Tales of a Traveling Minimalist, Part 1

Recently, I had to check my luggage.  

Oh, the misery of it! 

The only time I check my luggage is once or twice a year when The Professor and I go skiing.  I have not yet discovered a way to pack ski sweaters, pants, scarves, mittens, ski helmet and ski boots in a carry-on. 

I have thought about breaking it up into several carry-ons and asking other fellow travelers who had only one piece of luggage if they would take one of mine. 

“Excuse me sir, but would you mind carrying this bag for me.”

But I’m afraid TSA agents would be on me like flies on honey and I would end up in one of those security rooms with only a table and light bulb hanging from the ceiling.  Not good lighting for someone my age.

So, I try to do WHATEVER it takes to avoid checking my luggage. 

Even traveling overseas, it has to be carry-on.  Lesson learned long ago that oversize luggage is not conducive to trucking around Europe.  Narrow hotel stairwells, cobblestone pathways and European car trunks do not make for happy travelers!

Nor happy hubbys.

No, when I travel, I’m a minimalist. 

But the biggest reason for NOT checking your luggage is that you never have to worry about an airline representative telling you, “We are not sure where it is.”

Dreaded words for a traveler.  Words that I’ve heard a few too many times before I smartened up and became a traveling minimalist.

In 1983, as a poor college student and single mother of three, my beat up luggage never showed up on a very short return flight from Aspen to Denver.   A DIRECT flight and my two bags ... gone!    Only mine, no one else’s.  Louis Vuiitton's they were not.  What are the odds that my bags were lost or stolen when so much better luggage was available for the picking.  Hello!  It was Aspen for god’s sake?  Home of Hollywood stars.  Maybe my shabby luggage had to fly cargo plane to Denver.

My kids wouldn’t talk to me for days cause I had LOST their precious T-shirt gifts.  Not to mention my meager college wardrobe of my fave sweaters and jeans. 

In 1989, another bag was lost on a return business trip from San Diego to Des Moines never to be recovered again. 

I’m sure all of my lost luggage has ended up at the Unclaimed Baggage Center warehouse in sleepy Scottsboro, Alabama.  In case you didn’t know, these are the folks who buy luggage from the airlines after 90 days and put it up for sale.  Someone in Alabama is walking around in my kids’ Ski Aspen T-shirts.

I have had about a half dozen episodes where my luggage didn’t arrive but fortunately it was delivered to me the next day.  An inconvenience, but at least it showed up.

But the biggest inconvenience is when your luggage is a no show on your arrival in a foreign country.  This is trouble.   Like trouble in River City or ... Malaga, Spain.

International Travel?  Let’s talk about that tomorrow!

Thanks for stopping by,
missing the mom gene

In Case You Were Wondering

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?  Water

2. How late did you stay up last night and why?  Argghhh ... 2am

3. If you could move somewhere else, would you?  Hell yes ... where it never snows

4. Have you ever been kissed under fireworks?  Probably.  Guess it wasn’t that memorable.

5. What items could you not go without during the day?  Laptop, eye drops, toothbrush

6. How do you feel about your life right now?  Pretty damn good

7. If we were to look in your Facebook inbox, what would we find?  Pretty boring stuff

8. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?  Haha, of course

9. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?  Not likely, only myself

10. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m.: who do you want it to be?  The Tooth Fairy delivering the news that I won the Publishers Clearing House give away

11. Do you think too much or too little?  Way too much

12. Do you believe in fairy tales?  Nope

13. Have you ever licked the back of a CD to try to get it to work? Yuck ..never

14. What’s the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated?  20 years

15. Do you have any friends that you’ve known for 10 years or more? A few

16. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?  Yes

17. What song do you want played at your funeral?  Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell

18. Would you tell your parents if you were gay?  Absolutely

19. What would your last meal be before getting executed?  Sterzing Potato chips and watermelon

20. What do you do as soon as you walk in the house?  Take my shoes off

21. Would you ever get plastic surgery?  Sure, why not

22. What is the first thing you notice about people?  Their teeth

23. What is the farthest you’ve been from home?  Japan and New Zealand

24. How did you meet your spouse or significant other (or most recent one)?   Match.com

25. Where was the last place you drove (other than home/school/work)?  To the airport

Happy Wednesday,
missing the mom gene

Imperfect

Lately, a number of people have questioned me about my blog title.  

Like ... dude .... why is it called the *missing the mom gene*?

Apparently, they don’t know me.

Because if they did, they would understand.

Certainly my children do.  (And to protect the guilty,  I won't name them.)

In my banner photo, you will notice the four empty beach chairs.

(I love the beach, the smell of the ocean, the squawking of the gulls.)

*sigh*

Whoops, I wandered a bit there.  Back on point.

Four empty beach chairs for four grown children who have flown the coop.  Making me an empty nester.  WOOHOO!

Well, maybe that is more like a WooHoo.  One has returned home after college.  A story for another day.

But back to the reasons for my blog title.

*missing the mom gene*

When I began my blog, I thought I was going to yakkity yak about my kids, grandkids, other people’s kids, the good, the bad, the ugly.  Yak about my own imperfect parenting style as well.

But when I started blogging, I found myself wandering into other subject matters.  A little bit of this, a little bit of that.  Sort of like Lou Bega’s Mambo #5.

A little bit of Monica in my life
A little bit of Erica by my side
A little bit of Rita is all I need

Whatever.  (See, I'm meandering again!)

As a result, my blog is feeling a bit eclectic.  Not focused on any one topic or audience.  A sure road to the Blogger Graveyard.

My meandering way, I suppose, is my way of experimenting with my writing and to discover where I feel comfortable.  Sometimes I push myself out of my comfort zone.  It is necessary.  But not always pleasant.

I don’t have a desire to be controversial (I save that for The Professor and my kids), or make money from my blog, obtain a lucrative book contract, or become a guest columnist.

But I do have a desire to write.  And sometimes a desire to shed light where there is darkness. 

So for those of you who may be in the dark as to why my blog is called missing the *mom gene*... (and sometimes the *wife gene*, the *friend gene*, the *empathy gene*), let me explain. 

I am not perfect.

*GASP*

Now that you have picked yourself up off the floor, let me continue.  Ready?

I was more like a *My Way or the Highway Mama* rather than a Helicopter Mom.  Not one for indulging excuses, complaining, whining.  I did not coddle.

And when there was trouble. I assumed guilt. They had to PROVE innocence.  It made me very unpopular as a mother.

Don’t judge.  It worked.  Kids are extremely creative liars!

My biggest offense? 

I threw away my son’s school trophies.  After storing and lugging them around through three moves, I cleaned my garage, called Goodwill and sat them by the curb along with other hodgepodge of collectibles of my adult 20 years.

I didn’t call my son and ask him if he wanted them.  I just gave them away.  Didn’t bat an eye.

And as of today, I think I’m still unforgiven.  And rightfully so.

I am guilty of other *not your typical mom* stuff.

... I did not share my Haagan Dazs ice cream.

... I begged not to play board or card games.

... I dreaded attending Open House nights.

... I pretended not to hear them when they searched the house for me.

... I bought store cookies instead of baking them.

... I made them walk to school or wait for the bus alone.

... I hated boring swim practices and swim meets.

... I pretended to listen when I really wasn’t.

... And I refused to go in the kiddie pool.

Awk!

So, you see, not the typical sweet June Cleaver mommy.

By today’s hovering mom standards ... I am soooo *missing the mom gene*. 

Soooo imperfect.

Lest you be offended by my lack of mothering standards, I did do some things right.

I illustrated by my own behaviors, that with goals and ambitions, all things are possible.

I read to them.  Hugged them.  Talked to them.  Taught them responsibility.  Honesty.  Independence.

I may not have been the best mommy, the most nurturing mommy, the most coddling mommy, the most engaged mommy.

But you know what?  They were and are loved.  Fiercely.  Maybe imperfectly, like this blog.

And maybe it’s not the best blog title for my meandering tales, but I like it.

Imperfect, just like me.

Stay tuned.  One of these days, I’ll write about how I’m *missing the wife gene*.

I have no doubt that The Professor will probably want to tune in to THAT story.

*snort*

Thanks for stopping by,
missing the mom gene

Sunday Smilin'

As you may already realize, I am sort of a warm weather type of gal.  Beaches, sunshine, seagulls, sailing.  That type of gal.

So today when the ice dams on our house began to melt away and the squirrels began digging through the snow looking for their hidden treasures, I started smiling again.

Spring is coming, spring is coming, spring is coming! 

(SHHHH ... please don't tell Mother Nature that I said that.  She just may punish me with another snomeggedon.)

Happy Sunday,
missing the mom gene

Sweetie Pie

Sweetie Pie lives with my sister-and-brother-in-law along with four other rescue canines.  I have grown an attachment to this girl to the point of going James Bond and stealing her away.   She has the most incredible velvety coat and alert eyes, yet cat-like in her indifference towards you.  Kind of the 'take ya or leave ya' attitude.  Guess that explains my attraction.

I think she was a cat in a previous life.

Yours truly,
missing the mom gene