I am sick of traveling!

When I’ve made this confession to friends and family, they can’t believe it. I am the person, who according to my husband, has never met a trip I didn’t like. But truthfully, the last thing I want to do now is get on another plane headed anywhere but home.

I’m sick of packing, sick of unpacking, sick of airport “food”, sick of packing snacks so I don’t have to eat airplane food. I’ve discovered, if I pack a healthy snack for the flight I will have time to eat elsewhere, but if I don’t, I’ll end up starving. Kind of like bringing an umbrella when you go outside assures it won’t rain. And I refuse to pay money for airplane food. A can of Pringles does not a meal make.

I’m sick of hotels, sick of crappy coffee, sick of packing my dirty laundry in my laundry bag, sick of hotel rooms with no bathtubs, uncomfortable beds and hard pillows. I’ve taken to packing my silk pillowcase with me, so I have some remnant of home along for the ride. I’m sick of checking the hotel and rent-a-car to make sure I didn’t forget anything and I’m sick of losing things on trips. My Jackie O sunglasses are the most recent casualty on my last trip, left in a rent-a-car we took to Mystic, Connecticut for the weekend.

It’s been an amazing year of travel and I realize I’ve been lucky to go to so many wonderful places- New York City to see Funny Girl, Louisville for the Kentucky Derby, checking off my last state of Alaska, Las Vegas for Zeke’s birthday, San Antonio to see the Alamo, Salem in October and also three out-of-town weddings. This last wedding was a family wedding and a family trip with Lauren, Emma, Guillermo (Emma’s fiance) and Eric (Lauren’s boyfriend).

As they say- “it’s all good”- but I’m tired. Very, very tired. I’ve traveled somewhere every month this year and some months (like October), to two and three different places. This month alone I’ve been to: Saint Augustine, Florida, Waynesville, North Carolina, Clemson, South Carolina, Gloucester, Salem, Boston (MA), Mystic, Connecticut and Tallahassee. On top of all that, I caught a cold on my trip to Boston and feel like crap.

My friend Sharon asked if I even remember what my house looks like. My mother called me a “Whirling Dervish”. But I’ve seen Whirling Dervishes (in Istanbul), in their fez hats and white turbans, twirling hypnotically and looking skyward; it’s a religious dance meant to put participants into a meditative state. What I’ve been doing this year has been anything but meditative. It has bordered on lunacy.

I feel more like the Tasmanian Devil, of Looney Tunes fame, whirling and twirling like a tornado with no direction, fangs bared, on constant high alert. I want to eat a homemade meal at 7 o’clock, watch Jeopardy at 7:30, take a bath and be in my own bed by ten. I want to wake up in my own bedroom, looking out on my own backyard and drinking coffee I’ve prepared, the way I like it. I crave routine and normalcy. This year has been like too much Christmas.

I returned from Boston Monday night at 7:30 p.m., unpacked, repacked and found myself back at the airport at 7:30 a.m. the next morning for my flight to Tallahassee. I’ve spent every Halloween with Liam and his parents since he was born and we dress in a theme that Courtney decides. Year one, we were Peter Pan, Wendy, Captain Hook and Tinkerbell. Year two we were Scooby Doo and the Mystery Gang. And this year it was a Dinosaur/Jurrassic Park theme with Liam as the dinosaur, but he didn’t want to wear the costume, so at the last minute, the theme got switched to Toy Story.

Which is how I found myself at Party City at 8 o’clock at night, after my flight from Boston, looking for a red cowgirl hat to be Jesse (Toy Story 2). This was the night before Halloween and Party City was PACKED. As you walked in they said “Welcome to the party”, but anyone who got a glimpse of the endless line, felt like anything but partying. Luckily, the line went quick, I bought my hat and drove home to try and get some sleep.

I had my trusty carry-on and my red cowboy hat with me Tuesday as I sat in my window seat, waiting anxiously to take off for Tallahassee. Christopher had called me that morning to tell me Courtney was in labor. I was hoping the little munchkin could hang on until I got there, but I got a text from Courtney with a photo of her and the new baby at 9:15 a.m. He is my fourth grandson! 6 pounds 10 ounces, 18.75 inches, named (after much debate) Luke William Schild. He is beautiful.

When my sister-in-law heard I had a fourth grand baby on the way she kiddingly said:

You’re really getting a little greedy with all these grandchildren.

Kathy Brandts

And as another friend (Leonor) texted me when I gave her the news: “You are really killing it in the grandma department!!!”

I told her: “I really have no control over it!”

I don’t have any control over that situation, but I do have control over my travel schedule and this last trip may have been my best this year, because I got to see my newborn grandson Luke on the very day he was born. I told my son Christopher, that now I will be coming every year, not just for Halloween, but a birthday party as well. Tomorrow I fly home and, God willing, I’ll be home for a while.

There’s no place like home.

Dorothy Gale, The Wizard of Oz

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