The Mariners Go to Ireland May 2011 travel blog

Ok, it is the night before we leave and I’m wound like a clock. For all you youngsters, clocks once had a series of numbers on a round face and hands that moved across it indicating time. Inside were springs and things (hey I’m old not a clock maker) and they needed to be wound up to keep the clock ticking. Someone has turned my springs to the fully loaded mark.

I’m just wondering if I’m the only person who gets likes this? It isn’t as if I have last minute things to do. Nope. I’m packed. Tomorrow before leaving for work I have to just toss my toothbrush, hair brush, and make up into my carry-on and I’m ready to go. I even have my clothes laid out that I’m going to wear. I hardly recognize myself with all this organization. The last time I went to Europe with one backpack; this time I have a camera bag, a carry-on duffel, and a huge duffel to check in that is teetering on the edge of being over loaded.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I don’t sleep most nights. Wicked bad insomnia. If you’re curious, the husband is sound asleep, snoring peacefully. If there is such a thing.

For all the excitement and planning (oh yes people, I have spreadsheets and lists galore), I’m actually starting to wig out. What if it pours the entire time? What if we miss all our flights? What if both airlines what to exact a pound of flesh because my duffel is too big? What if the IRA blows us up because the freakin’ Queen has to pick THE WEEK WE’RE IN IRELAND to show up? I can’t tell you how annoyed I’ll be if we get blown up by the IRA. If we do, I’d like you all to take a moment and write them a strongly worded letter describing how you’re rather put out by their exploding of us to bits. Ok, I’m not really worried about that part. But I could be if I put my mind to it.

I feel compelled, at the moment but it will pass, to send everyone my planned routes, stops, and other such things. Then you can all laugh and laugh when I pretty much scrap the whole “plan” when we get there because looking at my carefully crafted maps and spreadsheets would be too much of a pain in the ass. Oh, the life of the ADD afflicted. All take a moment to feel sorry for my husband. Think of it, he’s had to suffer endless moments of “what do you think of this? what do you think of that? Here, I have charts and grafts and a predictive model based on a series of complex algorithms that will help ensure we have the best vacation EVER KNOWN TO MANKIND!!!” and then he gets in the car and asks where we’re going and my response will be “don’t know, my stuff is a whole 7 inches from me and reaching for it seems like the most monumental effort anyone has expended ever in all of history, so let’s just go... that way.” I swear I’m gonna try to behave. And my graphs are SOOOO pretty. (relax, there aren’t any charts or graphs, I haven’t gone THAT nuts... yet). The super weird thing? This man allows me to drag him all over the planet knowing how I am. Kinda tells you something about HIM now doesn’t it? Hmmmmm. He’s hardly the most patient person in the world (right kids?), but I guess he doesn’t display it anywhere else cause he has to save it all up for living with me. If that isn’t love, I just don’t know what is.

I’d like to say these journal entries will get better once we’re actually traveling but... I don’t want to start off this effort with false hopes. But stick with me, you just never know.

Tomorrow, airport runs and off to New Jersey! Can’t wait to see everyone.

A big special thank you to Ben, Therese, and my Mom. Thank you for looking after my crew while we’re away, and stepping in last minute. Good luck with all that. ;)

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