On The Road Again
It’s that time again. Time to swallow several doses of dramamine and fly across the world. I have to admit I’m getting kind of excited about this trip. Not the actual “flying” part because much of it will be nothing but a blur. I’m looking forward to kissing my Mom’s face and practicing my Greek. It’ll be strange without my Auntie Berta there, but we’ll be staying in her home and it’ll feel like she’s still there.
Back through Newark to Athens. I’ll be in Newark at 4:40pm tomorrow and hopefully I’ll make it on to my next flight to Athens, which leaves at 5:30pm. You just never know what’s gonna happen. They barely leave enough time between connections to visit the ladies room, much less get to your gate on time. No passport checks or baggage checks…just a made dash through security and on to my gate. Pray for me. It’s not an easy thing to do with a dramamine buzz.
I’m checking two bags…one to bring back goodies. Nothing illegal. Just chocolate “Happy Hippos” and pictures and noodles and more. And…I get another stamp in my passport. How cool is that? I’m just sayin’…what’s a passport without some ink in it?
I’ll be back in a few weeks. I’ll blog from Greece. Don’t have too much fun without me.
Where’s My Passport?
Yesterday, as I was walking out the back door for work, a voice inside my head said, “Where’s your passport?” And, NO. I don’t usually hear voices.
A little back story: Last year when I was in Italy I bought a fabulous, leather backpack. It’s a beautiful thing. ;) Needless to say, we haven’t been parted, my beautiful backpack and I, except for really swanky occasions that require a more suitable accessory. Sunday morning, I emptied my backpack on the “Island of Cilantro,” (another story) and put my necessities in a sweet, little, black purse to match my suit. Hey…it was the Sabbath. I wanted to glorify God.
Anyway, I digressed so much I forgot what I was talking about. Oh yeah…my passport. So there I was heading out the door carrying the little, black purse, when I hear the voice. I stopped, put down my purse, and stuck my hand in my backpack in search of my passport/itinerary holder thing. I remember pulling off my leather glove to feel inside my backpack again. The contents were strewn all over the island and I didn’t see the passport holder. I picked up my backpack and shook it. Only change fell out.
I said to myself, “I must have left it at work.” Whew! And I went to work.
I got to my office and immediately started looking for my passport. Everybody who walked in to my office was notified I needed them to pray for me to find my passport. Chris LaMoreaux says to me, “Well, good thing you took a copy of it.” I cringed. A copy? No. I had no copy. I went outside and pulled my car apart. Perhaps it slid down the seats or got kicked under one. No. Not there.
Then I started thinking it fell out of my backpack and was covered in snow. Hello. I leave for Greece early Thursday morning and all that snow will not be melted in time. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I left for home to search again. It had to be somewhere. I just keep asking the Lord to show me where it was.
I get home, tear off my coat and gloves, and start looking. I check every room. Sofa cushions. The fridge. Mail stacks. Suitcases. Okay…now I was starting to sweat. You know that thing you do in your head where you track backwards and try to remember the last place you saw it. I was convinced it was in my backpack. So, to humor myself, I walked back in to the kitchen and stuck my hand in the bottom of my backpack. Viola! Right there on the bottom…just where I’d left it.
I called everybody. I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT! I’m still convinced it wasn’t there in the morning. So here’s a “thank you” to God for sending that clever angel who wasn’t afraid to put his hand in a woman’s purse and place my passport on the bottom. I’m a happy girl! And I’m going to Greece, baby.
