I was at church this morning at 9:30 for a meeting, and the minister commented to me that she really didn't know how I do it, that it seems like I'm there more than I'm home. Yeah, this week felt like I was everywhere else more than I was at home. I spend my days at work of course, 8:30-5:00. Obviously not home. Monday evening I was in a meeting at church for just over an hour. Tuesday evening was small group ministry for an hour and a half. Wednesday evening another hour and a half at church in the Heretics group discussing population growth, the cultural and evolutionary history of humans on our planet as viewed through the narrative of the book THE STORY OF B and trying to figure out what point P. was trying to get at about the relationship of the philosophy of the book to Rene Descartes' famous cogito ergo sum. I'm still noodling on that one.
Thursday morning 9:00 I arrived at the Des Moines airport, departed at 11:05 for Memphis, had pulled pork sliders at Memphis airport for lunch and flew into Nashville at 3:15. It was sunny and 75 when I arrived there and was picked up by my co-worker. Got to the hotel, Union Station Hotel in downtown Nashville. Beautiful! This is the lobby.
Settled into my corner room on the 6th floor with the help of Tom, a very cute, young, tall, dark-haired doorman. Went down to the bar and drank a Crown and Peach with T. my co-worker. At 6:30 we made our way to Flyte and met our clients for drinks and supper. Long story short, the peekytoe crab with beet slices and fresh mozzarella ball did not sit well. I made it back to my room at 9:30 just in time to throw up three times in a row. Violently. Explosively. I can't remember the last time I puked as heroically as that.
I slept pretty good though. Friday we had our client meeting at their offices and were at the airport by 12:15. Due to weather in the north/midwest and mechanical problems elsewhere, there were no other flights before ours at 5:05, so we waited. We did have a nice lunch, another pulled pork sandwich for me, and then spent the afternoon in the Delta sky club. Nice.
I never fly without thinking of my mother. She took me on my first plane trip, from Des Moines to Memphis ironically, when I was 19. My aunt and uncle drove up from Mobile AL and met us at the Memphis airport. I remember very little about the airports or that flight. I can't remember how it felt or what I thought, if I was nervous or scared. I suppose I wasn't because I was with my mother. Not like now when I fly, and this trip I had to fly the first legs alone. I was very nervous. I don't fly that often and haven't done it all that much anyway, but it's always nerve-wracking for me, and I realized this time . . . I like flying. I don't really like airports. Airports make me anxious. Now that I've done it on my own though, I think I'm OK. I survived it alone, was fine, didn't get lost or bumped or cavity searched.
My Mr. picked me up at 9:15 last night, and we drove home on icy, snowy roads in blowing snow, 26 degrees. The dog greeted us enthusiastically. The house smelled like the chocolate chip cookies our daughter was baking. "Home is where you hang your hat" or where you take off your shoes after a long day.
