Go Time

Oliver, 4 months, ready for the big trip.

Tomorrow my au pair family plans to ship everything they own back to the States and head off to Italy with just the clothes on their back. OK, not quite -- we're actually taking quite a lot in the van, along with the giant golden retriever -- but it will doubtless be a long, hard day. We're planning to leave at around 4:00, which means it will actually be around 6:00 when we hit the road for three weeks of vacation. It will probably be emotional to say goodbye to the neighbors and the house of two years. The movers will pack stuff they're not supposed to pack and the house will echo when Oliver announces he's hungry. Let me guess -- as soon as we leave, the boys will immediately be starving, the dog will breathe in my face, and we will immediately (and forever) lose five important things in the melange of luggage piled to the ceiling. Yessir, here we go. 

Julie and Ian with the Italy vacationmobile.

The Night Before France

It's the night before I leave for France, and I'm trading in my chopsticks for a French dictionary. The adventure has started, or rather, resumed, after a brief intermission and much-needed time at home with my family.

A few years ago, I'd mummified the dream of going to Europe, and never dared to even think of living there. I wasn't short-changing myself, just being realistic.

But now, as another move is about to happen, my experience in traveling this past year has made me wise enough to try to temper my near-continuous shivers of excitement. The unanswered questions on the other side of the Atlantic are both thrilling and scary. There will be euphoria and tears, laughing and learning. But all this will get me closer to heaven and deepen my longing for it. It's 2:05 and I'm finished for tonight. The coming months will give me time enough to spaz out over the history, style, architecture and people of Paris. Until then...

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

J. R.R. Tolkien