Flying in the Rain

I’m getting on a plane in a few hours to attend some focus groups in Chicago  for a client, and I’m a bit on edge because of all the storm reporting from TV weathercasters over the past few days.

I’m grateful that I’m not facing the threat of killer tornados by flying to Omaha this week (as I did a week ago for a meeting).  But I am facing expected windgusts of more than 50 miles per hour.  And do you know how that feels when you’re in a 60-seater regional jet?

Like a tornado.

My husband called as he drove to work during a downpour that produced the predictable back-ups on main arteries leading from Northern Virginia to downtown Washington, D.C.  He thought it best to encourage me to plan on leaving for the airport a little bit earlier than normal, which is usually plenty early anyway because of my time compulsion.  ("Hate to be late" is my mantra).

So, I’ll leave in about 30 minutes, do a quick ATM stop (so I don't have to pay $5 in miscellaneous banking fees for using an ATM that isn't owned by my bank -- outrageous!)  and head to the airport where most of my time will be spent scouring the parking garages for a spot.  And then I’ll head into TSA’s security line, shoeless, coatless and fearless about the trip ahead (not).

I’m prepared for this trip, however; I’ve downloaded a movie, brought the Bose earbuds, and and am cautiously optimistic that the distraction of watching something on my iPad will keep me from having a stroke when the turbulence hits.

Pray for me.

An Anniversary

A year ago last week (give or take a few days), I began this little adventure in the blogosphere and it’s been wonderful beyond my very modest expectations.  Those of you who read this space from time to time (you know who you are, even if I don’t) have allowed me the great privilege of airing the occasional political rant, social opinion, or befuddled observation regarding parenthood, personhood and aging…and you’ve demonstrated  great patience, tolerance and encouragement for my writing.  I am truly grateful .

I’ve been posting less in recent months – not necessarily because I have less to say, but more because I’ve had less time for my scribblings.  That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t think of you and this blog often, even when I can’t quite carve out the minutes to spend on it.   But as I celebrate my second year with this endeavor, I hope I can continue to count on you to be on the look out for my odd little essays, and I, in turn, will resolve to be a more dedicated correspondent once again.

Until then, MrsSedd thanks you, thanks you, thanks you for reading!

 

 

 

 

The Case for Camp

I’m very excited that my daughter is going to learn how to be a leader this summer.  At camp.

Yup, my daughter is going to attend a camp in a beautiful setting (with a swimming pool, of course, and stables too!)  that really focuses on the importance of team-building, teamwork and the willingness to do what’s best for the group and for each other.  Like at McDonald’s.

Wow.  What a difference from the days of The Parent Trap and nasty girl practical jokes played on fellow campers that usually involved sticky stuff and sometimes S’mores.

Actually, my daughter’s camp will probably have S’mores, but it will also have some really cool chores too, like gardening and working with farm animals and bundling hay and who knows what else (cabin and latrine cleaning?)

In my view, this is going to revolutionize things in my household because my daughter (and her teammates, of course) will have to do things like cleaning, setting the table, making meals, etc.  Remember:  my kid has breakfast in bed most days.

When I told my daughter that I wanted to send her to this camp – a camp that one of her best friends attended last summer and loved – she expressed concern (primarily about milking and feeding farm animals, but not only that).  I countered with the “independence” argument; she wants to be more independent and learning how to do things is one of the prerequisites for independence.  Makes sense to me, but she’s not necessarily buying it.

Next up:  She has to pass the interview for attending camp.  (I passed as her parent, so I’m pretty sure she will too. The place isn’t free, afterall, if you get what I’m saying).  I’m counting on her turning in a stellar interview performance; her 3-week stay at this camp is essential for ensuring I don’t burn through all my annual leave so she can have the summer of her dreams (specifically, no summer school). 

Now I’ll only have 15 more days to cover, scattered throughout the months of June, July and August.  That’s equivalent to only 3 work weeks.  Sigh.

Wish I could go to camp.

MrsSedd@Sixty: Weary

MrsSedd@Sixty: Weary: Have you ever noticed that the relaxing – indeed, narcotizing – effects of vacation wear off almost within minutes of getting back to wo...

Weary

Have you ever noticed that the relaxing – indeed, narcotizing – effects of vacation wear off almost within minutes of getting back to work?

That’s how it’s been for me since my return from that land of rainbows known as St. Lucia in the West Indies.  Arriving home late and returning to the office early the next morning, I dug out from email and faced a road warrior reality of several business trips and new business presentations within days.  Days of early rising (5am-ish) and later hours (home by 10?) followed, dimming whatever “glow” I had earned during my time off.  Indeed, I have welcomed back my old familiar friends – a.k.a. dark circles, puffy eyelids and periodic bad humor.

Don’t get me wrong:  I’m glad to have a job and enjoy the work I’m doing at the moment.  But I’m just not as resilient as I used to be.

That’s why I’m already thinking about an August break at the beach in Delaware and the reality that we’re closing in on the half-year mark soon.  (Ok, in 2 months or so).  I find it helps me battle fatigue by focusing on future opportunities for relaxation.  Onward to the next vacation -- stat!!

Anyway, hope you’re fine and enjoying the first stirrings of springtime.  As for me, it’s time to get to work.