NEW RELEASES
Amerei un sandwich di burro di arachidi e gelatina
I heard the bicycle chimes that signaled I had a text message. It was Ava.
“Where are we going to lunch tomorrow?”
“Rome,” I replied.
“Oh my goodness! That’s where I wanted to go!!!”
“We’ll picnic at Trevi Fountain so we can watch the pretty Italian men drive by in their Ferraris.” Doesn’t that sound lovely?
“!!!!!,” she texted back.
I immediately went to Orbitz. “Our plane leaves at 11:55. I booked 3 first class tickets with British Air. They’re supposed to be the nicest.” And really, if you’re going to have this fantasy, shouldn’t you go for the best?
“We’re set to stop in Dallas and London before we get to Rome,” I continued.
“I hope you charged them to Ed. He’d want us to be happy in this small way,” Ava told me.
“Oh no,” I answered, “I sent the bill to the dude that handles My Honey’s trust fund.” I have a very rich fantasy life.
Later I talked to Isabella and told her the plan. Understandably, she was excited.
“Don’t pack anything. We’ll buy what we need when we get there,” I told her.
Now, the only problems I can foresee are:
1. My passport is expired and Isabella doesn’t have one. She said we really should get on that and I concur.
2. The tickets are 17,076 a piece – but it’s round trip so that sounds worth it, right?
I think we should hold a bake sale or have a telethon or something. I’m setting up a Paypal link. Watch for it – consider it a charity tax deduction.
Since I moved to the southwest 12 years ago, I have turned into such a homebody! Everything I want or need is right here. Whenever I do get talked into taking a trip, I am always sorry. The first big trip we took after we moved here was a three-week-long trek to Alaska with our cousins who live in Banff, Alberta. When Rod was 16, he and a friend hiked the Alaska Highway, and he was just dying to revisit his youth! So I agreed. We drove 6800 miles on gravel roads, in the rain (most of the time)and took a couple of ferries along the Alaska coast. We ended up in Prince Rupert, B.C. late at night. I was still queasy from sea-sickness, and sooooo ready to go home. The next morning, as I was brushing my teeth, I saw on t.v. the second plane hit the World Trade Center. We had to leave to get back to Banff, so the only way I had to keep up with what was happening was the car radio. Unfortunately, we were driving through the B.C. wilderness, and I couldn’t get much for all the static. I cried all the way back.
The next morning, back in Banff, I told Rod that I wanted to GO HOME NOW! Too bad, because all flights were cancelled, and no one would rent us a car to cross the border. I was miserable, and I let everyone know it. Being stuck in a foreign country during a major catastrophy is horrible!
Rod tried to take my mind off things by suggesting that we all go to some galleries, and go out to lunch. We drove to the first gallery, armed with a box of Kleenex in case I started crying again. It was mildly interesting. The second gallery was a little better. It was there I saw a painting by one of my favorite Canadian artists, Neil Patterson.
I was still a little teary-eyed and sniffling, and Rod was getting a little impatient with me. He is Canadian by birth, and you know how stoic they are.
“Listen,” he said, “If you will just stop crying, I will buy you that Neil Patterson! Is it a deal?”
“Uh, o.k.,” I said, with a quivering lip.
The Neil Patterson did not make up for 9/11 for me, but it did teach me a lesson–crying works when you least expect it.
The last long trip we took was last May. That one was 7000 miles, in a car, with the dog. Believe me, Rod will never suggest it again.