Tomorrow Is Another Day...

I Have Got to Get My Hands on Some Ambien

Okay, I'm going to go with the bullet format that has been so popular with the bloggers lately since I have a number of topics to cover and no witty segues at my disposal.

• So, has anyone else, firmly in the grips of delirium brought on by insomnia, decided at 1:30 in the morning that they would give themselves a fabulous Reese Witherspoon haircut?
  
  I'm just wondering, because I'm thinking of forming a support group: People Who Just Can't Put the Scissors Down.  I like to think that because I watch a lot of makeover shows, I have a clue what I'm doing when it comes to my own hair.  Unfortunately my early morning attempts ended up looking more like this:
  
  At this point all I can do is tug on my hair constantly in an effort to speed the growing process and then get myself to a trained professional for damage control in a couple of weeks.  I think I need a babysitter when Colby is gone.
• Speaking of Colby, (Hey, look, a segue!  That was unexpected!) I've always thought my little charmer was pretty great in the romance department.  He's very good about sending beautiful flowers when I'm least expecting it, making choices that quite often stray outside of the safe, yet somewhat boring, dozen red roses comfort zone.  He calls as often as he possibly can when he's away.  He surprises me with mushy comments when I really need to hear them and little presents from time to time, and his birthday and Christmas presents are always a big hit.  But then last night we had this conversation, and I was forced to question all of my previously held beliefs about his romantic tendencies:
  Colby: "So, I was talking to Richard, and he has one of those Garmin GPS things that you've been talking about getting."
  Me: "Oh, yeah, I think that's the one that Lori sent me a link to.  So, does this mean you're finally coming around?"
  "Well, I was thinking, if we can find one that works outdoors for hiking as well, maybe we can go ahead and get it for each other's birthdays."
  Silence.
  "For our birthdays?"
  "Well, yeah.  I mean, you've been talking about wanting one forever and I thought it would be good..."
  "For our birthdays?"
  "I thought you wanted one!  You've been talking about it for months!"
  "Well, I do want one.  But not for my birthday.  That's a terrible birthday gift!  You're supposed to get fun things that you wouldn't buy for yourself for your birthday!"
  "I'm so confused."
  "Have you ever seen Father of the Bride?  When she calls off the wedding because her fiance gets her--"
  "Are you comparing this to the blender???"
  "Well... yes."
  "But this is completely different, you want a GPS!"
  "Well, I'm sure she wanted a blender, but not as a wedding present from her future husband!"
  "I don't understand you at all."
  "Yes, you have a lot to learn."
• And now, for the biggest news of all:  I am officially going to be a published and paid author.  And I don't mean published like I'm about to hit "publish now" and then go eat a sandwich as a reward for actually posting a blog, but published like a group of people read something I wrote, said to themselves, "This isn't half bad," and subsequently sent me this email:
  
  "Congratulations on winning Second Place for your story "Working Title". Fog City Writers would like to recognize your work with a check for $X and publication in our 2007 Fog City Review.  In addition, can you please provide us with a soft copy in MS Word or WordPerfect so that we may post the story on our website.  Once again congratulations."
  
  I also received an Honorable Mention for the same story, for which I win nothing other than the comforting knowledge that at least one other person sucked more than I did, in the New Millenium Award for Fiction.  These being the first real literary contests I've ever entered, I am officially in a state of shock, and completely convinced that I have hit my peak at the age of 24 and will never write anything of comparable quality or consequence again in my life.  However, hopefully the publishing credit this provides me will help me find an agent someday and get some terrible drivel published about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness in a pair of great shoes.

Good Thing I'm Not the Type To Say "I Told You So"

I can't tell you what a relief it is to me to finally have a security system installed in our house.  I think I've mentioned before about what a terrible 'fraidy cat I am when it comes to being in the house alone, and it feels so great to see that red light glowing from the alarm panel every night when I make my way upstairs for bed.  At long last I can go to sleep without worrying that the guy who likes to fire off a shotgun somewhere in the vicinity of our neighborhood is going to pay me a call in the middle of the night, and I walk around the house with my panic button grasped firmly in my sweaty little hands lest the boogy man burst out from under my bed and try to drag me to Boogy Land.  Which, upon reflection, kind of sounds like fun--like they might serve jello shots there and do limbo competitions.  How low can you go?

I think my marginally rational fear of having the house broken into stems from an experience we had in Baton Rouge when I was a junior at LSU.  That was the year of the serial killer hysteria.  It's hard to describe the attitude of the city and the campus when it finally came to light that a long string of murders were being linked to one person, we had seen serial killers on the television and in movies, but to think that there could actually be someone in our midst, committing these terrible crimes, it was unthinkable, unimaginable, terrifying.  The fear began to hit close to home when not only were the murders all linked to one man, but also one place--LSU.  It seemed that the one common link all of the victims had was the campus, and word began to spread that the victims were picked at LSU, stalked, and then murdered in the place they felt safest, their homes.

Everyone was a suspect.  The primary profile for a serial killer had always been white male, probably in his 30s, very charming.  Now, anytime someone spoke to a woman on campus, drove a large white pickup or a paneled van, he could expect to be a person of suspicion.  But then the tables turned--maybe it wasn't a white male, there was high probability that the killer was either hispanic or African American, but no one could be sure.  A black man had been spotted outside the home of one of the victims on the day of her murdered, but discounted because he didn't fit the profile, since then more women had lost their lives.

Women were told to lock their doors and windows, sleep with a weapon of some sort nearby, never open the door if you were alone, if we had night classes (which I did) never walk back to your dorm or apartment and always travel in pairs or groups.  Suddenly policemen were everywhere on campus, lighting was being increased, security cameras installed.  I was afraid of everyone, I would pump gas near campus and then watch to make sure no one followed me out of the gas station, I would walk to the student union to meet friends for dinner and found it hard to meet anyone's eyes in case they were the killer and would develop an interest in me. 

That semester, I worked for a crisis center hotline, and often it was necessary to stay until after midnight to complete your shift or phone call.  I remember one night, I arrived back on campus very late and had plans to stop by Colby's apartment on my way to my dorm room.   Like most campuses, LSU parking was hard to come by and when I found a spot across the bridge, about a quarter of a mile from his building I took it.   As I began the walk, it started to drizzle and I realized I'd left my umbrella in my room, just then a tall handsome man appeared from a row of cars with an umbrella.  In what would normally be a chivalrous gesture, he struck up a conversation and offered his umbrella.  I had no idea what to do.  Of course I was utterly terrified of him, and was torn between running and screaming like an idiot from a boy who was more than likely just a friendly fellow student with an umbrella, or playing nice, with my hand firmly wrapped around my mace and possibly ending up in tomorrow's headlines.  I think I must have mentioned about four thousand times that I was heading to my boyfriend's apartment and how I'd just gotten off the phone with him so he was expecting me.  And probably the polite college kid with the umbrella understood completely.

Eventually, Derek Todd Lee was captured in Atlanta, after a brilliant DNA technician, who had memorized his DNA sequence, just happened to catch sight of the matching results in their lab while she was working another case.   There was a huge sense of relief, but I don't think the fear ever really left any of us who lived through that time of fear and suspicion.  Not a single one of those women would have ever opened the door to that evil man if they would have known that it would lead to their deaths.

If I'm home alone, I never open a door, I start at the slightest sound of the house settling or a neighbor's door closing.  I still don't open doors or walk to the mailbox alone, but having my panic button and the knowledge that if a single door opens in the middle of the night a piercing siren will go off and ADT will immediately be listening on our two way monitor is incredibly soothing.

Last night I got a phone call from Colby.  One of our friends was robbed at gunpoint on the way from her apartment gate to her building, while it was still daylight and people were passing.  I think it was the wakeup call he needed that bad things can happen, even if you do live in a "nice" area.  Luckily she's physically fine, but I think Colby feels a lot better knowing that I'm home alone with a security system.

Which, you know, is what I've been saying for months now, but what do I know, I'm just a girl...

I Vant To Be Alone Now

After a lovely week entertaining my parents with all that Seattle has to offer, I am once again back to finding ways to entertain myself.  I dropped them off at the airport this morning so that they could continue the adventures across the lovely north and southwest, and Colby left on Sunday for a month-long class, so I've prepared myself by collecting all of the Glamours, Luckys, and Vogues that have been piling up over the past couple of months, learning how to work our new Comcast DVR, and plumping up my Blockbuster Queue with all of the girly flicks I could possibly desire.

We had a really great time showing my parents the sights when they were here, and miraculously, almost every day was sunny and clear.  The only day it rained, we spent poking around a huge antique shop and laughing at the locals who were standing at the door, gazing outside in sheer awe of the thunder claps and lightning bolts that we so rarely see in these parts.  On the sunnier days we were able to visit Mt. Rainier (or "the mountain" as I've taken to calling it), we spent a full and exhausting day in Seattle, riding the Duck, wandering the Pike Place Market, and viewing the city from the Space Needle.  I hadn't really had a chance to do much touring since moving here and it was fun to get back to it.

The house finally looks moved into--all of our boxes are unpacked, the downstairs is painted and some of the pictures have even been hung.  I'm holding off on the "virtual tour" until we've had a chance to get the upstairs painted, hopefully in August or September, and have gotten a few more window coverings hung.  But today is the first time since we moved in that I haven't felt the weight of the millions of things left to do hanging over my head.  I'm winning the battle with this house, and soon I'll win the war!

Of course, then there's this...

I think it is safe to say that the Wednesday Wedding Weigh-In is a war that I have been losing, and oh, so happily.  Do you see that cake?  We massacred it.  And I did my part throughout the rest of the week to decrease the surplus population of cake and ice cream.  So, while the cake lost the battle, my waistline is losing the war.  Tomorrow I am getting back on track, but I'm not even going to depress myself by stepping on the scale again for another week.  Hopefully, after a week of good eating habits and running I'll be back where I left off and back on track.

And now I must dash, I'm having a security system installed right now and I feel that I've revealed myself to be enough of an antisocial dork, glued to my computer, so I should probably go do something unspeakably cool to redeem myself in the ADT guy's eyes.

Where Ever Did I Put My Fainting Couch?

After a little negotiation with the painter and a heavy dose of eyelash batting, I finally convinced Colby that hiring someone else to do the rest of our interior painting would be a GREAT idea.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all about DIY when the situation calls for it, but if you could see the office and guest bedroom (the two rooms we painted ourselves), you would probably completely back up our decision to let the pros handle things in this department.  I just can't bear to see our beautiful brand new house botched by our questionable edging skillz.

So, as much as I believe firmly in DIY, I believe just as firmly that there is a reason God gave some people talents and other people the ability to open the Yellow Pages and utilize the large quantity of skilled craftsmen out there in the world.  I now feel the same way about painting walls as I feel about arranging flowers, I mean, yes, I can do it, but why do that when someone else can do it so much better?

Besides, it's a husband and wife team and they have four pets to feed.  I feel as though I'm bettering someone else's life and that just make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  Like a peach.  That just came out of the oven.

Meanwhile, the painters being downstairs, I have been forced upstairs, away from my beloved television and forced to do actual labor in preparation for the parental units' visit, which is a frightening 48 hours away.  Forty eight hours to finish decorating the guest room, put everything back in it's place downstairs after the painters leave, go grocery shopping since I figure we should probably feed our guests at some point, finish cleaning the office, and clear the rest of the "Where the hell should we put this?" debris off of the floor upstairs.  So, of course I decided that I would go online and surf blogs and check my email obsessively instead.  Would you really expect anything less from me?

Anyway, I'm suffering from that guilt complex I have about lolling about being fed grapes by strapping Roman slaves while my chores are being taken care of by the hired workers, so I'm going to go downstairs and offer them something to drink.  La dee da, I do so love being a lady of leisure.

Shock! Horror! Gasp!

Well, I've just managed to scrape myself off of the ground, where I have just recovered from a serious heart attack brought on by prices for airfare to New York City.  Oh my holy hell, I'm still reeling a bit from the experience.  Seriously, have I been living under a rock?  No, scratch that, I know I have not.  In fact, I've flown rather a lot lately and it seems as though every time I fly I go through this appalled and aghast phase when buying the tickets and then eventually cave and buy a ticket weeks later when it's $100 more than it was when I first started looking and then grumble about how many meals that $100 would have bought and I should have just sucked it up and bought the damn ticket when it was only Astronomically Expensive instead of waiting for it to spike up to Exorbitantly Is It Even Really Still Worth Going Expensive.

Just a couple of weeks ago, my lady friends and I made a group decision to switch my bachelorette party from Vegas to New York.  There were a few reasons, but the main one was that a couple more girls would be able to make it, and the more I looked into Las Vegas the less I really felt the burning desire to go.  Plus apparently there are some really amazing cupcakes in Manhattan and phenomenal rice pudding in Brooklyn.  Most of my milestone decisions in life are centered around food.  So, this afternoon, rather than sit around and stare at the television, working on further hollowing out the groove in the sofa where my ass goes, I decided that I would be proactive and start doing a little shopping for plane tickets.

And plane tickets I did find.  I'm just having a really hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that 400 dollars round trip is a Really Great Deal as Travelocity would have me believe.  Do you know the shoes that I could buy for $400??  I could buy FABULOUS shoes for $400.  I remember spending $250 on a ticket to go visit Colby once and thinking I was really getting robbed.  And now I'm feeling very miserly, old grandfather-like, talking about "in my day", but see "in my day" was only a couple of years ago, so is it really expecting all that much to think perhaps the current state of airline ticket prices is a bit ridiculous?

My sister is trying to come visit next month and when she was researching ticket prices from New Orleans to Seattle the tickets were once again at the lowest around $400, but in much larger quantities ranging from $700-$1,000.  Y'all, that is NUTS!!

Anyway, I know I'm just going to wait a bit longer to see if the prices drop and next week I'll probably determine that $400 is about as good as it gets and then buy a ticket for $500.  At least I know to brace myself for the shock now.  I'd hate to push my luck surviving yet another airline induced heart stoppage.

Wednesday Wedding Weigh-In: A Day Late, Less Than a Pound Short

Starting weight: 130.2
Current weight: 127.5
Pounds Lost: 2.7
Goal weight: 115
Time left to reach goal: 23 weeks

I apologize for my weigh-in coming a day late--I've managed to completely lose track of what day of the week it is.  Colby got back home Saturday evening and had a few days off work, so really the past 4 days just started to feel like an extended weekend.  Before I knew it, it was Wednesday and I'd already eaten my breakfast.  And let me tell you, it's humiliating enough to broadcast my weight to the entire internet, I am NOT weighing in with food in my stomach!

So, anyway, this week's weigh-in was a bit less impressive than last week, but probably a much more accurate reflection of weight lost over the week.  I'm down .3 pounds from last week, which is decent, but doesn't quite meet my goal of .5 pounds per week.  Overall I'm still well within reach of my goal since I only needed to have lost 1 pound by now, but it does make me think that I may need to change up my program a little more.  Once again, last week I did miss a running day, so I'm giving my current program one last chance before adding another day of exercise to see if that changes anything.

The other big project on the agenda this week has been getting the house somewhat presentable for visitors.  My parents are arriving for a nearly week-long visit on Wednesday, and suddenly all of these little moving-in shortcuts that we've been living with seem completely unacceptable.  So, pictures are being hung, clothes moved into the new dresser, the office is finally almost completely organized, and I've got my fingers crossed that we can get the painter here early next week to get the downstairs painted.  I'm just so looking forward to the day that we don't have a three page long list of Things to Do Around the House.  It's mostly fun, and I love that sense of accomplishment I feel when we check things of the list, but it will be really nice when there aren't weekly trips to Lowe's and Wal-Mart topping two to three hundred dollars a trip.

In far more exciting news, my big Friday night date with Lori aka RisibleGirl was ever so much fun!  I've made some fantastic friends over the internet--in fact, two of my closest friends and confidants are girls that I met online and have only spent time with in person once or twice--but it never ceases to amaze me how an internet friendship can translate so easily to a "real life" friendship.  The minute I saw Lori I already felt like I'd known her forever, and it was so bizarre to say "so nice to meet you".  Dinner was AMAZING and like a good girl I did pass on the legendary chocolate cake (which, come on, shouldn't that mean that I get to lose at least a pound just for good behavior??).  It was a truly great night after a truly sucky week of waiting for the boy to get home, and I can't wait until we can play again!

Monday, Colby and I decided to try out the train from our little town into Seattle, to test out how a commute would go for a job opportunity I was considering.   Unfortunately, once I added the bus commute to get out of downtown Seattle and to the area that the office was located the commute added up to almost 2 1/2 hours total from my doorstep to theirs, and for the salary they were offering it just wasn't feasible to continue with the interview process.  So, that was a no, but I'll tell you, if I can find a job nearer to the downtown area, the train really is a pretty nifty commuting device.  I've never lived in a city that was big enough to have public transportation, aside from city buses that you would be fairly ill-advised to step on board, so the convenience of being able to zip up to the city and avoid all of the traffic and wear and tear on my car is pretty darn nice.  The icing on the Sound Transit cake?  They actually announce "All Aboard" before they close the doors and start moving--how cool is that!

Today, Colby is back to work and it's back to life as usual for me and I should probably go get in one of my runs for this week--I'm bound and determined to hit that -.5 mark next week!

What a HORRIBLE Week For a Diet!

I realize how stereotypical I am, but when I am approaching my Special Time each month all I want is chocolate and ice cream.  I CRAVE chocolate and ice cream.  I DREAM about chocolate and ice cream.  And let me tell you, when I do not get my chocolate and ice cream, my Special Time just feels a little less special and a little more hellish.

Particularly when, on the second week of my diet, Sonic goes and decides that they're going to give away free root beer floats on Thursday night, and that they will air a commercial to this effect every bloody second on every bloody commercial.  (Hm, perhaps a bad choice of modifier there... ew.)  Last night, I practically broke down in tears when I saw the Free Root Beer Float (!) commercial at 11 o'clock and I realized that the opportunity had passed me by.  You'd think I would be proud of myself for resisting the siren call of the delicious, bubbly, icy cold, creamy combo of soft serve vanilla and root beer, but no, all I could think was, "Good job, asshole, you missed your chance!"

Tonight I'm finally meeting one of the absolutely fabulous internet friends I've made over the past four years, and apparently the restaurant we're going to serves a chocolate cake that is absolutely to die for.  I don't know how I'm going to hold up and make it through the evening without tears.  I cracked under the pressure of the root beer float, however am I going to make it past a dessert with the name "Chocolate Insanity"??  It's cruel really.  Shouldn't there be some kind of clause in the dieting contract that exempts you from participation when you are faced with such temptation?

The only light breaking through all of these black dessert clouds is that I am ever so excited to be meeting my friend and Colby should be arriving home some time tomorrow.  At the exact point at which I lay eyes on him for the first time, I plan to go into full on campaigning mode, my platform being that we should hire the adorable painter who came yesterday and gave me an extremely reasonable quote for painting the majority of the remaining, unpainted interior of our house.  The thought of picking up a paint roller again makes me feel physically ill, and I can't bear to see another room of our beautiful new house butchered by our complete lack of painting skill.  I was completely charmed by the painter when, on our first phone call, he segued from room sizes and number of coats of paint to an ongoing narrative about a bird that was talking to him, and playing with a ball.  Then he emailed me a picture of his dog.  Apparently, just because. 

Now, that is the kind of endearing insanity that I wholeheartedly endorse, and I feel that our only choice is to do our part to support his bird talking, dog loving lifestyle.

Editing to Add:
These shoes, 50% off, negative five dollars for shipping... Yeah, that went a looooong way to making me feel better about the fact that Colby's arrival home just got pushed back yet another 12 hours.

Wednesday Wedding Weigh-In: The Meltdown Version

Y'all, it has been a long and frustrating week, here at the homestead.  I'll begin by saying that none of the following paragraph has a thing to do with the weight loss segment of my blog, so if that's what you're here for, just skip down a bit, because I've got some whining and self pity to take care of first. 

It all began two weeks ago, when I received a phone call from Colby who was at a class in Kansas.  He'd been gone for a week and prior to that had been home for a few days after another week-long TDY.  In the course of the phone call, it was revealed that a really super fantastic two week trip to Europe was available and he had the opportunity to snap it up.  Of course, being the near saintly and always understanding fiance, I gave him my blessing and urged him to go enjoy Europe for two weeks--no matter that I had hardly seen him in May and wouldn't see him for all of July--go off and enjoy the old country while I stay home and unpack boxes and take care of the dogs!  Okay, maybe it didn't quite go off like that, but with a few glasses of wine between now and then, that's how I remember it.  Anyway, turns out he got screwed and they ended up going on the normal TDY to places that are not so much fun and make me quite nervous when I don't get my nightly check-in phone call.  Huh.  How bout that.  Karma's, she's a bitch, isn't she?

So, Colby got home from his Kansas TDY and the next day headed off to the great wild Yonder.  A couple of days passed until they reached their destination and that's when I got the next bit of news.  Apparently, someone, somewhere screwed up.  "What are you guys doing here?" was the welcome Colby's crew received when they arrived, "We don't need your crew, you can go home tomorrow."  Steam.  Exiting.  My Ears.  So, I expected him home on Saturday.  Yay!  There'd be no tax-free paycheck in June, but I was okay with that.  But then the powers that be interfered once more, and they decided that they would send his crew on a quick mission and THEN send him home probably on Monday.  Want to guess where Colby is not currently, at this exact moment?  Yeah, they've been back from their "mission" since Sunday evening or Monday (I've lost track), but they can't get set-up for their go-home mission.  Not only is it hard to not have him home so that we can see each other for a solid block of time before he leaves again, but it makes it hard for me to get anything done or scheduled since I have absolutely no clue when he'll be home and needing my chauffeur services.  Le Sigh.  Anyway, now that's off my chest, I feel a bit better.  And you must understand that the high drama of this situation is only being exacerbated by "that time of month", which I realized was upon me last night as I was watching America's Got Talent and sobbing after each performance, in awe of the sheer beauty of the talent displayed, or the heart-wrenching sorrow of each person sent back home.

And now, finally, we move on to the topic at hand, the weight loss challenge I have issued to myself.  When I stepped on the scale this morning, I did a little jig of happiness, but I should preface by saying that they may not be entirely reflective of weight lost in the past week.  I did a little research on the appropriate way to weigh yourself, and it seems the general consensus is immediately after waking up, after a little bathroom break, and dressed only in what God gave you.  Las week when I recorded my weight I'd had lunch a few hours earlier and was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, so it's highly likely that some of my progress this week is due to the different conditions under which I weighed myself.  Next week should be a more accurate recording, but with that said, let's get on to the numbers!

Starting weight: 130.2
Current weight: 127.8
Pounds Lost: 2.4
Goal weight: 115
Time left to reach goal: 24 weeks

When I stepped on the scale this morning, I wasn't sure what to expect.  I tried very hard to stick to my plan, but I did have a run-in with a brownie one night, and the three cartons of ice cream in my freezer called out to me another night, but all in all, I think I ate fairly well over the last week, a cup of cereal instead of an entire huge bowl, a single packet of organic macaroni and cheese instead of half a box of the processed stuff, yogurt for desserts, whole wheat goldfish or pretzels and hummus for snacks instead of delicious, heavenly, puffed Cheetos.  Also, I didn't quite meet my all of my fitness goals.  Starting my count from last Wednesday I ran a total of three times, and on the one rainy day we've had in a few weeks, I tried substituting walking up and down stairs for a run.  Let me tell you, walking up stairs is FAR more painful than any little jog around the block.  I made a total of 15 minutes of stair climbing, and just added the other 15 minutes onto my run yesterday.  Unfortunately, I'm starting to feel my shin splints coming back, so I'm taking the next couple of days off in hopes that when I run again this weekend they'll be gone.

So, there you have it, I'm pleased with my success, but hope to have a better and more accurate showing over the next week.  For now, I'm sticking with my fitness program of 30 minutes of aerobics, 60 situps, and 20 pushups 4 times a week.  Overall, I think even barring the normal weight fluctuations, and differences in weighing conditions, it's safe to say that I met my goal of .5 pounds of weight lost this week.  Does that mean I can have a cookie now?

Dreaming the Hours Away

When it comes up in conversation that I am currently unemployed, so many people make the typical envious comments, but then quickly add the fact that they couldn't handle the boredom, that it would drive them crazy.  I've got to be honest with you--I could happily spend the rest of my life just like this!

I've managed to keep myself busy with a number of projects and still find myself wishing for more time in the day.  Friday and Saturday I spent most of the day organizing various storage spaces in the house--my recent favorite online store is Stacks and Stacks. I have fallen madly in love with their wide array of organizing supplies--for the first time in my life all of my jewelry is well organized, the bathroom is (fairly) decluttered, and all gloves, hats, and umbrellas are stored neatly in the downstairs coat closet.  I cannot tell you how exciting this is for me!

Many hours of my day are spent on TripAdvisor researching and filing away all of the useful information I can find on Italy.  The Word document I started months ago with a briefly sketched out itinerary has grown to 9 pages chock full of travel tips, restaurant recommendations, and train schedules and I have become utterly obsessed with traveling.   I think a lot of that obsession stems from the fact that Colby is gone so often traveling to places like Germany and Iceland along with the less desirable missions, while I sit at home watering the grass and feeding the dogs.  I'm not that I'm bitter but his sporadic phone calls back home and never fully unpacked bags highlight just how little traveling abroad I've done in the past few years.

When I joined the Air Force, I was under the terribly misguided impression that I would be traveling the world and seeing exciting locales that I might not have the opportunity to see as a civilian.  During my tenure in the Air Force I moved from Louisiana to Arkansas and then had one trip to Alabama and one trip to Mississippi.  Not exactly the exciting world travel I had anticipated.  In contrast to that, between my 17 and 19 birthdays I had the opportunity to spend 3 weeks in England, Scotland, and Wales and to study abroad for 6 weeks in Ireland, traveling around the coast on my own for a week and a half following the classroom portion of the trip.  I was bitten by the travel bug and it pains me that it has been almost six years since I've been out of the country, with the exception of a day trip to Canada.

One of the things that terrifies me about settling back into a standard 9-5 job is that I won't have the chance to have all of the big travel adventures that I really want to squeeze into the next 4 or 5 years, before we start thinking about adding kids to our little menagerie.  I'll sit down to check my email and before I realize it, three hours have passed during which I've been researching Prague, Vienna, Amsterdam, Greece, Paris, Australia--I devour travel blogs and am already counting down the days until 2008 when we will finally be headed off on our honeymoon.  I love my own country, and appreciate all of the beauty and history that it has to offer and I've been lucky enough to experience, but there's something so incredible and indescribable about immersing yourself into the beauty and history of another culture.  I proposed to Colby that starting with our 2008 Italy adventure, we make a real and concerted effort to take a trip out of the country each year, and always to somewhere different.

I know that my ability to travel won't come to a grinding halt when we have children, but I do understand that the experiences will be different.  Honestly, I would absolutely love to be stationed in another country for a couple of years when I do have children.  I think it would be such a great experience for them to have country boundaries blurred a bit, to know that just because you live one place doesn't mean that you can't branch out and appreciate others.  I want them to be bitten by the same bug that bit me, to always want to experience new places and adventures, not to feel tied to one specific place.

What I love about travel was said, better than all the words I've written could ever say, by St. Augustine, "The World is a book, and those who do not travel only read one page."