Weary

Fiorella is finally pulling herself together. The let-down from leaving the fun and jollities in Ohio, the desperation of of almost losing a flight in the airport, the frustration of trying to learn the new cell phone, the exhaustion from everything--they had all worn Fio down. Then there was the sinking back into the patterns at home. After taking Husband to his doctor's appointment, then driving down Round Rock on a fool's errand, then getting caught in a long line-up from a wreck down the highway, then making H-E-B $100 richer, Fio came home and collapsed.

But Husband and Doggie are now upstairs asleep, Fiorella has sorted out the last of her travel detritus (even finding her charge cord and plug-in), and her to-do list is sitting beside her on the couch. Tomorrow is another day

Still Pondering Mother and Driving

As Fio was speeding down I-35 at her usual eighty miles as hour, she suddenly wondered what Mother's life would have been like if she had ever learned how to drive. Would she have taken advantage of her mobility to make friends outside of PTA, the neighborhood, and the family church? Would she have been the one who picked up the cleaning and did the supplementary shopping instead of Dad? Would she have spelled Dad at the wheel when we drove up to Ohio and Pennsylvania to visit relatives?

One thing for sure, she wouldn't have had to use the bus to get downtown anymore.

Always Busy

When Fio was a child, she had dreams of seeing the world, just like all the TV and movies heroines, but once she got around to it--the family visited England when her kids were teenagers--she realized that she wasn't really interested in seeing the sights. Tower Bridge didn't interest her, castles bored her, the crown jewels looked crass. What she really wanted to do was drive down residential streets, check out Safeway, and connect with the everyone she saw, human to human. And if Fio ever visited a country that didn't speak English, you can bet she'd be doing her best to learn the new language while she was there.

Yep, your Fiorella is an odd duck. She's not content to look. She has to do.

Mal Voyage

Fiorella doesn't like traveling.

She doesn't like the pain and exhaustion caused by hauling around an overloaded suitcase on which she has incorrectly piled a heavy portfolio.  She doesn't like going insane on a a three-hour flight because the terminal vendors don't carry crossword puzzle books anymore.  She doesn't like her prepaid car not showing up at the NJ airport curb.  She doesn't like not being able to find her hotel room and being so exhausted that she has to sit down in the hall and lean her back against the wall  to rest.  She doesn't like having to live out of her suitcase for two days because the carpet in said room was soggy and it took a whole day for a second room to be available.  She doesn't like her prepaid car to JFK never materializing.  She doesn't like being scheduled with such a short time (an hour) between her arrival at DFW and the flight to Austin that, despite the Sky Lift, the doors were closed when she got to the terminal.

Oh, and she lost her glasses.

Small World

Daughter and Husband are heading out on their eight-month-delayed honeymoon tomorrow.  Husband and Fio had  a delayed honeymoon too, but it was seven years late.  And we went to Mexico while they're going to Europe for three weeks--France, Spain, and Germany.

When Fiorella was is college, the pundits kept talking about how the world was getting smaller.  Fio didn't believe them then, but she was wrong.  The world is MUCH smaller now.  While her parents traveled from Texas to Ohio en famille once a year at the most, Fio has traveled to New York or its environs solo three times.  And she and Husband have visited Older Son and his wife in Massachusetts, New Jersey, and Minnesota--and Younger Son in California,  Fio was even scheduled to visit Canada earlier this year, but the plane got stuck on the runway too long and she had to disembark.

Smaller and smaller. When's the next shuttle to Mars?

Travails of Travel

Fiorella was completely organized when she left the house, which meant, of course, that within fifteen minutes, she couldn't find her driver's license.
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Because of some medical problems, Fiorella is patted down by hand by airport security rather than being put through the magnetic imaging machine. The security guards always emphasize that they are patting down Fio's more feminine parts with the BACKS of their hands. Fio, who is past prime time, doesn't care if they feel her up. She just wants to get through the line and on the plane.
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Fio knows Husband truly loves her because he kept the newspapers for her so she could catch up on the comics when she got home. And she didn't even ask him to.

Travel Plans

The world has gotten smaller. Two of Fio's bosom buddies are out of the country right now. Friend Suzy and husband are, as usual, spending the summer in their native England, and Friend Marion and husband are visiting Ukraine with their son and Ukrainian daughter-in-law.

Fiorella would love to go globe-trotting too, but will have to wait till she gets a hefty book contract or scores a big lottery win.

Innocents Abroad

Growing up, Fio always planned to be a cosmopolite, but a brief seven-year delayed honeymoon in Mexico was as far as it went until she and Husband gathered up the kids, then twelve, fourteen, and eighteen, and headed off for England.

What Fio and Husband didn't know is that Brits are child-apartheid, as a British friend later told her. They don't take their children out in public. In fact, Friend Suzy said they go out in public to get away from their children.

Fio did notice that in a restaurant her family was always seated as far away from the rest of the other patrons as possible. And that just by playing a rousing game of Uno, Fio's kids cleared out the whole first class car of the Flying Scotsman. And that hers were the only cchildren in sight not wearing uniforms.

But she's glad they didn't leave the kids at home. Travel is education and education is the one thing that can never be broken, lost, or stolen. Her children's two weeks in England are part of them forever.

Elsewhere

Where our Fio/ would like to go/ some day/ some way:

1) Canada, to visit friend Nicole in Montreal and, if she's in residence, friend Marion in picturesque Guysborough

2) England, to visit friend Suzy in Northumberland, if she's in residence; also Ireland (the parts that don't randomly explode), Scotland, and Wales

3) Holland and Scandinavia, where she knows nobody; maybe France and Italy, which frighten her a little

4) India, maybe, although Fio is wary of teeming multitudes

5) The future, because she is unbearably curious about what will be happening a hundred years hence

Tight Squeeze

Greetings from Minnesota, where the living is easy. Yes, the temperature is in the 60s, the windows are open, and the air smells good. Fio is in hog heaven.

Can't say Fio enjoyed getting here. American Airlines has leg room only a Roloff parent could love, she and Husband were separated by three rows, and her way-at-the-back seat provided her a magnificent window view of a crack down the right engine casing. The plane also provided unnerving sound effects when the flaps moved and the wheels were let down. Husband, an airplane afficianado, noted the rusty, oil-stained flaps had a small piece of metal dangling loose.

And we're scheduled to return home on the same airline. Pray for us.

Patriotism

I consider myself a practical, even prosaic, person. I eschew mushy emotionalism, and patriotic jingoism leaves me cold. I know I am fortunate to live in the United States, but I always considered my allegiance to be logical rather than sentimental.

One winter, Husband and I visited Older Son and his wife in Massachusetts and checked out the historical sites--Massachusetts is chock-full of them. It was a bitter cold day when we drove to Concord bridge, and crunchy snow covered the ground about six inches deep. Grudgingly, I trudged up to the Minuteman statue to read the inscription:

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard 'round the world.

And I cried like a baby. Even now, rereading, I'm tearing up. I guess I'm nothing but a mushy sentimentalist after all.