Jet Lagged and Lagging
July 26, 2007
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. We were on our way home from our vacation and decided to spend the night in New York and what a good move that was. We were both worn out. Travel is tiring, for sure, but travel abroad can really throw you for a loop. 6 p.m. felt like after midnight but we managed to find the show after futzing around a bit with the radio in our hotel room. While we listened we ate cheese and crackers and drank tiny bottles of wine all of which I'd stowed away during snack time on the plane. We both dozed off as the show wrapped up, fully dressed except for our shoes, and we didn't wake 'til early morning.
Not much has happened since. There was, of course, a bit of commotion at the airport when I was busted by the fruit dog. Mr. Sundberg had warned me that we'd be sniffed by a dog in customs to ensure that we weren't bringing fruit in from another country. I didn't pay much attention to him. Sometimes I don't, and pay for it later. Which I did. The fruit dog made his way down the line and when he got to me he just sat his hinder down and stared at my bag. I was pulled out of line and my bag was searched. There wasn't much but a couple of granola bars and some mints and a pack of gum. There was, of course, the Norwegian cookbook I'd picked up last week and read on the flight home, and the new sweater I bought for myself, my one special gift. It's navy and periwinkle wool lined with fleece, and about as Norwegian as I'm gonna get.
Well, the dog started whining and I explained to the lady that I'd hauled apples around in that bag for the past two weeks and she was understanding and it wasn't anything like the search I'd had in Europe, after which I abandoned the idea of getting a massage. Why spend the money when my trip to the airport came so darn close? To make matters worse, they confiscated my haircutting shears. The new ones I picked up to cut Mr. Sundberg's hair while on our vacation. I've cut his hair since we met, and didn't have time to get to it before we left. Figured there'd be an afternoon when he'd sit awhile. Now he looks a bit shaggy, which I rather like, but he's reminded me twice now to pick up new shears so I guess a haircut is on the calendar. Mr. Sundberg, of course, made it through every airport along the way without so much as a smile and a nod. Makes sense. He travels most every week and even called one of the pilots by name.
The kids are home now, too, after time with their grandparents. They seem content to simply be home this week. It's been a string of movies and reading and questions about what I'm cooking for dinner. Which reminds me. I've got to get groceries tomorrow, and stop by the drycleaner, and pick up our mail at the post office, and make some time for a nap. Though it's one time here, it's seven hours later where I was, and where a person has been matters, yes it does. It helps shape what you're about and has a lot to do with where you're going next. Which, for me, is back to bed. I'm jet lagged and lagging, and one must not lag for long.