Anyone Out There?

Well, here I am, approximately eight months since my last post. If you are still here, thought I would check in and let you know a few things.
1. I am still alive.
2. Baby is 10 months old now, hence the reason I haven't posted in eight months.
3. She is going on her first plane ride tomorrow.
4. I started a new blog entitled The Motherhood Mystery and you can find it here.
5. Might go to Russia this summer. Gotta back in the travel game.
5. My new blog only has one post. Just got it up and running last night. It has my usual dose of sarcastic humor, yes. Yes, it is about motherhood. But don't be afraid.  I will never, ever, write about my recommendations on good sippy cups or describe in detail the exact texture and appearance of my child's rash. Incidentally, the first post is all about travel. So go check it out. This blog is still in existence, but I am going to have one foot in both and see how well that works out for me. Which it probably won't.

It Was Just a Dream

Although this post has nothing to do with travel, journeys, or adventures, it has been making me laugh since 2 a.m, so here ya go.

Adam dreamed last night that I was cheating on him. Simultaneously, I was dreaming that I had inadvertently shoved Addie (2 months old now) out of bed, past Adam who just let her roll onto the floor where she was now in pain and receiving no help from either of her parents.

Insert forces of nature here: We both wake up at the exact same time from these dreams in varying states of panic. Mine was more frantic, his was more umm...angry.

Him: WERE YOU DANCING WITH OTHER GUYS THE OTHER NIGHT WHEN YOU WENT OUT??
Me: WHERE IS ADDIE??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Him: WERE YOU??!!
Me: Oh thank God. There she is. Right where I left her.
Him: I am REALLY pissed at you right now.
Me: Well I thought Addie fell out of bed and you didn't care!
Him:
Me: And when did I go out and where DID I GO?
Him:
Me:

And that is how that those two issues got resolved. The state of emotional chaos lasted approximately two minutes and we were both back fast asleep, safe in the knowledge that both our daughter and our marriage are nicely intact.

Hey, Ho, Here I Am

If you have been and are still reading this blog (and I hope that you are) then you would have rightfully assumed that I was just a *little* busy with childbirth and now child rearing.

Miss Priss joined us on May 20 after 40 weeks, one heating pad, 3 bottles of maximum strength TUMS, one false alarm visit to the ER, and 71 Frosties from Wendy's. I have met and conquered my greatest fear in life (baby delivery), and it wasn't pretty. But I did it, she is here, and she is a keeper. I can now say that childbirth is definitely the most physically challenging task I have ever completed. Mounting Cerro Negro with a board in hand and gear in tow doesn't even begin to compare to pushing eight pounds out of your ummm....ladyparts. Enough said.

I decided that pregnancy, particularly the last 5 weeks of it, should be a form of torture inflicted upon violent criminals or enemies of the state. Pure misery could shape those criminals right up.

So you can see that I haven't had much time or energy for writing about my various tales of adventure around the world. So what has brought me out of babyland and back to the surface of blogland? A Bing commerical!

It caught my attention the other day for the delightful tune that played throughout. The narrator is going to Hawaii, needs recommendations on things to do, exchanges messages with his friends, and the whole thing is set to "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers-a group or song I had never heard of until Bing introduced us. This song took me instantly back to several beach scenes in my life-San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua,  Playa del Carmen, Mexico, Bwejuu, Zanzibar, Livingston, Guatemala, Koh Samui, Thailand, Placencia, Belize, and the list goes on. You know what kind of song I am talking about-the kind where you picture yourself relaxing on a beautiful stretch of sand and ocean blue, colorful beverage in hand, wind in your face, good friends at hand, and without a care in the world. Seriously, nothing matters at that moment.

Now the verses could be considered slightly depressing, albeit ones sung to a fairly upbeat tune. But the hook is where it's at:

-I belong with you, you belong with me my sweet heart (Hey!)
I belong with you, you belong with me  my sweet (Ho!)

Simplicity at its best.  Simple enough to sing to my new baby girl as she goes to sleep and consider my new family.

We belong together.

If you want to check it out for yourself, here it is.

Around the World in Two Hours

 A few weeks ago, I ventured out with some BFF's to the Travel and Adventure Expo in DC. I first saw the ad for it on Groupon or social living or whatever those sites are called. I rarely pay attention to them, because the good deals featured on those sites have not quite reached WV yet. But this one caught my attention for obvious reasons. A giant convention center full of travel opportunities? Yes please. And I can win travel prizes even though I never ever win anything? Yes please.

But then a cold thought hit me. What if I get super depressed after visiting the convention center full 'o destinations that I won't be journeying to anytime soon? What if I turn My Love Hate Relationship with Your Travel Blog (see column at left) into a real life psycho moment which results in me being escorted out of the expo? What if everyone looks at the clearly pregnant girl and smirks: Now where does she think she's going?!

Then another cold thought hit me..THAT is how the sedentary life begins. Letting anxiety and doubt creep in and make your decisions for you is how very bad things happen to you and your passions. So I threw off the first cold thought, and made plans to get there.

And get there I did. Navigating DC traffic is slightly more difficult these days when one has a semi-permanent bowling ball attached to one's midsection. However,  it was a Sunday afternoon, and therefore I did not have to employ as many of my usual "evasive maneuvering" traffic strategies. 

So I threw open those convention center doors,  stared the Land of 1,000 Travel Options in the face and vowed to conquer all of them. Bulgaria. Fiji. Kenya. Dayton, Ohio.

This is not really how things happened. I calmly walked in with the BFF's and equally as calmly perused each aisle, not vowing to do much of anything, except to win a trip somewhere (not to Dayton, Ohio, though, which wasn't actually present at the show. However, there were some other random places I had never considered on my travel list). Winning hasn't happened yet. But I did enjoy myself. It was a kaleidoscope of countries, many I have been to already, many I have not. I didn't find a single country I didn't want to go to though, so when Mini-Me arrives, we have to get started ASAP on her passport and tiny luggage. Only complaint of the day was that many of the destinations were being presented as group or luxury tours. Which are two things I don't do when it comes to travel. (Except for those  5 days in Istanbul, which only solidified why massive group travel is not on my list of things that make me happy. Despite the fact that those 5 days were pretty darn fun with MOST of the people involved. Those people know who they are.)

At the end of it all, Samantha Brown from the Travel Channel was there with her perky smile and although I didn't join the line to meet her, I snuck a few pictures with my new camera, which I am still trying to figure out how to use. So they aren't the best, but here she is.

PS-Upon Googling Samantha Brown, I discovered there are some very definite opinions on her. While she's not my favorite travel show host ever, I don't hate her guts. My Google search led me to a blog post written by a guy named John Zhu, which cracked me up just a little.

Do you have thoughts on SB? Or are you thinking, I could seriously not care less?

Samantha Brown, looking neither perky, nor smiley

On Big Bellies and Beautiful Beaches

As in, in the case of this Prego Pregger, they don't match. The combo in the title did not work well for me or me self-esteem this past weekend-especially when the beautiful beach in question is also full of non-prego beautiful spring breakers.

First, Florida was great, protruding uterus aside. Well worth the effort and overpayment for plane tickets.

But if you want to feel great about yourself during your 7th, almost 8th month of pregnancy, don't head to the beach smack-dab in the middle of spring break. Siiiiigh.

A little over a decade ago, on my first *woohoo* college spring break, a few friends and I headed to Florida. We ended up in St. Pete's beach on the Gulf coast, which, if you have ever been there, you know that this is NOT the hub for parties, good times, and *woohoo* spring break fun. We ended up venturing to Siesta Key, (also rated the #1 beach in the USA by none other than "Dr.Beach") where one of the girls had been before and it promised to be a bit more lively. While a step up from St. Pete, it wasn't wild, and it suited us just perfectly. Good times.

So just this past weekend, we headed back to the scene of freshmen fun, and found the scene to be a bit....different. Still beautiful, but packed with people. Mostly spring breakers in teeny-tiny-eeny-meeny-itsby-bitsy pieces of what appeared to be  colorful Kleenex that apparently doubled as swimsuits. Holding their beverage of choice as they strutted their bronzed Kleenex-clad bodies down the beach.

Now mind you, there is no way in heaven or on earth that I was going to endure the trauma of finding a maternity bathing suit. In my humble, not so experienced opinion, nobody wants to see that. (I don't even really want to see it). But this decision was made as much for my sanity as it was for my wallet. I am due in May, I won't be frequenting any swimming pools, hotel swim-up bars, or water theme parks  until then, so therefore, no need to shell out the cash for something I would wear once. Throw in the fact that I am pale and pasty from a West Virginia winter, and you have a recipe for No Way Jose. But I won't let that stop me from actually going to the beach. Because I love the beach, and there is already plenty of stuff I'm not doing right now, and I wasn't going to let this be one of them. So I strolled down the beach with the rest of them, looking decidedly more clothed, more pale, less festive, and slightly less confident in my waddle strut. (Side story: two unfortunate individuals have dared to suggest that I waddle. One was a male student who knew as soon as he said it that he should just go ahead and end his life right then and there. He turned 17 shades of red and tried to hide behind a garbage can. The other was a female co-worker, who I in turn asked, "Do you WANT me to punch you in the face?" I do not condone violence, and especially not at work. But she was very close to getting handled in the hallway).

I am not an insecure person by most standards, but I can't lie, my self-esteem took a bit of a hit that day.

But I survived the strut. I had a good time. We accomplished what we wanted-friends, Orioles spring training game, good food, beach time, and just laying around doing nothing.

One big belly, one giant Oriole, and one Very Happy Husband

Florida On My Mind

New camera-check. (Sony Cyber-shot).
Rental car reserved-check.
Condo key picked up-check.
Pedicure-check.
Summer maternity clothes dredged up from the depths of mountains of clothes friends have graciously given/loaned to me-check.
Snacks that I plan on consuming as soon as possible-check.
Realization that Daylight Savings Time doesn't start until tomorrow night-Check.

I might be just a *tad* bit excited about this trip. I have scaled back my grand plans for adventure though. The fact that I am 7 and a half months pregnant has apparently finally sunk in (just this past week) and with this newfound revelation, I have opted to find it perfectly acceptable to rest, relax, and do nothing.  So there will be no reports of excruciating hauls up a volcano or safariing into the wilds. Sorry folks.

Just us, some sun, a pool, a beach, some friends, some baseball, and hopefully, a beautiful sunset or two.

It's Camera Time

No not Hammer Time, Camera Time. As in, I need a new one. Thanks to The Thief, I have been without a camera for months now, seeing no urgent need to purchase one. But now there is a need, and I need some advice. We are headed off on our little mini-adventure to Florida this coming weekend, and for about 5 minutes, I contemplated going sans camera. After all, I have gone sans Blue before, and it worked out just fine (sort of, there was some cheating going on).  So I figured, why not try a trip without a camera? But then I remembered I was having a baby in the next two months, and therefore it might be a nice idea to get one anyway. Perfect excuse.

It would be nice to have some input though, from the rest of you travelers. I typically have used a simple point and shoot, usually a Canon. Nothing fancy, so that mean people like thieves who like to steal stuff won't get too much reward for their efforts. (Still harboring a shred of bitterness about this).

Let's face it. I am not going to be the next National Geographic photographer, so high-tech lenses and equipment are out of the question. I also have a mortgage to pay, and I don't want to exchange my soul for it either. But neither do I enjoy taking crappy photos of which will be my mementos. So a Vivitar is out of the question. Sorry, Vivitar lovers.

Any and all suggestions on a camera are welcome, as long as they meet the criteria above.

And if you could only take one with you, which would you take-camera or guidebook?

Money CAN Buy Happiness, After All

Yup, I just proved it yesterday with one click of the mouse on Expedia.com. After days and days and days of searching high and low across the world wide web, I essentially threw out restraint, said "cheap fares be damned" and determined that my sunny disposition was desperately needed in the Sunshine state. The closer it got to my intended travel dates and I still didn't have the blessed  confirmation of travel email in my inbox, the grumpier and more miserable I became.

Ask my husband. Ask my students. Ask anyone forced to interact with me on a daily basis when I haven't gotten a travel fix.  I nearly reposted "My Love/Hate Relationship With Your Travel Blog" as my way of shaking my fist at all you lovely travel bloggers out there whose blogs I haven't been reading because I figured it is much better when I keep the grumpiness to myself.

Do I have a problem? Mmmm. Perhaps. My happiness doesn't totally hinge on travel. After all, I have a pretty awesome husband, a job that makes me want to get up every morning, and a tiny unborn gymnast who, as of late, has been making her every move known. (On a side note, I think that she bodyslams herself against the nice cushiony walls of her little watery home sometimes. And the bodyslam is complete with a running start. Seriously, what is she doing in there?!)

But back to my happiness. While it doesn't hinge on travel, it is pretty darn important to me. As I have said a million times before, the journey doesn't mean a trip to the Congo or a safari on the Serengeti. Those activities are awesome, but the adventure is what and where you make it. Haven't I already been to Florida? Yeah. But never with Adam, never to Ft. Myers, and never to do the things we are planning on doing. So it's all brand new to me!

So with one little mouse click, the clouds parted, the sunshine shone, the smile returned,  and I overpaid by a few hundred dollars.

(Thanks Shivya at A Shooting Star for inspiring  this post title!)

Murphy's Law Strikes Again

I have learned another valuable Murphy lesson this week, It's one that is no surprise to even a novice traveler, so clearly I should have known better. Actually, I did know better.

I waited to buy an airline ticket.

YOU NEVER WAIT WHEN THE PRICE IS DOWN!

Murphy's Law of the Obvious states that if you wait to purchase a plane ticket until 1) you have the money or 2) you have a place to stay or 3) you pay off a bill or 4) you think the price will go lower, the price will most assuredly skyrocket to epic levels never before seen for that particular route.

Hmmmpffff.

As you know from my last post, I want to take a trip pre-baby. I finally settled on Florida, but not Miami. I ruled out places like San Francisco and New Orleans because if I go there, I am going to want to explore as much as possible and fill up every moment with something. Judging by my performance traipsing around DC this past weekend, I will be lucky to still be breathing without the aid of a portable oxygen tank by that point in this pregnancy. So, a location that isn't begging to be explored is paramount. Fort Myers fits the bill nicely, due to friends with places to stay, the simulataneous ongoing baseball spring training, and the proximity to the Everglades. Perfect. All that is left to do is buy two tickets. And last week, I found two at $191 each. Amazing price. Did I buy them? No.

Yeah, I was trying to be responsible, ensuring that we had a place to stay first, ensuring that we got our security deposit back from the rental first, ensuring that our first mortgage payment was paid first. Ensuring, Ensuring, Ensuring.

See? That pesky mortgage is getting in the way already!

Anyway, you can likely see where this is going. The price is now somewhere near $400 a piece, and I refuse to purchase a domestic plane ticket for more than I have paid to fly to some Central and South American countries. I HAVE PRINCIPLES!

But I sincerely hope those principles don't find me at home twiddling my thumbs instead of enjoying the sunny warmth of Florida.

So now I am scouring every website I know, entering every combo of dates possible, desperately to see something back in the 200 range.

Oh $191 from IAD to RSW, you were but a fleeting dream. I thank you for reinforcing a valuable travel lesson.

Throw caution to the wind and just click purchase, for heaven's sake!

I'm Back and I'm Blogging

Despite the dramatic way in which 2011 ended, 2012 thus far has been relatively drama-free, if not mundane. No, not mundane. Anything but, actually. I will start with the last day of 2011 in which we found out the gender of the child within. The conversation went something like this:

Ultrasound technician (UT): It sure looks like a girl.
Me: Excuse me?
UT: I am pretty sure it's a girl.
Me: It can't be. It's a boy. I have known its a boy since a week after I found out I was pregnant.
UT: Well, I will keep looking to be sure. But I'm pretty sure it's a girl.
Me: How long have you been in this line of work?
UT: About a year.
Me: Hmmm.
UT: There's always a chance I could be wrong! But probably not.
Me:
UT: Yes, it's a girl.

Meanwhile, Adam is smirking the biggest smirk I have ever seen him smirk. And he's jubilant.
I am in shock. I mean, my maternal instinct has clearly just failed me on levels of epic proportions. So there ya have it. It's a girl. And once I got over the disbelief of being wrong, Adam pointed out that I now have a little me to raise and I will now have a sidekick on all my adventures.

In other news, I got a new laptop and am back on the internet after 6 weeks without. Thanks Thief, hope you meet up with a nasty stiletto somewhere in life. But Christmas came in January when I discovered that I had uploaded every last one of my Tanzania pictures to Snapfish! There were some China and Mexico pictures and a smattering of other countries on there as well, which was some vindication after losing EVERYTHING to the Thief. I practically started shouting and dancing in the middle of 4th period when I discovered it. My students were taking a test, so I figured I better not.

We also moved into our new house and are busy assuming the responsibilities of home ownership.

More importantly, I am in DIRE need of a trip. As in, I start to twitch when I read other blogs. So I am planning one for pre-baby. It will be stateside with the husband, and I am open to any and all suggestions. On the list so far:
Seattle (but apparently it's too rainy in March when I want to go)
San Diego
Miami and the Everglades
San Francisco
Puerto Rico (qualifies as stateside)
If you have suggestions, by all means, share them!

Identity Theft

I have traveled 'round the world and the unthinkable has never, ever, happened to me. "Unthinkable" when traveling, could be anything-stolen/lost passport, getting lost, finding out you have no place to sleep when you land, or losing all of your pictures. I have been fortunate to depart and return, unscathed.

Which is why, the following incident has me so pissed off.

Last week, in the comfort and safety of my very own home, a person of ill will , chose to enter and take things that did not belong to them. Making them a thief, and us victims of their audacity.

One of those things was my laptop. My laptop that had nearly every photo I have ever taken of every country I have ever visited and every trip I have ever taken.  Turkey, Nicaragua, China, Tanzania, just to name a few. All gone. When I discovered it, I felt as if someone had punched me in the face, then in the gut, then stomped on me.

My laptop had everything, everything on it. And no, I had no external hard drive to back things up, because that would have been the smart thing to do. I went about the next few days alternating between feeling angry and ill, with the ever-present insecurity of wondering if they are going to come back and do it again.

It's been a fun past few weeks, let me tell ya.

When I had time to process it, I decided that someone might as well have just stolen my identity. Because that is, in part,  what my photos mean to me. I am very proud of my ventures around the world. They have made me who I am today. From the first trip to Israel, to the most recent in Nicaragua, I have been formed, shaped, molded by the things I have seen and done. My photos were my hard-copy memories, "proof" that I have seen the world and been changed by it.

Call me shallow, call me dependent on material things, call me whatever. But I've been pretty mad.

I have some stuff on Facebook, which helps ease the sting of my life in photos disappearing in the span of what probably amounted to a five minute job on my house. I have a few CD's of photos that I made pre-Facebook. Everything else is gone, probably already wiped off the hard drive so the thief can do whatever it is with my laptop they so desperately needed to have for themselves.

I have come to accept it, but I am not alright with it. A little perspective helps too. I have a roof over my head, I have my husband, and we are fine. With the exception of memories,  every item that was taken is replaceable.  Nobody was physically hurt, and we learned a valuable lesson. Worse things could have happened, and worse things DO happen every single day.  Thankfully, one of those worse things didn't happen to us.

And now, since the link to my blog was a bookmark on my laptop, perhaps the thief has at least broadened their horizons to the world and is enjoying some leisure reading. So this one is for you, Thief.

Dear Person of Ill Repute Who Did Not Learn the Kindergarten Lesson of not Taking what doesn't Belong to You:
The laptop you stole was four years old, the screen isn't original, and the battery only holds a charge for a whopping 14 minutes. The new cord I bought for it probably won't last much longer, either.
The hotspot device you thoughtfully took to ensure you would be able to access the internet with my laptop. Really? You had to have known that the service would be cut off immediately. Enjoy the paperweight.
You left the charger behind for the camera you stole, so unless you can find another one to steal, you will probably have to actually pay for that. (*gasp!*)
I will leave the other items unmentioned, because you have either already used them or broken them. If you try to pawn them, we will find out your dirty little secret, so maybe best steer clear of the pawn shops.
Above all else, I hope you realize you were wrong and do something to make up for it. Maybe not to us, but to someone. Else, it will come back to you, in one way or another, one day. God, whether you believe in Him or not, does not and will not honor what you did.
That is a guarantee.

Also, if you come back, I have a 4 inch stiletto that my mother disdainfully refers to as my "lady of the night" shoes and I will not hesitate to use it somewhere on your body.

Hey, I had to get resourceful. You took everything else!

Guest Post: Has Your Travel Bug Bitten Yet?

 The following is a guest post by Kate, a reader who reached out to me and asked if I would consider hosting. When I saw what she had in mind, I didn't think twice, as just days prior I had found out some news on a little stick and was in the midst of freaking out. Her post was a little bit of a relief/reality check for me and I am happy to share it with all you. Enjoy!

I do think that you should only regret the things you've haven’t done as opposed to those that you have.  I try to not to miss opportunities to do things when I can because I hate regretting anything. 

Unfortunately travelling is one area where I do have big regrets.  There is part of me now that wishes I’d made more effort to travel when I was young, carefree, didn’t have a mortgage to pay, little mouths to feed, and rocked a bikini! (Well, at least I looked better in one then than I do now). 

I now feel that my poor Passport has been well and truly neglected. The travel bug never really caught up with me in my younger days.  I didn’t feel the compulsion to grab a backpack and go off trekking around the world after I finished college/university like most of my friends.

I had different priorities at the time (which I don’t regret because my life would be very different otherwise).  I met my husband at 19, we bought our first house, got married a couple of years later and I carried on studying until I was 26. By the time I’d finished my degree, diploma and professional training we were both itching to start a family, and now here we are.

Now, I have the most responsibility I've ever had in my whole life, a husband, two small people, a dog, a house and a sizeable mortgage to go with it, and a new business.

Never have I felt the urge to drag my suitcase out of the loft as strongly as I do now. My travel bug has finally arrived. It’s taken its time, but it’s here! And do you know why it’s arrived now, of all times?

It's mostly because of those little people I gave birth to.  I’m raring to pack our suitcases, get out there and show them the world. They see everything so differently to us. They are astonished by the simplest of things.  New places are far more impressive and exciting when you discover them with toddlers. Toddlers don’t rush. They take in the most microscopic detail of places and objects and if something looks good, they eat it! Although, that’s something I won’t be encouraging so much of, unless it’s tasty looking food.  

And that’s exactly why I want to get out there right now. I want to visit as many places, countries and continents as we can while they’re still innocent enough to see all good in people and before they become tainted by politics, religions and other controversies.  I know they actually have a lot to teach me. They help me to see things from a totally new perspective.

There’s been a few moments lately, that have also made me realise that I’m really eager to take them out into that big wide world so that they have an education, aside from that sat behind a desk at school. Yes, I know there’s a lot for them to learn there, probably most importantly social skills and interacting with their peers. But I think the actual skills learnt by travelling are hugely under estimated by a lot of people.

One thing I have learnt is that life experience is worth a lot.  As is, experiencing lots of different cultures, customs and traditions. Not only knowing what these customs and traditions are and what happens, but truly understanding them.  I don't think there's any better way to do that than to meet people who practice and believe in those customs etc, really get to know them and understand their way of life.

So, these little people are the reason that my travel bug has arrived (very unfashionably late).  Unfortunately, they’re also the reason that our ability to go off travelling is severely hampered. Our income has been dramatically slashed during the last 3 years while I’ve had long periods of maternity leave. Our living costs are now the highest they’ve ever been and now, NOW I’m feeling the biggest urge in my whole life to go travelling. The irony is not lost on me!

I have also learnt a lot since having the first of the little ones 3 years ago. I now appreciate that, while enjoyed the holidays I had in my younger days immensely, the ones where I took time to chat to, and get to know the locals have much more significance than those where I just went and lay on a beach for a week.  Those holidays might well have been exactly what I needed at the time but there were definitely some missed opportunities there to see more of the countries I visited, find out more about the people, and the photos I took, aside from one or two lucky shots, were also extremely rubbish!

Now I want to make up for that.  I want to show my children the big wide world to make the most of this travel bug while it’s sticking around.  Plus, they’re all packed and ready to go!


Kate is a proud mum of two tiny tearaways and a keen writer who works with the likes of Electric Dialogue and No 1 Traveller, a UK luxury airport lounge company. 

This Spring, the Ultimate Journey Begins

Last spring, I was pretty excited about spending half the summer in Nicaragua volunteering, eating delicious food, making new friends, having revelations about my travel self, and doing cool things. All of the above was accomplished and I feel pretty lucky to have had such an experience.

This spring, I can top that journey. Guaranteed.

It's gonna be quite the epic trip. It will cost tons of money, I won't be booking a return ticket, and it's completely uncharted territory for me.

Umm....I am gonna have a baby.

True story.

I have known since early September, but I have been much too busy attempting to wrap my head around the fact that I will be someone's mother to tell anybody anything.

You see, I have never been the girl who spent her free hours daydreaming of her wedding, her Prince Charming, and the babies they would have together. Quite the opposite, actually. I spent most of my time delaying all of those things and instead, traipsing off to lands near and far and daydreaming of those, instead. To compound matters, the level of repulsion I feel for the acts of childbirth and breastfeeding (yes, this blog just went there) is nearly absurd. I might have a phobia or something. Please don't write and tell me how beautiful they are, because quite simply, they are not. I am fully aware that both are necessary and life-giving, but to me, both are barbaric, savage and well, just plain gross.

So what finally pushed me over the edge into pregnancy and impending motherhood?

Let's be honest and tell the truth.  When the idea of spending half the summer in Nicaragua occurred to me, I delicately broached the subject with the husband, who, didn't bat an eyelash when responding: "I would be pretty OK with you going if when you came back we could start trying to have a kid."

So yeah, I exchanged my uterus for summertime in Nicaragua.  Don't judge me. Besides, I needed something to force me to make the plunge. I am 31 now, I would have probably hemmed and hawed over this for as long as humanly possible if I didn't have motivation. I went, I saw, I did, I returned, and now, NOW, the remaining part of the bargain is in full swing. When May comes, I will be a mother.

But nothing could prepare me for the moment when I looked at the plus signs on the multiple pregnancy tests and stared, in shock.  Because really, nothing can prep you for that moment. Shock is where I remained for two days. On the third day, I cried the ugly cry, convinced my life was over and that I would never travel again and my poor passport would die a tortuous death.  On the fourth day, I decided that I was angry and called a best friend and let loose a string of  profanity that would push both of my living and healthy grandmothers much closer to the grave. On the fifth day, I woke up feel utterly peaceful and named him. (I am convinced it's a boy).

Since that fifth morning, I am still adjusting. I am no longer cursing at my friends (God bless them) or in shock, but this is big for me and thank God it takes babies 40 weeks to develop. I need every single one of those weeks. I swing from peaceful acceptance, to resigned acceptance, convinced that my traveling days are over, that I will become irrelevant, that I will cease to be me and enjoy the things that make me "me."

Some people have the maternal glow, the joyous anticipation, and ecstasy of knowing they will soon be a parent.

But not everybody does, and I think that's OK.

But here is what I do have: an amazing, supportive, and loving husband who couldn't be happier that we are taking this plunge together. I am beyond blessed to have him. I have a wonderful network of supportive family and friends who get me, and who say "Claire, it's ok to feel the way you do." I also have the blessing of being someone's mother. Although, to be clear, it is that very thing that terrifies me, almost as much as doing the things necessary to deliver a baby.

I have five months to find a more pleasant, dignified, and ladylike method of childbirth.

And you know what? I will travel again. Just not in the third trimester. 

The Winner, a Tiny Rant, and then I'll Leave You Hanging.

I really need to get in gear on multiple fronts in my life. Not the least of which is to refrain from my leaving all 33 of my readers hanging when it comes to announcing the winner of giveaways. Well, wait no longer. It is American Thanksgiving weekend, the turkey has been consumed (with more coming this evening), the cleaning has been done, the giant television purchased at an ultra-low price during Black Friday shopping, and now, just mere moments ago, the "husband picking the winner's name out of a Ziploc bag" has just been completed.

I should devote an entire post to Black Friday madness in America. Ridiculous. Some people in the world are starving and fighting over rice. Not here. My greedy fellow citizens fight over DVD players and the DVDs that go with them. I love my country, but THIS, this, I cannot condone, identify with, or find humorous. I feel a rant coming on, so I will end it now.

Oh, did you want to know the winner?!

DC Dana, COME ON DOWN! 

She writes her own blog, and she lives in, you guessed it, Washington D.C. Anyway, for those of you who didn't win, never fear. You can still visit Reese over at her blog and, conveniently, she has just posted about all the new jewelry she has designed just in time for the holidays. And, she is running a special right now, so get on over there and scope it out!

And finally, you *might* want to check back here Monday for a Giant. Huge. Life-changing. blog post.

Sometimes, Travel Rears Back and Slaps you in the Face

Today's title is a little dramatic I suppose. But it's kinda how I felt last weekend. 

Theme parks close for the season. Christmas tree farms close for the season. Pools close for the season.
Apparently the southern half of my state also closes for the season.

Hmmmmpfffff.

Last weekend, a good friend and I set off for Part II of the Best of West Virginia Road Trip. The friend in question was the "I"m so stressed about turning 30 that I will take all of my friends to Istanbul, Turkey to drown my sorrows celebrate" and Part I was a journey I never wrote about.  (For some reason, I was too snobby to write about anything other than foreign countries when I first started writing this blog. I hadn't yet accepted the idea of adventures in my own backyard).

As I mentioned before, I grew up here, but did my best to ensure that I never saw much of the state, preferring the big cities and exotic locales of places like.........Philadelphia. But the first time I journeyed around the state, I immediately fell in love with my home and became a true fan of the Wild and Wonderful-the good, the bad, and the ugly. Anyway, this post is not about that trip. This post is about the sequel trip.

We set a weekend to go, made a loose itinerary, and then promptly made no plans, made no phone calls, nor did any research until the morning of departure.

And by morning of departure, I mean, we did not start researching vital details until approximately 30 minutes after pulling out of the driveway and headed in a westerly direction. I live in the far extreme eastern part of the state, just under an hour from Washington D.C. We were headed to the far western part of the state, clear over to the blasted Ohio River and Blennerhasset Island State Park.

The very same Blennerhasset Island State Park that had just closed for the season a mere four days earlier.

Since when do state parks close? Since Halloween, apparently. But that wasn't the only place that calls it quits post scary holidays.

It was at that moment that my friend tossed the Crackberry to me, accompanied by a gasp of dismay that did not make me feel particularly hopeful that Blennerhasset was to be our only bump in the road. On the contrary.  Our next stop-the exhibition coal mine-the ONE THING I had my heart and soul set on?

Closed for the season, a mere four days earlier.

I could feel a fit, as in hissy, coming on.

And so this is how the entire weekend went. Plan C, D, and E materialized, and then, just as quickly, vaporized.
The TransAllegheny Lunatic Asylum? You guessed it. Closed for the season, a mere four days earlier.
The glass-blowing demonstration in Weston, WV? Last one in  30 minutes, when we were still an hour away.
The Blenko Glass factory in Milton, WV? No tours on Sundays. We were there on a Sunday.
The Tex-Mex restaurant that my friend promised was well worth a stop? Not just closed for the season......noooooo..... closed permanently. FOREVER.

Various power and water outages at both overnight locations merely added insult to injury. 

Hawk's Nest State Park

SERIOUSLY?!!!

After the third travel slap in the face, all I could do was laugh. And find Plan F, G, and H.

We managed to salvage the weekend. Sulking is acceptable for only five minutes. Then it's time to buck up, and find the adventure in the misadventure. Enjoy a few pics of what we did manage to find to keep ourselves occupied.

It seems like I only have issues when traveling in my own state. Remember when I came home without any of my luggage? 

Pt. Pleasant Mothman pose. Creepiest little town in all of WV. Ever seen "The Mothman Prophecies?"

In case I wasn't sure where to pose in the glass museum

Our beautiful state capitol-Charleston, WV

Dressed and ready to kill.......something.

Hillbilly Hot Dogs. As featured on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives on the Food Network. The bus is the dining room.

Oh, the People You'll Meet!

Ok, so I wrote this yesterday, while it was actually October

I am livin' the dream today. Today, while it is still October, on a Monday, I am relaxing at home when I should be at school. That is because an unexpected pre-Halloween snowstorm has knocked out my school's power and therefore, the children cannot learn. There has not been an October snowstorm since 1979, before I was even born. Thank you gods of snow and electricity for waiting 32 more years.  Now, let me assure you, I truly love my job. Love it. But after spending six years as a substitute teacher and agonizing over every snow day or holiday because it meant less money to cover my bills, I feel I have earned the right to be gleeful, joyous, even ecstatic, about days off.

Besides, it gives me time to catch up on your blogs, as well as my own. I know you've missed me. Don't deny it.

I have been thinking for a while now about the people I have "met" while blogging whose stories, while different from my own, are so very similar. We all love to see the world and simply can't get enough of the adventure that is travel.  So this post is dedicated to all of you reading this (insert mushy air hug here), but I want to highlight one of you in particular. And I am giving something away so let's move on past the mushiness and get down to business. Oh, and the book from my first giveaway actually made it to Kalyan  in India, thereby restoring my faith in the United States Postal Service. My faith was previously lost when a random postal worker STOLE some books out of a package sent to me from Arizona. Yes, I said STOLE.

So since I started blogging three years ago, I have encountered people who have traveled to Antarctica, or have settled down in Moldova, and  still others who recount their adventures from Washington D.C. There have been regular commenters, and there have been random commenters. I love them all.  I thoroughly enjoy the glimpses of your life on the other side of the world, or just down the road from me. Shivya from A Shooting Star keeps me informed and wanting more from India, while Kristina seems to never have a dull Vagablond moment wherever she is (Turkey right now). I am waiting for Scott to take the Shirt off his Backpack and depart on a RTW in a few months, and I found a book I must buy from Fearful Adventurer. Pretty cool huh? I have never even met any of you people.

Love these!

But there is one fellow blogger whose been a constant here and you can find her comment on nearly every one of my posts. She just might get the award for Most Faithful Reader Whom I Have Never Met (Yet!). She has been there since just a few posts after my First Post Ever and has been around ever since. We started emailing after I bought some jewelry from her new shop and I feel like our "blendship" (blog friendship!) was settled. If I am ever in Italy, Reese will be the first person I contact.  Anyway, if you have never stumbled over Rambles with Reese or her pretty cool new shop on Etsy, you should. If fact, I am giving you the chance today. For my birthday, she sent me an online gift certificate worth $15 USD to her shop.  Since I already own some of her goodness, I am passing it on to one of you. (She said this was ok-and no, I don't normally give away people's gifts to me) All you need to do is leave me a comment and share a link to another blogger you like/appreciate/love/follow and you will be entered. I am always looking to read new material, plus it always helps when you spread the love. Guys, don't be afraid to enter this. Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Diwali is just around the corner.

Reese makes everything herself and she does a pretty darn good job. I ordered a bracelet and earrings, and I love them. She ships it fast and her prices are extremely reasonable. If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you know that I like to......spend as little money as possible. There. We will just leave that at that. If she was doing this when I got married, my entire bridal party would have been outfitted in a sweet, sweet style. The pieces are simple, classy, colorful.  Plus, it's also really fun to get packages from other countries that have lots of stamps on them. I can't deny it.

So what are you waiting for? Go and browse. Send Reese some love-she's a pretty nice person.  If you don't win, dry those tears and click "purchase" anyway. Reese will thank you, and so will I.

You have until Monday 11/7 at 5 p.m  EST to enter. The winner will be chosen via the trusty "husband picking your name out of a Ziploc bag" method. 

PS-Apparently Diwali just passed. Must brush up on my cultural holidays. Thanks to Payal for mentioning this.

Philadelphia, I Love You

As I proclaimed in a recent Facebook status update, I have country roots, and I have urban roots. If you have been hanging out here for any length of time, you know my country roots lie square in the Wild and Wonderful beauty of West Virginia. (Although to be fair, it's not that reeeeally that country where I live. Wait, never mind. Yes it is). It took me a while, but I grew to love it here and here is where I shall remain for the foreseeable future.

My urban roots on the other hand, were not established until the ripe age of 17 when I went off to college, fresh-faced and clueless about most of life. I chose to attend Eastern University, just outside of Philadelphia. Nice suburban campus, twenty minutes to downtown. By the time I went to college, I had spent more time in foreign countries than I had in big cities, so count me in as a wide-eyed wanderer. My very first memory of a big city still leaves me amused and confused to this day. See if you can explain this one:

First Saturday morning on campus. I was piled into a van with a bunch of other freshmen, headed to begin our semester of required community service. It was my first venture out in my new city and I was craning my neck out with window when I happened to spot THIS scene on the sidewalk:  It was early morning. There was a very handsome young man walking down the street. Head held high, shoulders back, walking with a purpose. He had no shirt on, nor was he clad in pants. He did have a very nice briefcase, very nice dress shoes (wingtip perhaps?) dress socks, and boxers.  He was also carrying a briefcase. He did not look to his right or his left, he was on a mission. This man was definitely very secure in his near-nakedness. I was instantly mystified. Who on earth does this?  Nobody else in the van seemed to really care or notice, but I needed this to make sense.  I came up with two scenarios.

1) His clothes has been stolen after a one night stand. He was on his way home and had no money for cab/bus fare. 
2) He had just been robbed, was really embarrassed about it, and was attempting to pass his outfit off as the new normal. I am telling you, there was no shame in his game. That man was confident,  head held high and no clothes on to speak of, and a briefcase. 

Wooowwwwww. This place was wild. I was HOOKED!
And that is the moment where I threw off my country roots and embraced the city life. I quickly declared my major as urban development and began attending classes on EU's downtown campus.

Philadelphia is where I learned to:
A) Love all things food.  From Pat's Cheesesteaks on the gritty south side, to Penang in Chinatown, to the pretzel factory at midnight, my love affair with food was cemented here.
B) Drive like a woman on fire. Philly traffic is where my hatred of gridlock reached epic and fiery proportions, and I learned to weave, cut people off, honk my horn, and slam on my brakes with the best of them
C) where I learned that white girls can actually dance if they just follow the beat of the music.  18 to party, 21 to drink nights at various clubs were in abundance, and I made sure to frequent them as often as possible. Especially on school nights, so that I could ensure academic success.

Ahhh Philly, I love you.

I love to return as often as possible and last weekend was one of those opportunities. We had a wedding to attend and it was very nearly like old times. I ate cheesesteak, thoroughly enjoyed Malaysian curry and roti canai at  Penang, and my husband was white-knuckled in the passenger seat beside me as I determined to beat everybody else on I-76 to where ever they happened to be going.

I have lived in Washington D.C and Atlanta since college, and while I love both of these cities, neither holds quite the pull that Philly does for me.  I embraced it all- from the 'hood to the grit to the glam, I had found a place I loved.

And still do. 

What about you? Where do you love to go back to, and why?

A few random pictures for you

Occupy protest. Don't see this in WV.

City hall with William PENN at the top. Thanks Jonathan Hobbs for the correction to my glaring oversight.

The beautiful bride and crew at Bartram's Garden

A Little Shame and Embarrassment Abroad

We have all been there. Embarrassment happens and we find ourselves scarlet-colored and shame-faced. The moments that happen abroad though, can find us with an extra deep hue of red and sense of mortification.

"What if they think all __________(insert nationality) act like this?
"What if they think I am THAT tourist?"
"Why is there toilet paper coming out of my pants in the middle of this bus station?"

I bring you three of my most embarrassing moments, all experienced on foreign soil.

1. The "I don't care if you're kosher!" incident.
This one occurred at the ripe age of 14, a time when not many of us know very much about life or love, or about the kosher diet of  Jews. The location was Israel and I was on a tour with my mom, best friend, and some members of our church. It was the second time out of the country for both me and my best friend and we were living the life. We thought we were pretty hot stuff and we took that hot attitude wherever we went. Including to lunch one day, where my friend attempted to order butter to go with his bread. Acting appropriately as only teenagers can,  it was our assumption that our every wish would be granted, in life and especially in restaurants. Imagine our shock then, when the nice lady serving our lunch denied the request for butter in an incredulous tone-"But we don't serve butter. We are kosher!" This little piece of information was digested by both of us with confusion and a sense of  indignation. But..... but....WE are not kosher, therefore our need for butter should be fulfilled!  Right? Of course not. We were in their country, eating their food, abiding by their customs. Ahhh, fourteen year olds are clueless, aren't they? My friend decided to voice his outrage by informing anyone within earshot....(brace yourselves)....
"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE KOSHER!"
Oh. No.He. Didn't
Did he just announce that for the whole kosher restaurant to hear?
Affirmative.
Odd looks ensued. The nice lady huffed. It seemed like all conversation within a two mile radius stopped.
I wanted to crawl under the table.
She probably spit in our food.
 I may have been just 14, but I did know that  telling someone that their religious dietary restrictions mean nothing to you was ummmmm....crossing the line.
Shame face.


2. The "Lost in Translation" incident.
I actually devoted a whole post to this one-my second post ever on this blog. It was my first time in Myanmar. I was living the life, thinking I was pretty hot stuff and generally behaving as without a care in the world. If that sounds similar to Embarrassing Moment #1, it is, except now I was 24, not 14. Burmese is not a language I ever intend on learning, let's be honest. There are way too many circlely looking letters and tonal sounds. But I thought I should at least master a few phrases. I happily learned "Let's go!" and used it quite liberally-on public transportation, amongst the group I was with, and towards the Burmese friends I made. I did this for approximately eight days before one of the aforementioned friends kindly and finally informed me that the way I was pronouncing it actuallllllly meant something else.
What, pray tell, did it mean then?
With a giggle, Mii Mii whispered to me on the crowded bus "I have black teeth!"

Well isn't that just fantastic?

3. The "Inappropriately Dressed" Incident.
A few years ago, I spent two months in southeast Asia. I hung out in Thailand, Myanmar, and hopped over to India, but most of my time was spent in Bangladesh. It was my first time on that side of the world and each experience was wilder than the last. I attended quite a few weddings while there and was happy to do so-I loved dressing up in a sari, watching the dancing, and eating the food. Loved it. Imagine my surprise one evening when I out for a little neighborhood stroll with a friend and we heard a commotion coming from a nearby home. Of course, we just had to find out what was going on and craned our necks to peek over the wall. We quickly realized it was a wedding and tried to scoot on past.

Too late.
We were spotted and exuberantly invited in. I was wearing sort-of clean sweatpants and a green hoodie with a rainbow on it. My hair was a hot mess, as it usually is when I am in foreign countries. My friend wasn't looking much better. Going into the wedding was absolutely unthinkable and we thanked them and pointed to our clothes and attempted to continue on our merry way.
They wouldn't hear of it and after approximately 15 minutes of polite arguing, we realized that we would need to attend the stranger's wedding reception or risk offending said stranger and possibly an entire country.
Siiiiiigh.
Our reluctant acquiescence was met with exultation and we were led into the reception where everybody, and I do mean everybody, was dressed to the 9's and looking beautiful and magical.
Everybody except us. I tried to slink past the guests of honor, never making eye contact, looking wildly around for the first corner in which I could hide. It's bad enough crashing a wedding, but crashing one in SWEATPANTS?!
Not gonna lie, we did get a few looks that night. Ones that I read as "Oh look at those poor ratty Americans. Don't they have any better clothes?" But mostly, the wedding guests were thrilled to have us join them. We stayed as long as was possibly polite and then hightailed it out of there.

I sent telepathic apologies to the bride on the way out.

What about you? What are your most embarrassing travel moments? 

The hair and sweatshirt. Same trip, but on a more appropriate occasion.

Lost Girls Winner and a Lazy Labor Day

I am finally getting around to posting the winner of my copy of The Lost Girls (read my review here). It has been a crazy week, causing me to miss my customary Monday posting.  Life happens.

So without further ado.......Kalyan over at Heaven's Garden is the lucky recipient of some girls.
 Hope he enjoys ;)

Woohoo! And thanks to all for stopping by and making my first little giveaway a success. I loved all of the book suggestions and will need to get started on them. Winter is coming and I will need some good reading.


On to other things:
We just celebrated Labor Day here in the US of A and our was a pretty lazy weekend. But I did venture out on a kayak, which requires a tiny backstory.

The number one question (or some variation of this) I was asked before and after my trip to Nicaragua was "How will/did your husband do without you for so long?"

Let me assure one and all, here and now. He did just FINE. To sum up, I arrived home to a refrigerator that still had the dinner I cooked the night before I left, and a new boat. Ok, a kayak.

But still.  Gross to the dinner and ???? to..... a kayak? He doesn't even like water sports.

I had an inkling of the boat, but was under the apparently wrong impression that he was going to wait until my return to purchase. I received a nice little surprise when checking the back account from an internet cafe in Granada that the boat had indeed made its arrival pre-wife's return.

I was completely miffed and stomped out of the internet cafe to find the nearest international phone so that I could place an irate  call to my husband. He of course did not answer, as he was probably out enjoying said kayak. By the time I finally reached him, I had had all sorts of time in which to fume, and rant, and rave, and vow things. One of those things I vowed was that I would NEVER, under ANY circumstances, EVER, go out on the kayak with him, or be remotely involved in any kayaking type activities. When I found out it was a one seater, this heaped coals upon the flames of ire (despite my vow to never use it, I still wanted to be asked, of course) and I made a new vow to refuse to even look at it.

Anyway, guess what I did on Labor Day?

Borrowed a friend's kayak, is what I did

The offending kayak and a pretty happy husband

A Sunny Tuesday in September a Decade Ago

I don't normally post on a Sunday, but today is special. I am putting aside my customary humor and travel adventures to give you something else.

 The frivolity of summer and the anticipation of fall came to a halt today as Americans reflected, prayed, worshiped, wept, remembered, and celebrated. We all know what happened on September 11, 2001. It is nearly impossible to be unaffected by it, whether positively or negatively, or whether or not you knew someone in the planes, in the towers, or in the Pentagon.

I was a newly-minted college senior and living the dream. That sunny Tuesday morning, I was puttering around my apartment just outside of Philadelphia, attempting to get ready for my first class.

My phone rang. It was my mother. Not unusual.

What was unusual was her first question, fired at me without even the briefest of hellos.

"Do you have the TV on?" 

I did not, but that would soon be remedied.

She insisted that I turn on the television immediately and what greeted me was confusing, horrifying, and bizarre. All at the same time.

The rest of the day is a blur. I honestly don't remember much of it except trying valiantly to contact my best friend who had just moved to DC for a semester internship. For hours I got busy signals and automated messages from the phone company.  By the end of the day, I had word that he was fine. One sweet relief in the midst of an ever growing national tragedy. I remember thinking on September 12th, that it was weird it wasn't September 11th anymore.

Life crept back into normal.  The events of that day impacted me, sure. But at 21 years old,, the world was mine for the taking. I had nothing holding me back, nothing to lose.

Ten years later, I am not that same person. Ten years later, this tragic drama holds more meaning and value to me than it ever did on that bright Tuesday morning in 2001.

The other night I was watching a program in which the events of that morning and the aftermath were told from survivor's perspectives. One story in particular made my gut wrench.

There was a woman whose husband worked in the South Tower, the second one to be hit. He called her after the North Tower was hit and before the second plane crashed and assured her that he was fine, but wasn't sure of what he should do. A few minutes later, his range of options became significantly limited.  He called her again, from the 105th floor, twenty floors UP from his office. She was instantly panicked-why was he above his office? Why was he still in the building? How was he going to get down? He told her he tried to get out onto the roof, but the door was locked. She begged him to try again. He promised her he would and put the phone down. He came back on and told her it was a no-go. He was by himself. There was nothing left to do.

He couldn't go down  and he couldn't go up. The realization that this would be their final conversation in life was suddenly present between them.

She said goodbye forever to her husband on the phone, watching his certain fate play out on the television before her.  Knowing that when she put the phone down,  the father of her children and her partner in life would be gone.

Can you imagine? I cannot.

Since that fateful day in September, I too, am now somebody's wife. Watching her story the other night was heartbreaking. I watched and cried, and then cried some more.

Since that fateful day in September, I now play the role of teacher. I do this in fairly conservative and largely homogenous West Virginia. There are certain pockets of anathema towards the ethnicity and religion that perpetrated this deed. But I cannot allow that in my classroom. Hate already finalized the events of that day, I cannot allow it to perpetuate. It is my job to encourage my students to consider the humanity of it all.

Life has changed in the last decade. I have changed.

Hold your loved ones a little tighter today.....and every day.