Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Deep Breath in . . . and Out
We’re starting to get back on track after the post-surgery up-in-the-air-ness. I’m actually getting organized. And I’m still behind. We have yet to send a bridal shower gift (for my cousin’s shower . . . which was two days ago) and I have some CDs to send out (which I have yet to burn). Then there’s a seemingly endless list of things that I have to accomplish this week. Of course, most of those things will probably show up on the list of things to do next week. But there will be no list for the week after next. Why, you ask?
We have a big ol’ family trip planned. The wife and I are taking Mia to see relatives up north . . . most of whom she’s never seen (and some, like great-grandparents who don’t travel, she may never see again). Unfortunately, we won’t be in any one place very long, as we have several stops to make. Most of them rural. We will, however, be breezing through NYC on a metro-thrift-shopping jaunt / hopefully-not-plagued-by-sleepy-toddler adventure. We’ll get to wave at Boston from our limo*. Albany is one of our stops, but I don’t think we’ll be spending a lot of time there. (The other “stops” would be places you people of the Internet drive past or through doing about 70. Seriously, when we visit my grandparents, we’re in a traffic-light free zone. For days. Their town has a population of . . . a few. I think the sign coming into town reads: “Gilman, population more than a handful but less than a respectable keg party.”)
I’m really stressing about this trip (now that the surgery is in the past) because I’ve cultivated quite a fear of flying. I haven’t flown in almost four years. It’s not the terrorists I’m afraid of, it’s the random crashing of planes. The fact that there hasn’t been a major (domestic) airline disaster in a long time makes me even more uneasy. Add to that the preparation for the multitude of non-prepare-able issues that will certainly arise while flying with Mia. Y’know, because we’re trying to break her of the urgent shrieking/whining habit she’s latched onto when trying to get our attention, or Michelle’s last unmolested lip balm. I have a feeling she’s gonna own us on that plane.
Mia will hold all of us hostage.
We’d better pack more Cheerios in our carry-on.
* My mom is treating us to a limo ride from Logan to my aunt and uncle’s house in southern New Hampshire. I was a little saddened, though, to find out that there won’t be a guy waiting at baggage claim for us with a sign. No, we have to get our heavy-ass bags and go up two levels to the bus/taxi/limo area. I think the terrorists have won.