Getting Along With Your Spouse While Traveling

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Blair and I are exceptionally companionable. We have a running joke—semi-serious—that we need to work on making friends because right now we spend all our time together and neither of us will have the proper support network in place should something dire happen to the other one of us. In short, we like hanging out together.

This doesn’t change while on vacation. I’m almost at the point where I can’t travel with anyone other than Blair. We’re on the same time schedule, have the same mindset about where to go and what to see, mirror each other in our sleeping and eating habits and are altogether very well suited for spending large chunks of time together.

But everyone has his or her breaking point. Ours is usually around Day 5. After 120 hours of constant contact, the love fest begins to break down. It usually begins with a “look.”

ME: “What?”

BLAIR: “What?”

ME: “Why did you give me that look?”

BLAIR: “What look?”

ME: “That look. The ‘I’m annoyed but not going to say anything about it,’ look.”

BLAIR: “I only gave you the look because of what you said.”

ME: “I only said what I said because of what YOU said about the thing.”

BLAIR: “I only said what I said about the thing because you were giving me a look.”

ME: “What look?”

BLAIR: “Huh?”

Yes, it’s not pretty and it usually goes downhill from there. We’ll spend an afternoon sniping at each other until we realize we’re in a foreign country far from home with only each other and we remember we came on this trip in the first place to spend time together and then he apologizes and it’s fine. =)

Hope you’re all busy appreciating the people in your life!

Ever The Self-Promoter...

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It’s embarrassing to admit but I’m taking several copies of my book with me on our trip. There is no logical reason for this as packing space is already tight and it may come down to making the call between the books or a fourth pair of black shoes (the only ones that go with that skirt), which is frightening. But more frightening is that I’m taking the books because…who knows? Maybe something will pan out.

I beg shops to sell the book in America but have this notion that I will show up on the shores of England, whip out the book and hear bells toll in ancient castles as shopkeepers across the UK weep, “We’ve been waiting for a jolly-good cat book like this one. Thank the Queen you’ve arrived!” (I doubt people living in the UK say, “Thank the Queen,” but I’ve no idea yet what they do say, so thanking the Queen it is).

What am I going to do if I find a shop that actually wants it? Spend the shipping costs to ship 2 copies of one book to England? Ha! And yet…that’s exactly what I’d do. Because then I’d be an international author. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? Yes, this needs to happen. I’ll shove a cat book down some poor country storekeeper’s throat if I have to…

God Save The Queen.

Home or Away?

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Jerry Seinfeld has a comedy routine that is so “me” it’s like he spied on my life before he wrote it. It has to do with never being satisfied with what we have. When we’re home, we say, “We should get out more.” And then when we’re out we say, “We really need to get home.”

That’s me. I have strong homebound roots that, when stretched too thin over time or distance, start to unravel and cause me to become homesick. I’m good for about 8 days of travel and then, sitting in a four-star restaurant eating a dish that took more time to prepare than I’ve spent cooking in my entire life, I start to think how much I like eating cereal out of a bowl at home. Or how a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich would hit the spot. I get misty-eyed thinking about my pillows and my bathroom with the fan that runs too loud and the toilet handle you have to jiggle to get it to quit running. And don’t even get me started on the cats. If I think about my babies home alone, wondering where their Mommy is and why no one has been there to comb them or offer them kisses, I’ll hijack the nearest cab to the airport.

But right now, being home, and writing this, I can’t wait to get away. Problems, stress, bad eating habits—all will disappear when we’re in that magic place called “away.” (Okay, maybe not that last one but a girl can dream). Life will be better, love more intense, and I will have nothing but good hair days. That is the magic we dream of in being “away.”