work the past two days and finally made it back in today…barely. My head is just not here. I feel like I’ve barely lived these last couple of days. When you’re sick, or at least when I am, it feels like everything stops. There is no bigger waste of time than being sick.

I can’t do anything. I was home for two days. For two days I did not leave the house, and I did nothing. I didn’t clean. I didn’t get the piles of laundry done that I desperately need to do. I didn’t work on anything music related. I just lay on the couch – occasionally I sat at the computer – and watched episodes of Little House on the Prairie (finished season 3) and Weeds (finished season 6) - completely useless to the world and to myself.

The road to recovery has not been helped by the lack of sleep I’ve been enduring when every night this week, my dog has decided to get up repeatedly and wander the house. I’m not sure what’s wrong with him. He’s old. He hasn’t had any of his pain pills all week because, during the waking hours, he seems fine. But I think he might be hurting at night and just can’t lay down for that long. So, I’ll give him a pill for the next couple of nights and see if that helps.

But back to being sick…there is something about being ill that makes you feel like you’ve lost your mind, or at least I feel that way. Everything stops. You live in this weird little world where all you know is the sickness you feel in your head. I end up feeling bad for everything. For missing work, for not helping around the house, for being gross in all my sickness, but at the same time, I don’t care. Like I said, the world seems to stop for me and I don’t really believe things are going on as normal outside my den of sickness. My husband comes and goes. I speak to him briefly. He even brings me goodies to help me: Fritos, ice cream, soup, Sprite, Advil…but I just feel like our conversations are only happening in my head. I made the mistake of watching Inception again while I’m feeling this way and related to the feeling of delusion and a dream state a little too closely.

I have a show next Thursday that I’ve really been looking forward to. I would really like to get a practice session in before then, but I certainly can’t sing right now and my energy level is next to nothing. I can’t even think that I might not be better by Thursday. I will be performing no matter what, but it would be really nice to feel well while doing it.

To top all of this off, my dad is in the hospital. He’s been sick for about a month and my sister that he lives with finally brought him in. He has an infection in his colon. He’s lost over 25 pounds. He was severely dehydrated. I spoke to him yesterday and he sounded much better, but for a while there, I was certain that this was it and I’m really not sure how I would deal with that.

But for now, he’s being cared for and things look like they are getting better.

So, here I am, back at work. Sick.

It finally caught me. Now I’m the gross one sneezing and blowing my nose and infecting everything. I hate being that person. And, as usual, here’s the songs that are helping me get through the day:

1. “Oh, Sister” – Dan Bern
2. “Present/Infant” – Ani Difranco
3. “Josephine” – Tracy Bonham
4. “Alice Springs” – Liz Phair
5. “Hate” – Cat Power
6. “Five String Serenade” – Mazzy Star
7. “Erase Your Monkey” – Grickle Grass
8. “Rayner Park” – Rank Strangers
9. “Second Intermission” – Ani Difranco
10. “Everybody’s Baby” – Dan Bern
11. “Teeth” – Lisa Hannigan
12. “Feed the Tree” – Belly
13. “Liquid Diamonds” – Tori Amos
14. “Best Days” – Blur
15. “Fox and Hound” – Haley Bonar
16. “The Mess We’re In” – PJ Harvey
17. “Black Sand” – Jenny Lewis
18. “Jack Kramer Wood Racket” – Dan Bern
19. “City Middle” – The National
20. “Blue Light” – Mazzy Star
21. “Carbon Reactor” – Birds of Virginia
22. “Lord, Don’t Slow Me Down” – Oasis
23. “Made You Move” – Lykke Li
24. “Fuck and Run” – Liz Phair
25. “Black Gold” – Soul Asylum

Ladies represent! They’ve really come out to play today.

I Want to Have a Party

At some point over the weekend, something triggered a need to have a party. I have no idea why I suddenly want to have a party, but I do. I don’t know what would happen at this party. I don’t know who I would invite. But I want to have a party.

But, do I really? Parties are incredibly difficult. I mean, I’m past the age now where a party consists of a keg and my favorite CDs on shuffle in the CD player. If I were to have a party, I’d have to buy wine and bottled beer – and a variety of each. Red wines and whites. Dark beer, light beer. Water and soda for the non-drinkers. I would probably have to pick up some vodka or some sort of alcoholic mixer for the people who like those drinks.

And that’s just for drinks. When you go to parties with people my age, you have to have food. Not just chips and dip. You need cool finger foods that people can rave over. You need homemade guacamole and hummus. Fancy fruits and veggies. Dessert trays. Something no one has tried before. Planning the food is incredibly stressful.

But, let’s say you get all the food and beverages perfect. Then what? Will people even show up? You send out your Facebook invite to the selected guests and each day (okay, let’s be real, several times a day) you check to see who has accepted, who has maybe’d themselves, and who – gasp – has declined. You watch the declines double in numbers from the accepted. You fear that the people who you are still awaiting replies from will see these declines and think the party will suck. You wonder why they can’t just say whether or not they are coming because you need to make sure you have enough of those awesome foods and beverages. But, secretly, you also fear that they might all show up and that even though you want your party to be a success, you mistakenly couldn’t whittle the guest list down and you really don’t want 200 people at your house. Or do you?

Because, once these people show up at your house and you’ve handed them the drink of their choosing and they’ve sampled the food menu, what are they going to do?

Parties these days require some sort of theme – a purpose. The last party I threw was for my CD release. I had bands. The party had a reason to be. I don’t want to have bands at my new party. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that, but that’s a whole other logistical issue that I just don’t know if I want to deal with at this time. So what would we do? Stand around and talk to each other? That seems weird, doesn’t it? Why is that? What is so strange about a group of adults having drinks, eating foods, talking, and listening to the awesome playlist I spent weeks putting together for the party? Because, I would have to make an awesome playlist.

I’ve always entertained the idea of having a game night party. I know people have game nights all the time. But I wanted to have one that consisted of many games being played throughout the house. Trivial Pursuit in one area, Twister, Rock Band, cards in another. People would then have something to focus on. An icebreaker. I understand it’s awkward to go to a party that you might not know a lot of people and walk in and try to find a place to park yourself for the night. You only ever end up talking to the person you came there with. Mingling is impossible.

But, at the same time, forcing people to play games all night seems a little cruel. So then what? What would be the purpose – besides a group of people getting together in a non-bar and enjoying each other’s company?

This is the stress of a party and why I probably will not have one.

Songwriting

I've been having a good run with songwriting lately. When I finished the album last year, the writing well dried up, but it seems to be back. I have about 6 new songs emerging and forming and becoming what they are. It is such an incredibly exhilarating process. What starts out as just me sitting in my den plucking away randomly, absentmindedly on the guitar somehow turns into a song with lyrics and melodies and choruses and different parts and different instruments...well, I never used to understand how it was done, but now I see that it just is done.

I've been writing with someone else, as well. A drummer/lead guitar player. It adds a whole new dimension to the process that I never thought I'd be able to do. I hesitate to call myself a musician. I know nothing about music beyond the chords I'm playing. I don't know how they are supposed to progress. I don't know scales. Anything beyond the 5th fret is a guessing game for me. He knows this stuff and, in my opinion, adds a professional vibe to the songs that is very much needed.

I'm such a crazy huge fan of music, which is a weird thing to say, I think, but I'll say it anyway. I've always just listened to songs and sang along and loved them and it's so strange for me to be writing

my own songs. It changes the way I listen. I hear things in a different way. I notice the tiniest little additions - bells, echoes, random background noises - that I never paid attention to before. And all it does is make me want to write more.

Without trying to get too sappy and self-help-y, I'll just say this: If there is anything you want to do that you are, for whatever reason, not doing...Do It. This music thing has changed my life. Even if no one else listens. If no one comes to my shows*. If no one buys the album(s). It has made me so happy just to do it. I truly believe everyone needs some sort of creative outpouring to be truly happy in life. Whether that's music or writing or painting or woodwork or building or dancing or coloring in a coloring book...find what makes you happy and just do it.

*Okay, it is really nice when people come to my shows. So, you'll be there, right?

Cars Part 4: A Corsica For a Week

A while back I had started a series of posts about the various cars I’ve owned in my life. Thrilling topic, I know. I guess it’s more for me than anything. I forgot about the topic…until now. So here we go.

After my Mercury Tracer was towed away and left in an impound lot where I could not afford to get it out, I was left carless. I was unemployed at the time and living in the city, so I didn’t really need to get anywhere. But, still, I’d always had a car and the thought of not having one was very uncomfortable for me.

My sister had just bought a new car and had her old late 80s/early 90s Chevy Corsica just sitting at her house going unused, so she offered it to me. She told me that it had a few problems, but it should be enough to get me by.

As always, not the actual car. But it looked just like this...with a lot more rust.

I went to pick it up and opened the driver’s side door and a rush of oil stench came back to me. It was like someone poured oil all over the inside of the car. I sat in the driver’s seat and looked at the mess next to me: Piles of dust and dirt and scum sat on the dashboard. I couldn’t believe she had been driving this thing. But, beggars can’t be choosers and off I went.

My sister lives in the small town of Norwood Young America and I was living in Minneapolis at the time. This is about a 45 minute drive (I cannot remember how I even got out there to pick the car up). I was about 10 minutes from my home when the car stalled on me at a stop light. It had felt very untrusting as I was driving home, so I chose to stay off the freeway and took a back way into the city. I turned the key multiple times and finally it started up again. But for the rest of the way home, it stalled at every light.

I got home and looked at the monstrosity I had just driven home. It was covered in rust. The inside, as I said, smelled of oil and dust. And now there it was, sitting outside of my apartment, waiting for me to buy it insurance and gasoline. Waiting for me to replace whatever was causing it to stall. Did I really need a car?

I’m fairly certain I drove it for about a week. The smell was terrible and I always had to have the windows down. I was afraid to smoke in it as I feared the spark of the lighter flame would ignite whatever that oil smell was. Eventually I drove it back to Norwood Young America and gave it back to my sister, somehow got back home, and spent some time carless. I do not remember this carless time of my life. I am seriously straining to recall how I got around. I have no recollection.

Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago

During my recent travels, stuck on a plane for roughly 20 hours in all, I kept turning to Bon Iver’s 2007 debut album For Emma, Forever Ago.

Famously recorded by lead singer-songwriter, Justin Vernon, while spending 3 months alone in a remote cabin in northern Wisconsin, its generally claustrophobic feel was the perfect soundtrack to my time spent stuck on a plane.

I’ve only recently come to this album after purposely ignoring it for so long. I missed its original burst onto the scene, and when Bon Iver came to play our local rock festival, Rock the Garden, I opted to volunteer during their set, as I had no interest in seeing them. Everyone started raving about this album and it became so hyped that I lost all interest.

I love my acoustic, folky, singer-songwriters, but being that it’s a genre that is overrun with artists (including myself), I get bombarded with so many options that some people slip through the cracks. This was Bon Iver.

I was forced to purchase the song, “For Emma”, last year after joining a local all female choir group and this was one of the songs that was chosen to sing. It grew on me so quickly, that I ended up purchasing the entire album and kicking myself for not getting it long ago. I’m always so disappointed to discover music long after the fact and then knowing I could have been enjoying it for so much longer.

Since its discovery, it has not left my iPod and it was one of a small selection of albums I chose to take with me on my trip. And it was absolutely perfect to listen to while stuck on a plane.

The album has the eerie quality to immediately transfer you to some other place. When I listen to it, I can almost feel my thoughts begin to drift and suddenly I’m not paying attention to anything. Not even the song, really. Just sort of nothing. Completely lost in my own head. And then Justin Vernon’s voice will pick up and shake you back into reality and you start to listen. Or a lyric will burst out of the nonsense and you think, what the hell? Where did that come from? That’s brilliant.

It's also the perfect album to soundtrack a place or time. Now when I hear it, it takes me to being crammed in an airplane seat, desperately trying to fall asleep, stuck in a tiny space with no place to go, breathing stale air, air so dry that you feel like you're suffocating. And that may sound like a terrible thing for a great album to remind you of. But for me, it brings me to a very happy place. Because beneath all of that "misery", I was so incredibly happy. I was suffering in order to be able to do something I enjoy. And there's really nothing miserable about that at all. And I kind of feel like that is the whole spirit of the album. It is a sad album recorded in a very solitary way in a very solitary space, but the end result is so beautiful that it can only bring you joy.

Little House on the Praire: Now Seen Through the Eyes of an Adult

Little House on the Prairie is one of my favorite shows ever. I grew up on this show. I’ve seen every episode multiple times and can usually guess which episode it will be by the first scene and the music playing over it. As a little girl, I dreamed of wearing bonnets and running through endless fields and country sides with my faithful dog by my side. I wanted to write on slates and have my own horse. I thought Pa was the greatest man ever and that he could do no wrong.

I’ve recently begun to pick up the DVDs and have just started season 3. It has been different watching it straight through, from the beginning. Being that I was born in 1979 and the show aired from 1974-1982, I’ve only ever watched it in reruns -out of sync and whenever I could catch it on television.

There were a lot of things I never understood when I watched it growing up, major plot lines I missed. The biggest one was how Mr. Edwards suddenly had 3 children. I completely missed this as a child, a teen, and even recently in my adult life. I had no idea where John Jr. (and why he was called Jr. since Mr. Edwards’ first name is Isaiah), Carl, and Alicia came from. I think part of me thought it was one of those weird things they do in Soap Operas where they age some characters rapidly and others not at all. Like we were supposed to believe Isaiah and Grace were married and had 3 kids, the oldest being about 15 while everyone else stayed the same. Far fetched, but that was all I could think of.

(The answer to this puzzle is that John Jr., Carl, and Alicia’s parents died. Mr. Edwards and Grace took the children in to care for them while they tried to find someone to adopt them. Caring for the kids was the final push needed for Mr. Edwards to realize he loved Grace and marry her. They then adopted the kids.)

On that same subject, watching it from the beginning as an adult, has given me a new appreciation for the relationship between Isaiah Edwards and the widow Grace. Their courtship was real. They were very “adult”. Late night talking sessions at Grace’s home, quick kisses snuck in the post office, there was something very modern about their relationship that I really took to. I would watch a show all about them. And, despite the problems they both experienced in their lives in the past, they really seemed to have their shit together. They were able to take on 3 children like it was nothing. Grace had a nice home for them all to live in. I know things don’t exactly go well for them, but for now, things seem very good. Unlike the Ingalls.

This is where things have really changed for me. The Ingalls really aren’t that great of a family and Pa is really kind of a deadbeat.

I know he seems to try hard and everyone in the family is always pulling together to get through yet another crisis caused by Pa’s poor decision making. But, that’s just it; most of their problems stem directly from Pa’s poor planning. The only other thing that seems to cause them problems is some horrific natural disaster that only ever affects the Ingalls. Everyone else seems to pull through, but the Ingalls are usually stuck with nothing but their prayers and the kindness of the community to help them get by.

I understand the whole point of this show is to love thy neighbor and god and that if everyone just has faith, everything will work out. But did faith ever really work out for the Ingalls? Not really. They never really get out of poverty. Pa usually had to run off to some incredibly dangerous far away side job to make it through winter after his crop failed yet again. Maybe farming just wasn’t his strength.

He’s constantly putting his friend, Nels Oelson in a tough spot, by only buying things from the mercantile on credit and asking for an extension on paying the bill. This causes strife in the marriage of Nels and Harriet Oelson. Nels wants to be a good friend and let it go, but Harriet is a good business woman and knows they can’t continue to let people extend their credit lines and pay bills with chickens and eggs. Yes, Harriet is a shrew, but you can’t blame her for wanting them to pay their bill. She has her own bills to pay.

In one episode, Caroline (Ma) is infuriated because Harriet denies her request to purchasing something on credit. Charles (Pa) goes down there to straighten things out, but Harriet wouldn’t budge. This makes Charles and Caroline so furious that they storm out in a rage and then continue to bad mouth Harriet for not being a good Christian neighbor. The woman has bills to pay!

Charles is always trying to get something for free. Unfortunately, people keep helping him out because he is such a “good man” that he never learns his lesson.

When he does actually attempt to get ahead, he then doesn’t get what he should for the job. In the last episode I watched, he bargains with a woman to refinish her dining room in exchange for her old China, as a gift for Caroline. The woman says that the job is worth more for that, and as rich and as nice as she is, she probably would have paid him an additional fee on top of the dishes, but he says that the dishes are enough. Not thinking ahead. The additional fee probably would have come in handy when, just a couple of episodes later, a tornado rips through Walnut Grove effectively destroying Charles’s crop, and only his crop.

I feel bad for ripping on the Ingalls, but it’s hard not to when from Charles all the way down to Carrie, they really don’t put much back into society considering all they ask for in return.

He throws a fit when his property taxes are raised because they are building new roads in the county. Roads that just before he got that bill, he was thrilled about because it would give more business to Hansen’s Mill, thus putting more money into Charles’s pocket. I mean, it’s common sense, Charles. Somebody has to pay for those new shiny roads. It takes a poor Russian immigrant to set Charles straight.

Speaking of Hansen, did you ever notice the awesome friendship between Hansen and Doc Baker? I never even realized Hansen was such an important person on the show. He’s in every episode. He’s funny. Put him with Doc Baker and the two are a riot. An excellent comedic duo, for real. I would watch a Doc Baker/Mr. Hansen spin off.

In the end, I still love the show, mainly for the nostalgia factor. All of the god talk and “just have faith” talk gets quite grating after a while. Though Harriet, Nellie, and Willie are not very nice people, I find myself understanding more and more why they act the way they do. Because, really, often times Laura starts it.

One other thing of note, Mary Ingalls is very scary. I don’t know if it’s just because her eyes are so ridiculously blue, but she’s always just staring all vacant like. Like she’s having some sort of freakish psychotic fantasy and could snap at any moment. Or maybe it’s just because Melissa Sue Anderson is a terrible actress.

And don’t get me started on Carrie Ingalls. There is definitely something wrong with that child. I look forward to her falling in the well (only a few more episodes to go before that happens).

Dan Bern...and Me

If you've not heard of Dan Bern, then you really should. He's an amazing folk singer full of insight and humor. Sometimes his songs break your heart. Other times they'll have you keeled over from laughter. He can write a song about anything (last night he sang a song about fried chicken on a dare) and he can write them well. He's a fantastic performer. Needless to say, I'm a fan.

Through a series of correspondences, I managed to get in contact with Mr. Bern. He offered me a challenge: Learn a song written before 1960 and I could perform it on stage when he played in Minneapolis. So I did. And he honored his end of the bargain.

So last night, during his second encore, he unplugged himself and stood at the front of the stage and asked the crowd to come in close. He then played a couple more of his songs completely acoustic (including a newer one "Osama in Obamaland" that is so very good) and then he told the story of the challenge he gave me and then he introduced me.

My nerves were through the roof. I wasn't worried about the performing, but he had just put on quite a show and the crowd was loving him. Then here I am, some girl no one's heard of, coming up on stage to sing some song they possibly didn't know. But, the crowd was awesome. They cheered. They made me feel very welcome. And I sang the song I chose for the challenge: A slowed down - folked up version of "Johnny B. Goode" (written in 1958). I asked everyone to sing along if they knew the words, and they did. I know I didn't write the song, but having everyone sing along was one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced.

When I finished, I began to walk off the stage, but Dan told me to stay there and asked me to join him on a song. He started to play "I'm So Lonesome, I Could Cry". I couldn't hear him very well at first and my mind was racing with excitement, so it took me a minute to figure out what we were singing - and then I couldn't remember the words. But, once again, the crowd was amazing and cheered along the experiment.

I honestly don't know how to express the amount of enjoyment I felt last night. I also cannot thank Dan Bern enough for allowing me, some random girl, to get up on his stage and sing a song of my own choosing. He didn't even know what I was going to play. I could have been a complete disaster. I like to think I wasn't.

I've been a huge Dan Bern fan for years now and last night just solidified his spot in my top ten list of musicians I admire.

So, thank you, Dan Bern, for giving me a moment I will never forget.

Japan

I had planned to write a post today about the difference in viewing Little House on the Prairie as an adult versus as a child, but the news of the earthquake and tsunami that have hit Japan and other Pacific coastal regions has left me feeling numb – and not in the mood to write a quirky post about the Ingalls’ clan. That will have to wait.

The video footage of the tsunami that I have been viewing today is unreal. I have never seen anything like it and my mind cannot even begin to wrap around what is going on in the minds of the people of Japan who are seeing it up close.

My heart goes out to you all.

London and Paris

I want to tell you about my trip to London and Paris last weekend. I want to tell you. But I just can’t find the words. I don’t know how to describe the sheer joy of walking those London streets and seeing things, in person, that I never thought I would see. Walking on the famous Abbey Road crosswalk, as toursity as it is, is something I never imagined that I would ever be able to do. I had always dreamed of visiting London, visiting anywhere overseas, but London in particular. I thought my fear of flying would stop me from ever doing it. But, what I’ve learned with the last few flights I’ve taken is that I’m really not scared of flying at all. And 8 hours on a plane wasn’t all that bad.

I also never thought I would visit London because travelling is not something I really do. I never travelled as a kid. I never went to Disney World or the Grand Canyon. I barely left the county. The idea of going somewhere so far away just seemed like a pipe dream. But there I was, in London. It was amazing. And I thank my husband for that. Without him, I probably never would have gone. Thank you for helping to make this happen.

We saw The Thames, The Eye of London, Buckingham Palace, 221b Baker Street, Lord’s Cricket Grounds, Abbey Road, Regent’s Park, The National Gallery, Emirates Stadium, The Dublin Castle, and that was just London. In our 22 hours in Paris we saw the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower.

I fell in love with London. I would move there in a second. I loved taking the tube everywhere. I loved ordering a pint and getting things to “take away” versus “to go”. I loved how every corner had something super cool to see. I loved how it was so green in March. I loved the red phone booths everywhere. I loved the cool looking taxi cabs. I loved the traffic. I loved the architecture. I loved how every neighborhood had something to offer. I loved paying for things with pounds and pence. I loved the accents. I loved the slang. I loved the people. Everyone was so incredibly friendly. I loved London.

I want to go back.

Paris, on the otherhand, was cool for the moment you realized you were in Paris. When you looked to your right and could see the top of the Eiffel Tower peaking over the buildings. But, I did not fall in love with Paris. Far from it. It’s hard to complain about a city like Paris. I mean, it’s Paris. To say “I didn’t care for Paris” makes you sound like a pretentious snit. But, well, I didn’t care for Paris. The architecture was cool, but every building looked the same, so it wore off after a while. The Eiffel Tower, though awesome to see in person, was very Disneyland-like. A lot of long lines and concession stands. The inner streets and alleys offered the most interest, but it was easy to get turned around and we had so little time and had been walking for days already, that further exploration was not going to happen.

I think my time in Paris suffered from the very American-ized area we were staying in. All McDonalds and fancy restaurants. My goal in Paris was to stop at every deli to sample cheese, bread, chocolate, and every Pub/Café to try some wine. And to see Moulin Rouge. I did neither of those things. I had no cheese, bead, chocolate, or wine. In Paris. I couldn’t find any. In Paris. Very odd.

But, still, I was in Paris. And just that thought alone blows my mind.

I need to plan my next travel adventure. I need to see more of this world. I want to know if like a place like Barcelona or if I prefer Buenos Aires.

And I want to go back to London. Badly.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: I did not meet Noel Gallagher as planned. But one of my favorite moments from the adventure was sitting in the Roundhouse Pub in Covent Garden, having a pint, and “Don’t Look Back in Anger” started playing. Total happiness.

Tonight!

This is it! We leave in 13.5 hours. My mind is long gone. I can’t think. My chest feels like it’s going to explode. My body is doing all sorts of weird stress things….and I still have to get through a full work day!

By this time tomorrow I will be in London. I should be at my hotel, checking in…soaking it all in. I packed last night and way overdid it. I brought every outfit I ever wear. Choosing my airplane outfit was the most difficult. I like to look nice on a plane, but I also have to sleep in this outfit and then look fabulous walking through Heathrow after 8 hours on a plane. But, I think I found something. Well, it will have to be it because it’s too late to change it now.

Both my husband and I feel pretty good – amazingly so. I honestly cannot believe the amount of stress this trip has caused me. It probably didn’t have to, but it’s just the way I’m wired. I was telling my husband this morning that I think my mind has found all of these crazy things to freak out about to cover up the real fear I have which is getting on that plane. I’m not all that scared of flying, but I’ve never been in a plane this long before. It will certainly be a test for me.

8 hours until the work day is over.

11 hours until we get to the airport.

13.5 hours until the plane takes off.

21.5 hours until I’m in London.

1 Day...

I honestly feel like I’m never going to get to London. I feel like each day there is some obstacle in my way that could derail the whole trip. I had a medical issue that came up last night and, hopefully, the meds I’m taking now will take care of it. I don’t want to deal with foreign hospitals.

There are less than 33 hours to go before the plane takes off. Unfortunately, I have to get through one more full work day tomorrow before vacation officially begins. It feels like an eternity and I just keep waiting for what will go wrong next. I just want to get to the airport, go through security, get my airport pizza (best pizza ever), buy 10 magazines for the flight, have a beer or two and get on that plane and get in the air. Why can’t it be that time yet????

Moving on...

I bought the latest PJ Harvey album and I am super excited to listen to it on the plane ride over. Here is a song from that album. I highly recommend it.