The world is divided into two kinds of people: those that suffer from motion sickness and those that don't. I get motion sick as a passenger in cars. And in planes, on amusement rides, on buses and in elevators. I've been like this for as long as I can remember, and motion sickness adds extra planning to all travel.
Cruises are out of the question - just the thought makes me nauseous.
Yesterday, B-man and I went to another family reunion...our second in just over a week. Both events have included a drive of two or more hours. Any time we take a driving trip, we plan ahead to decide who is going to drive and at what points. Our conversation yesterday looked something like this:
Me: So, how should we do the driving?
B-man: However - I'm always good to drive.
Me: Yeah, but I don't want to take a Dramamine at 10 am, so maybe I should drive on the way there and you should drive home.
B-man: Okay, you drive up - that's great.
Me: Yeah, but I kind of want to veg and relax today, so why don't you drive?
B-man: Sounds good.
Right before we drop Paige at doggy daycare, and before I take my chewable Dramamine, the conversation starts again:
Me: Okay, I'm going to need to drive 'cause I'm starting to feel sick.
B-man: That's fine, we'll switch when we drop Paige.
Me: Could you smooth it out a little until we get there?
B-man: The brakes on your car are kinda touchy.
Me: I know, but still...
Now I'm driving, but can't stop talking about it:
Me: Okay, this is better...sorry that I suck as a passenger.
B-man: You've always sucked as a passenger - I'm used to it.
Me: Thank God for Dramamine.
B-man: This is great - now I can play on Waze and track your speed and tell you when there's a cop ahead...cause you're such a badass.
Me: Yeah, a real lead foot over here.
B-man: Gotta watch you every second.
Me: Hey, you have to admit I'm a great passenger when I'm drugged on Dramamine and managing the munchies, right?
B-man: You are the queen of munchie management, it's true.
Me: Thanks, hon.
B-man: The exit you need is sneaking right up - you better change lanes.
Me: Thanks, Waze boy, but I've driven this route about a thousand times.
B-man: And if I was driving like you're driving, I'd have to pull over so you could throw up.
Me: Sorry, I'll smooth it out.
B-man: Luckily, it doesn't bother me, just making a point.
Me: It's those sensitive brakes.
B-man: I know.
What makes a successful trip? Dramamine and a flexible husband.
Photo from amazon.com
Amazing days must be acknowledged, like a great meal paired with the perfect wine. Today, in all aspects of my life, the universe opened. Obstacles disappeared. Epiphanies happened. Opportunities materialized.
Mourning doves are cooing.
I wore a perfume combo of Versace's Crystal Noir and Jovan Musk. Woody musk pinned down the precious nicey-niceness of Crystal Noir.
A perfume epiphany.
Picture from wikapedia.org
Feeling out of sorts and cranky. Woke up at 2:30 a.m. and never did get back to sleep. Tried to snuggle with B-man but got too hot. Because of hot flashes. Hot flashes fan the flames of cranky. Say that five times in a row. It will annoy you and bring on a hot flash.
I'm having a hot flash right now. Effing hell.
Just moved back into my newly remodeled office today. So excited to be there until I realized that nothing was hooked up...not my computer, not my phone, nothing. Which made me hot and sweaty and flushed and cranky.
Here's the thing about hot flashes. They can happen anytime and anywhere, but never when you need 'em. Like when I'm freezing in one of our hospitals, there is no hot flash to be found. No, they wait around the corner like the restaurant server that suddenly appears and spews out an enthusiastic, 'how's everything tasting?' just as you stuff an oversize bite in your mouth.
Hot flashes do that too as they announce to the world that menopause has arrived and now you're a crone. An old crone. A old hot crone. An old, hot cranky crone.
Don't mess with me.
Picture from charmedlegacy.wikia.com
B-man and I just returned from a family reunion at a beautiful national park. We loved it, which is saying something because I hardly ever love family reunions. Mostly because I'm an introvert, but also because there's too much time spent avoiding the family members we're supposed to love but don't even like. You know it's true.
This time, all the good people showed up, like hand-picking who I would want to see at a family reunion. Not all of my siblings could go, but my brother was there. B-man says my brother and I are like 'bookends' because we both have a quiet demeanor and we share some physical characteristics. Apparently, we walk alike, too. Mom drilled into all of us, 'stand up straight, throw your shoulders back and don't slump like you're waiting to get slapped.' So my brother and I walk like we're going somewhere very important to do things that are very important and we survey our surroundings as if everyone else is slumping around waiting to get slapped.
One of our cousins is living with a terminal illness. His cancer has run amok, out of the reach of chemo or any other treatment. In spite of that, he was able to participate and join all of our activities. Mom loved him and she and her sisters spoiled him as he navigated a rough childhood. He held a special place in her heart, and if she were alive today, it would hurt her see him so thin, struggling every day just to stick around a little bit longer.
Yesterday morning, the family met to have breakfast, close out this time together and say our final goodbyes. I saved the last goodbye for my cousin, knowing I will probably never see him alive again. After expressing our love and filling in for my mother the best I could, he said one final thing, 'you even smell like our family.'
Jovan musk...the smell of family.
Photo from fragrantica.com
