Wow. I am still in disbelief that at this time, one week from today, I will be somewhere in Venice. I will have travelled from Phoenix to Newark, NJ, and spent my three and a half hour layover in gift shops, gathering magnets and postcards for my children, and sports bars sampling the local fare and sipping a celebratory beverage, while repeatedly thinking or exclaiming, "Oh my Goddess, I am really going to Italy!"
I will have then flown from Newark to Zurich, equipped with earplugs, headphones, a sleep mask, and J.K.'s extremely boring audiobook, Citizen something to lull me into a if-I-don't-sleep-I-won't-survive slumber. I will have packed as much fun and exploration as possible into my 1.5 hour layover, and have approximately 127 new photos on my phone, ready to upload to GrooveBook.
I will have cleared customs, had my passport punched, found my Tour Director, checked in to my hotel, met the fifteen other people in my group, and decided who I will avoid and who I will play with. Most importantly, I will have laughed. I will have loved. And, I will know that everything is, and will continue to be, fantastic.
I have finally hit that point where I have so many loose ends to take care of, and instructions to leave for the hubby, that I have no time to worry. Instead, I am excited, focused, and yes, calm.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Thr33 Saturdays!
Three Saturdays from now, I will be flying across the Atlantic Ocean, and landing in Venice. I am spending spring break with my painting instructor and sixteen other fortunate individuals on a Renaissance Art tour of Italy. Only, I don't feel so lucky.
Nerves. Nerves. Nerves. As someone who used to succumb to the myriad of mental pictures my anxiety would provide, I have to expend a lot of mental energy keeping the "what is the worst that could happen" demons at bay. Once, I leave for the actual trip, I am usually fine. This will be the first time in twenty years since I have crossed the Pacific, and twenty-five since I have crossed the Atlantic.
I was only fifteen and twenty years old, respectively, which accounts for the majority of my anxiety at the time. Now that I am much older, wiser, and secure, my main concern is being away from my four, beautiful boys and my partner-in-crime, Patrick, for ten days. I have never been away longer than a weekend at a Zumba Convention or further than Florida.
But, as I sit here and write this, I am unsure of what exactly I am afraid of, besides the unknown.
Nerves. Nerves. Nerves. As someone who used to succumb to the myriad of mental pictures my anxiety would provide, I have to expend a lot of mental energy keeping the "what is the worst that could happen" demons at bay. Once, I leave for the actual trip, I am usually fine. This will be the first time in twenty years since I have crossed the Pacific, and twenty-five since I have crossed the Atlantic.
I was only fifteen and twenty years old, respectively, which accounts for the majority of my anxiety at the time. Now that I am much older, wiser, and secure, my main concern is being away from my four, beautiful boys and my partner-in-crime, Patrick, for ten days. I have never been away longer than a weekend at a Zumba Convention or further than Florida.
But, as I sit here and write this, I am unsure of what exactly I am afraid of, besides the unknown.
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