I’m sinfully high off of this trip. Vacations like this one are like double orders of cheesecake, topped with bulging red raspberries, dipped in dark chocolate and buttercream icing, then fed to me by the straight male cast of the Young and the Restless while the Seminoles score a touchdown. Trips like this aren’t on the menu very often, and when they are, I feel guilty even thinking about them, guilty in ordering them, guilty of indulging in their every crumb and quite possibly licking stray bits of cream cheese sweetness off the back of my fork. Every few years I indulge anyway, and apparently take 405 photos to document the immoderation. When finally forced from the table, I wander around in bliss-induced dissociation. 7 pm, touchdown. Pick up bag at carousel 10. Arrive at apartment without first clue if more than a two-week old head of Iceburg exists for dinner. Pat self on back for buying Combos just in case there wasn’t. Wake up in silence. In familiar zip code. Review photos again as if it will somehow mean I’m not really here.
I’m physically home and waiting for my head to catch up.
This must be what it feels like to be a preemie or a bride without her makeup. Stop the presses; I’m not ready just yet. It’s a silly old tale, of course, the notion that it’s so tough to go back to work and life and regular hair care after vacation, as if I’m in any way alone in that thinking. But I’m really not ready. I’m not ready to make plans for the next few days or pick out an outfit for work that will fit this body, likely plumped by the consumption of plates of pasta and more red wine than in the average September. I’m not ready to stop cursing or flirting with wait staff. I am not ready to give up feeling like a woman without borders or giggling over new passport stamps. And I’m certainly not ready for 395N or the perils of suitcase unpacking or life without the best kind of unknown around the bend.
I’m not ready to be me again.
I want instead to turn off the phone and put down enough cat food for a week so I can catalog photos in silence, taking the time to tag each with multiple words. I want to craft descriptions that will mean something when I can no longer identify myself in a photo, or remember if a particular shot had any significance beyond opportunity. I want to document every last lovely, luscious element. I want to make sure the blue of the Mykonos sky is exactly as I saw it, because in my world colors like that don’t usually exist without electronic manipulation, and I almost feel the need to prove that it was so. I was here and it was really something, grandcats, if nothing more than that.
Sadly, the now requires that I separate whites and darks and buy another bag of Science Diet so my cats don’t achieve the normal, healthy weight of their peers and write and actually mail a check for October’s rent. Slightly less life-affirming than hiking alongside waterfalls in Croatia–or snickering at Speedos, for that matter–but for today it will have to do.
19 Comments
Really glad you’re back and that you had such a fantastic time. I know just how you feel – I felt that way when I came back from Ireland and actually tried to start planning on moving there.
I would love to see your pictures! We can make a slideshow on my TV and drink more wine <3
Your trip sounds amazing. I’m sorry for you that you’re back to the old routine, but glad for myself that you’re back. :)
I’d love to say something to make it all feel better; to bring back the value of keeping interested in the rich pageant that is Life, but I can’t. There isn’t any real reason to return to just about any of this, other than Comfort and Familiarity. Some folks in fact do “take the rest of their lives off” no matter how it affects themselves or the ones closest to them.
I can just say that while you should cherish your memories, don’t forget that the rest of your life is Special to both you, your cats and all the others in your life, even us.
Oh Kris! I can not wait to see your photos! Sorry you had to come back at all.
I’ve felt that way after pretty much every vacation I’ve ever taken. Especially the ones to Europe. But I’m glad you’re back so we can see some pictures and hear some stories. I don’t see another big trip in my future for several more years, so I try to live vicariously through others…
This reminded me of the song “Sand In My Shoes” by Dido.
Son of a bitch! You can write! I f*cking LOVE your posts.
welcome home! I could totally use that kind of vacation right about now…
I can imagine, and will be there after going to the UK in December (yes, December but so what) but we are glad you’re back.
BTW, rented first season of Mad Men this weekend have a Don Draper overdose. Whew.
Kris! I am so glad you had a fantastic time on your trip and are safely home. I am not above bribing with wine (or iceburg lettuce, take your pick) to see some of those photos…;-)
Welcome back, world traveller.
Did you get the “My Blogger Went to Greece and All I Got Was This Lousy Oedipal Complex” t-shirt like I asked?
Welcome back. It’s wonderful that you managed to have a double cheesecake of a trip even after that very inauspicious beginning.
Welcome back! Sounds like you had an outstanding time. God, I hope there are pictures coming!
You are SO worldly!!
Sweet Lord, I’m so not worldly. Well, maybe I am, if worldly means enjoying doing word finds in your underwear from Target. In that sense, I guess I am.
As a diligent reader of your blog, I sincerely welcome you back!
I look forward to your upcoming writings about the trip!
welcome back! I’m glad that it was so wonderful. When can we see photos and get a full itinerary for my future trip planning?
First paragraph just made me reeeeally hungry.
Welcome back!
I hate how long it takes my mind to catch up with my physical body when I come back from a trip. Or maybe I just hate that I have to leave the trip behind at all. I am SO GLAD you had a good time though.
Coming home is the worst part. I am dying to see photos, though… Welcome back!