Inevitable Destiny

So, do you remember when that moment hit you... that horrible, horrible moment when you said to yourself, "Holy shit. I've become my mother." (or father, if you're a guy). I don't. Remember the moment, that is.

For me, that moment has been occurring my whole life. Ever since I can remember, folks have always been saying how much I look like my mom. Even when they confused me for a boy (with three older brothers I was a HUGE tomboy until I got out of high school) they STILL said I looked like my mom. And I always thought my mom was really cool, so the fact that people compared me to her was kind of a compliment!

Even when I hit 35 and started complaining about taxes and "these kids today" and the high price of [insert food item or commodity of your choice here] and that kind of crap, I didn't so much dread the thought of becoming my mother as much as I loathed the fact that I was GETTING OLD. "Shit. I'm saying things that OLD PEOPLE SAY!!! ACK!"

Now that I'm 40+, I'm not dealing with aging very well, but at least I know that if I am indeed becoming my mother, maybe things could be worse. My mom is a great old lady. She was a really AMAZING woman in her prime (airplane pilot, engineer, painter, could sail a boat, handy with tools), but even now, at 84, she's a great old lady. She's funny as hell, still loves to paint (mostly watercolors), plays bridge several times a week, does the crossword puzzle every freaking day, keeps up with world events, and likes a cold beer now and again.


Mom's sister, my Aunt Mary, is also very cool. Most of my friends know Mary from our annual Christmas party, and they think she is just about the hippest octogenarian they've ever seen.

And she is. Witty, urbane, stylish, and MAN can that woman smoke and drink! HA! She parties right up until the end with the young folk.

But mostly I love the fact that both of these fine dames have maintained their sense of humor and joie de vivre well into their golden years. So maybe I'll luck out. I figure I've got some pretty good genes working in my favor.

Why Vacations Can Suck

So, it's been 2 weeks since we came back from vacation in Palm Desert, and I'm STILL not back into the swing of things at work. Well, okay, that's not true. Yes, I'm back to the daily grind and plugging along as usual... but the "sh*t, I'd really rather be sunning by the pool right now" feeling still hasn't gone away.

Maybe it's the nicer weather that's around this week, or maybe it's the fact that these last two weeks have been crazy-busy, but I can't stop thinking about how much I'd really rather be on vacation!!!

Leading up to a vacation, that week prior is always horrible. Last-minute projects, loose ends to tie up, clients to appease, co-workers to fill in. Did I pack everything I needed to? Did I grab the rental car paperwork? Oh crap, where are my reading glasses? Sunscreen? Don't forget to go to the bank! Shit. I know I'm forgetting something.

The totally sucky thing about vacations, though, is that there's always an end. The fun starts to wane around Wednesday when you realize there are only a few days left. You keep shoving the thought to the back of your mind... but every once in a while it pops back in. Tick, tick, tick... every minute brings you one f*ing tiny bit closer to having to go back home.

Friday is the worst. "LAST DAY" you think to yourself. That night, you have to gather up all your crap that you've strewn around the condo... making sure you don't leave your swimsuit hanging on the back of the bathroom door, or your sunglasses next to the coffee maker.

This last trip was particularly excruciating. We'd survived a 7-hour delay in the DFW airport flying INTO Palm Springs. Yes, SEVEN F'ING HOURS we sat at the f*ing airport. Tornadoes had stormed through the city the day before, and ALL the flights were jacked-up. We were lucky we even got in on Saturday, but we were supposed to get in before noon, and didn't get there until 9:00 that night. Lost a whole damn day.

So, then we have a great week, with lots of drinking and relaxing and great meals out with fun friends and family. Cut to the trip home on the following Saturday... HEY, GUESS WHAT?? Our f'ing plane has mechanical problems! We're not taking off for another 2 hours. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee! Now we'll miss our connection in Dallas, so we'll get to sit there ANOTHER 4 hours and wait for the last flight out to Omaha! OH BOY!!!!! FUCK ME.

I guess I should be thankful that our luggage made it there and back. Last year they lost it. BOTH F'ING COMING AND GOING. But I swear I'm never flying through DFW again, or on American Airlines. They really pissed me off.

So, we get home LATE on Saturday, spend most of Sunday recovering, and then it's back to the grind again. Damn, I really hate coming home from vacations.

Guess I will just start counting the days until the next vacation in October. So, your duty between now and then is to keep my mind occupied with other fun stuff. GET ON IT already!