Want the Vermont Secret Sauce? Here's the Scoop (Just Like Ben & Jerry's)!

Flannels by the Airstream = Camping in Vermont!

The secret to enjoying the best that Vermont has to offer? Travel with a Vermonter!  We shared a terrific week in Vermont with native Vermonter, Sue Orr (and her trusty sidekick and husband of 40+ years, Mike Feazel). We highly recommend touring with friends who know their stuff. Not only did we see most of what the internet told us we “must-see” of Vermont, we shared lots of laughs, some cocktails, Cabot Cheese Soup, Creemees and other assorted local fare. The top three items on the Vermont Must-See List by https://yourguidetowandering.com/what-is-vermont-known-for are Ben & Jerry’s, Maple Syrup and Craft Beer…done, done and done! Full disclosure, we did Ben & Jerry’s twice and some of us enjoyed more than one craft beer! Farm Fresh Food and Cabot Cheese also made the “Wandering list” and we eagerly crossed those items off too!

Our Foursome at the Smith Quarry.

Skiing, snowshoeing and all things winter sports also made the list, but thankfully, we were not here for the snow (uh, no, thank you!). We did hit the slopes with a visit to Stowe Ski Resort and a ride up the mountain on the gondola, which allowed us to enjoy a craft beer at the top! Thank goodness the company was great, because the day we were on the mountain, fog socked in the area, blocking what we are sure is a fabulous view!

Before our gondola ride, we shared lunch at the Trapp Family Lodge. Even before I realized that the von Trapps settled in the area, I was humming "the hills are alive with the sound of music!" We can see why the family felt at home in Vermont. The area reminds us of Bavaria.

Mike and Sue got our Vermont visit off to a sweet start with a tour of the Ben & Jerry’s Factory in Waterbury. This factory is the first Ben & Jerry’s factory (built in 1985) and the only factory to offer tours. There is another factory in St. Albine's, Vermont and a factory in Hellendoorn in Holland, which distributes ice cream throughout Europe. Some 350,000 pints of Ben & Jerry’s are produced daily in just the Waterbury location! Ben & Jerry opened their first Scoop Shop on May 5,1978, in an old gas station in Burlington, VT. That gas station has sadly been torn down, but there is a historic marker—Tony snapped a photo of that.

Yes, Please! Cherry Garcia for me!

The 30-minute guided portion of our Factory Experience began with a quick MOO-vie to learn about the company culture followed by a short walk to a mezzanine overlooking the production room floor.

I loved learning that founders Ben Cohen & Jerry Greenfield met in 7th grade gym class in Long Island in 1963. They were apparently the two slowest kids in class—they are my people! Tony liked learning that on April Fool’s Day, the factory taste lab creates and serves “joke” flavors, like Broccoli/ Cheddar Ice Cream! Yuck! All four of us enjoyed the Flavor Graveyard where we paid our respects to the “Dearly De-Pinted” with graves marked with Vermont granite (of course!). The grave that got the most laughs was from the ice cream inspired by the 1998 SNL skit “Schweddy Balls.” That flavor was creamy vanilla ice cream with just a hint of rum, the countless fudge-covered rum and malt balls.

We enjoyed Ben & Jerry’s so much that we visited again on our last day together for a sweet treat! We started and ended our six days in Vermont with Mike & Sue and our new friends, Ben & Jerry.

Vermont is known for more than Ben & Jerry’s.Vermont is also known for its beautiful, covered bridges—we walked across the covered bridge at the Quechee Gorge and drove across another bridge with Mike and Sue. After our fabulous hosts returned to Lake Monticello, VA, we were so inspired that we found more covered bridges to explore! While seeing the Moxley, Flint, Larkin, Mill,Cilley, Howe, Hyde-Kingsbury, C.K. Smith and Braley Bridges was the highlight of that beautiful Sunday drive, we also enjoyed driving past the Tunbridge World’s Fair. 

The World's Fair is held every year in Vermont?? Say, What??

As with most of our exploring, when we returned to the Airstream, we “Googled” what we just saw. Some fun facts: Vermont boasts more covered bridges per square mile than any other state. The Tunbridge World's Fair has been held annually for 156 years. After the Civil War, the fair opened in Tunbridge in 1867, where a "speechifying" former lieutenant governor called it “a little world's fair,” and the next year the fair began using the phrase on its promotional handbills. It has been known as the “Tunbridge World's Fair” ever since. When we drove past, the fair was packed! Cars were lined up all over the little town and filled nearby fields, so we didn’t stop! 

More fun facts…The covered bridges of the Green Mountains star on postcards, on social media and in stories about Vermont for a reason –they're beautiful, historic, and unique. Vermont is home to more than 100 covered bridges, boasting more covered bridges per square mile than any other U.S state. The internet describes Vermont’s gorgeous landscape and boasts of its rural charm, reportedly in part to the 1968 law that bans billboards (we sure didn’t miss those!). Vermont was also allegedly the last state to allow Walmart to be imported to the state.

Another highlight of our Sunday drive was spotting several of the more than 130 Barn Quilts in Chelsea and neighboring towns. While the tradition of wooden barn quilt squares started more than 300 years ago (according to our quick web search!), Chelsea got into the act with a vengeance in 2017. It was so cool to see the beautiful, colorful quilt squares on all types of barns—the barns themselves are works of art. I was so busy gawking, that I didn’t snap photos of any of the quilt squares as we drove past. We will have to come back!

Our tour with Mike and Sue included a drive by of the state capitol in Montpelier and the University of Vermont in Burlington (where Sue Orr graduated). In Montpelier we saw the damage caused by the July floods. Many businesses are still closed, and roads are being repaired. One theater's marquee read "Vermont Strong" and "We Will be Back." We believe them. While in Burlington, we also spent some lovely time wandering around Lake Champlain.

We based out of the Lazy Lion Campground in the town of Barre (pronounced “Berry”), where there was also flood damage and closed businesses—which we discovered when four hangry travelers looked for a late lunch. Ok, those hangry folks were us! We did find a yummy place to eat, and peace was restored to our tribe!

By the way, Barre (Berry or Barry) provided endless material for Tony’s “dad” jokes. “We are having a Berry goodtime in Barre.” You get the idea…those jokes lasted and grew throughout the week.

Just a three-minute drive from our campground was the Rock of Ages Corporation (a granite quarrying and finishing company) where Sue Orr’s grandfather worked for years, first in the quarry and later in a management position where he helped improve conditions for the quarry workers. We enjoyed a guided tour of the Smith Quarry. Our tour guide, Roger, was a retired quarry worker and a character! The tour was a unique Vermont experience and not just because of Roger’s amusing anecdotes. The guided quarry tour has spectacular views of the largest operating deep-hole, dimension granite quarry in the world. We also got to witness craftsmen at work in the Rock of Ages manufacturing site where raw stone is processed into finished products.

Later we visited Hope Cemetery, where we saw many of the beautiful monuments crafted at the Rock of Ages factory and visited some of Sue’s dearly departed family and friends. The cemetery is listed as a top tourist attraction with beautiful and unusual monuments. Our tour was made even more special because Sue’s cousin (and our new bestie!), Maureen Morton, joined us. Maureen is a hoot and a wealth of information.

Sue Orr at Hope Cemetery

Being in Barre was extra special because our Vermont tour guide grew up there, graduated high school there and still has family in the area. It was fun to meet Sue’s brother (Patrick), nephew (Lyle) and his sweet wife (Alyssa) and her wonderful cousin, Maureen. We also drove by SUe's high school and childhood home.

Even rainy days did not keep us from enjoying the state. We enjoyed visiting Quechee Falls on the Ottauquechee River. A covered bridge nearby was an extra bonus. A big draw for Sue Orr was a visit to the Simon Pearce Gallery. So uncultured are we, that Tony and I had never heard of Simon Pearce—a well-known glassmaker from Ireland who creates and sells beautiful glassware in a refurbished 1803 woolen mill overlooking the falls of the Ottauquechee River. According to a 1982 New York Times article, in 1981, Simon, his wife and young son, Andrew, moved from Ireland to Quechee to live and work in the mill. The couple later had three more sons. Andrew now creates and sells beautiful wooden bowls.

The location of the mill (that once reportedly employed more than 500 people and created everything from uniforms for the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees to blankets for the U.S. Army and Navy) is not only beautiful, making it an ideal tourist attraction, but the river creates the hydroelectric power that keeps the furnace burning at 3,000 degrees around the clock to melt the glass. Tony and Mike were mesmerized by the glass blowing and could have stayed for hours. Sue and I enjoyed watching for a few minutes, but really enjoyed the beautiful dam and falls. This area is worth the trip—even if the glassware and bowls are out of your price range—as they were ours! If you want to eat in the Simon Pearce Restaurant (called one of the “most romantic” in the area), make a reservation! We did not make a reservation, so we left and went to the also beautiful Woodstock Inn and Resort just down the road. Now an adorably quaint town, Woodstock was chartered in 1761, 15 years before the United States of America signed the Declaration of Independence.

There were many more highlights and great memories made with sweet friends and those friends were troopers! While we stayed in our cozy Airstream, Mike and Sue camped in a cabin across from us. Unfortunately, the cabin did not have a bathroom or any running water. So, they trekked to the bathhouse across the lane. We shared some lovely, fun meals and laughs at our campsite and Tony made a cup of AeroPress coffee for Mike each morning and delivered it to his cabin.

Mike was also our driver. It was such a treat to be driven around Vermont and to leave our BAT (Big Ass Truck) parked for a week. We would have loved to see some fall colors but were in Vermont too early in the season. Despite that mild disappointment, Vermont is gorgeous! Our other tiny disappointment was not seeing a living moose (do carved wooden statues count?).

We hope to talk Mike and Sue into meeting us again on our travels. Life on the road is awesome but made even sweeter with friends.

But, Wait!! There's More!...

Want to show us your hometown? Send us a message: fishcamp6164@gmail.com and let's make plans!

Cousin Maureen joined us for a fun afternoon. 

There Are No Accidents in Life

Tony saved a life yesterday.

Through a series of seemingly random events, we ended up at Cracker Barrel in Sturbridge, MA and while waiting for our late lunch, Tony saved a life.

I was sipping my iced tea and daydreaming when I heard a commotion several feet behind me. Before I could even register what was happening, Tony was standing beside a table and pulling a man to his feet. My husband spun the man around, wrapped his arms around him and began performing the Heimlich Maneuver. After three quick thrusts, the man was breathing again. Tony returned to his seat. I started crying. Tony’s hands started shaking as the adrenaline wore off.

A few minutes later, the man’s wife came to our table to thank Tony. “I am so grateful you were here today,” she said. “In all the years we have been married, my husband has never choked. Our children were scared. I was scared.” She said her husband would come by to express his gratitude, “after he calms down.”

After he finished his lunch, the man did stop by our table to thank Tony and shake his hand. He still looked stunned and a little embarrassed. He explained that he took one bite of his hamburger and realized he couldn’t breathe. Tony brushed off the praise and we both wished him and his family well, expressing gratitude for his health.

And then our food arrived, and we ate lunch. It was as if nothing monumental had just occurred, even though a man could have died.

While the drama was unfolding, many of our fellow diners did not even look up from their meals or cellphones to see what the commotion was about. I realized after the event, that what I heard was the wife and two young children wailing and yelling “he is choking.” Because my back was to the room, and before their pleas sunk in, I worried briefly that I should duck and take cover. What does that say about us as a society?

I believe there are no accidents in life. Here are a series of what seemed to be random events:

1.      We headed out to what sounded like a fun restaurant for lunch: Not Ya Mama’s Vegan Café in Worcester, MA—about 45 minutes from our campground. Unfortunately, we greatly underestimated the size of Worcester—it’s the second largest city in Massachusetts, with a population nearing one million. That meant that parking was an issue and the spaces where we could fit our “BAT—Big Ass Truck” were $25. Uh, no!

2.      So, we headed back to the RV Park. On the way back to our Airstream, we remembered a Cracker Barrel less than 10 minutes from the RV Park.

3.      Tony always insists on sitting so that he can face a room (and any doors).

Those three seemingly random facts made it, so we were at exactly the right place at the right time for that father.  

I am grateful that we decided against a $25 parking spot. It seems Tony saved more than money yesterday.

But Wait, There's More...

More than 10 months ago, we sold our house and 98% of our belongings to travel the United States pulling our Airstream. We have visited more than 20 states and have only just scratched the surface. We can't wait to see where the road takes us. 

Dear Dad

We lost our beloved dad yesterday. We were on a Lake Boat Parade when I got the call from Cathy, his wife of more than 29 years. I made what might seem like an unusual choice to finish the Boat Parade before heading home to mourn. My choice makes sense if you know that dad loved boats, the water and partying. He would have liked that the Parade went on. 

I wrote this letter to him less than two weeks ago. My husband, Tony, joined me, my sister, Janet, and her husband, Rob, to spend last week with him. Like Cathy told me yesterday, "He waited until you all left to go."

We love you, Dad. 

Dear Dad,

When I was helping you answer your “5 Wishes” questions for hospice, there was one you would not answer: How would you like to be remembered? You gave a snort and said, “That’s a silly question. People will remember me the way they want to remember me. It doesn’t matter how I want to be remembered.”

I have thought a lot about that question and your response.  You are right (of course 😊). People will remember us the way we live, not necessarily the way we want to be remembered. I find now that I am regularly asking myself whether I am living the way I want to be remembered. 

Let me help you answer that question by sharing how I will remember you.

Dad, you taught us so many things, including to have a strong work ethic. I remember you telling me when I was fairly young, that while I could be anything that I set my mind to, whatever I chose, I needed to work hard at that profession. “You be a janitor, but you be the best damn janitor,” you said. That has stuck with me.

When I tried to skate by in school, doing just enough to get a “B” and not working to my potential, you would poke at me to prod me a long, calling me “Old B Minus.” I got the message. There would be no “phoning it in” or “just skating by for us.” I am grateful for that lesson.

You also taught us to take pride in our appearance. You told us that even being poor (and we did not grow up poor, but you did), was not an excuse to look poor. You said we should always be showered, comb our hair and keep our nails neat.  You also insisted we iron our clothes and polish our shoes. You said that when we take pride in our appearance, others will treat us with the respect we show ourselves. I remembered that as I was sending your grandchildren out the door for school…I made sure they looked combed, clean, loved.

You taught us to have a great sense of humor.  You told long jokes that sucked us into the story. You pointed out the silly in life. You made us laugh. Sometimes you were wildly inappropriate. You have never had a censor button. I am afraid I have inherited that!

You taught us to dance. My favorite memories of growing up include dancing around our living room with you while you waited for mom to get ready to go out.  You would turn on that big stereo and take turns dancing with me and Janet. You smelled good and looked sharp. I loved dancing with my handsome daddy.

We danced as a family too.  I can remember all five of us dancing around the stereo. You and mom would tell us to close our eyes and feel the music. As an adult, I still loved dancing with you. You would hum the music and softly sing, especially to a favorite like Ray Charles' “It’s Crying Time Again.”

I will remember you as a hardworking dad who provided for his family. You often worked six days a week—very long days. Sometimes we would visit the stores with you. I remember puffing up with pride because you were the big boss. My handsome dad would introduce me to everyone like I was special. To each of your employees, you would say, “I want you to meet my daughter, Judy.”  I hear your voice when I take the time to show that same respect to someone. You taught me how good it feels to be acknowledged.

When you came home from work, you wanted a few minutes alone with your newspaper, which you did not like to be “molested” before you got to read it. Most nights the whole family sat down to dinner together.  I loved those nights where the conversation flowed and so did the laughs. I did not love the rare time you made us eat liver. 😊

You got up early each day and enjoyed your coffee. As I got older and went to work at Holiday Markets (where you worked for many years), we had even more to talk about. Some mornings, you would come into my bedroom and sit on the side of my bed slurping your hot coffee and sharing about work—the good, the bad and Ron Wilson. I didn’t even mind that it was 6 AM. I loved that you talked to me. The first time Tony and I visited you and Cathy in your apartment, you came into the guestroom and sat on the edge of the bed in your underwear and slurped your coffee while talking to me. I loved it. I am not sure Tony did. 😊

When we were kids, you would want us to help do yard work on your rare day off. If we tried to sleep in, you would wake us by saying that “the flies were crawling” on us. After a few hours of yard work and washing cars, you would ask us to ride along to the dump. We loved that, because a trip like that with you meant a stop at Bartels' Burgers!

You will be remembered as the consummate foodie. You were a foodie before being a foodie was even a thing. You love great food and cook great food. We are all better cooks because of your example. We are all also better bartenders because of your example! 😉

I also remember when you wanted to take Yachting Classes at Shasta College.  Mom was not interested and they were couples’ classes, so I joined you. It was great to see that spark turn into a full-on passion that took you all over the globe. Watching you make your dreams come true still inspires me. Our family enjoyed the trip we shared with you and Cathy to Victoria. It’s a trip we will never forget.

I will remember you as the dad who really cared and showed it in big ways and small ways.  You gave us Easter corsages and hearts of chocolates on Valentine’s Day. You sent sweet cards for years (I have saved them). You tried to have mom help me in Korea when our first child was born by buying her plane ticket. When mom backed out, you cried with me and told me to use the money to hire help (I did).

I have watched you morph from an “Archie Bunker” to a man who shows love for everyone—regardless of who they love or where they are from. I loved when you joked tonight that you would marry Sammee’s boyfriend.  You have never stopped growing and learning. You have apologized for hurtful things you have said in the past. It takes a big man to admit when he is wrong. I have learned from your example to own my mistakes. Thank you.

You and Cathy visited us all over the globe. Not many came to Korea, but you did.  You came to the Netherlands and Germany too and even visited the boring places like Alabama.

When you heard that Cory and Jess were getting married quickly in Hawaii, you jumped at the chance to join us at their tiny ceremony. You made their day so much more special by your presence. When Kelsey (Chana) and Nimrod were getting married, you and Cathy were among the last to finally admit you could not attend because of COVID. Eventually, the wedding was bumped up a few days and held in a backyard in Queens. You and Cathy still dressed up and toasted the happy couple from your home in Florida.

Dad, you will always be remembered as a man who loved his family. You took care of your mother and your brother (as much as he would allow). You have taken care of all of us. You were there for us at Mom’s memorial service. You cried with us. You showed us that just because you can’t live with someone, doesn’t mean you don’t love them.

You showed us affection. Your dad was not there for you, yet you knew how to be there for us. You hugged and kissed us and held our hands.

I don’t want to imagine the planet without you on it, but you have lived life to the fullest and taught us to do the same. We know we are loved. That is maybe the best gift you gave us.

I love you, dad. I am so proud to be your daughter.

Always,

Judy

Life is a page-turner..Next Chapter!

I have not added to this blog in years—literally. No exaggeration. I feel compelled to start writing again because I am leaving a job where my need to write was fulfilled. I had the pleasure of being a pen pal of sorts to several thousand people.  After Monday, that ends.

While I am at peace with my decision, I am feeling extra emotional today.  I feel so much love for the people of Lake Monticello.  It’s a crazy, “Hallmark card, cue the Lifetime Movie” kind of love. Why all this rush of affection?  I am in the last couple days of my position as Lake Monticello Owners’ Association (LMOA) Communications Director—a role I have had for more than four years.

 

Four years.  The time it takes most students to earn a Bachelor’s Degree.  Just like a new college graduate, I am experiencing a mix of bittersweet feelings—an intense sense of accomplishment, sad to leave the people and the fun parts, while feeling both nervous and excited about the future.

I am also feeling overwhelmed by the love I am receiving in emails, cards, visits, calls and hugs.  It’s like being eulogized while I am still alive to hear the kind words…kind of a mixed blessing.  It’s lovely to hear what I have meant to many of my “neighbors” at Lake Monticello, but it makes me hope I have made the right decision to move on to—as one sweet neighbor called it—my “next chapter.”

 

One email really got to me today.  The writer apologized to me, writing:

“I rely so much on your updates. Am very sad to hear of your departure. Thank you for being so thorough and thoughtful. My apologies for taking you for granted in the regard that I thought we could keep you forever!!  THANK YOU for all you do for our community!  You are awesome!  (I hope your replacement has a tenth of your style and love for us).”

I couldn’t help it.  I went all peri-menopausal and felt tears fill my eyes—happy tears, I assured her in my response.

 

Do we ever really know when it’s time to start the “next chapter” of our lives?  I know I will look fondly on my time as the Lake’s Communicator and look eagerly forward as the rest of my story unfolds.  Whatever my tale,  I will enjoy the telling…I am hoping for a page-turner!

The LMOA Maintenance Team wished me well at a farewell gathering.

But, Wait, There’s More…While there are many who have expressed their sadness or disappointment in my departure from LMOA, there are still others who rejoice.  I am good with that too.  I love that expression,  “well-behaved women seldom make history.” The passing years have brought a calm assurance about who I am. I live large—big smiles, big laughs, big hugs.  I have been told by friends (with affection, I hope), that I can be aggressively friendly—like a puppy that won’t stop trying to make friends with you.  Knowing myself, I can appreciate that I am not everyone’s cup of tea.   

Who I am is part of my story…next chapter, here I come!

My "Extra" Day





What a beautiful "Extra" Day ~ Leap Day 2016!

"If it happens today, it didn't really happen," said the voice in my car radio this morning on my commute. "It's an extra day! A bonus!”—another shouted when I clicked to a different station.

 

Today, FEB 29, is leap day—the day inserted every four years to keep our calendar operating smoothly. This extra day makes the year 366 days long.

 

Since I am not in the market for the deniability offered by the first DJ (not today, anyway), I got to wondering what I would do or should do, if I knew this was truly an "extra" day. Not to be too maudlin, but if this was it, the end, the finale and I were gifted one more day, how would I spend it?

 

That sure puts life right in perspective. I have allowed my energy to be drained and my enthusiasm to wane in the last few days because of negative comments made by others. I have spent hours explaining, apologizing, cajoling. Just thinking about it makes me want to take a nap or eat chocolate—did I mention I am on a 3-Day Cleanse? So I pray I wake up tomorrow for a do-ever because today (and much of last week) is not how I would choose to spend my “extra” day.

 

It might be easier to start with what I would NOT do on my “extra” day. I would not complain, whine or roll my eyes. I would not waste one second with people who are not kind to me and my family. I would not do anything involving money.  I would not workout or worry about what I eat. I know that’s terrible for a Beachbody coach to admit, but it’s the truth. I have often joked about a “Last Supper,” referring to what I gobble down before starting another fitness challenge. To really know it was my last supper, I don’t even know if I would want to waste the time eating. Just writing that literally gives me food for thought.

 

Family fun last summer.

What would I do?

 

On my “extra’ day, I would wake up early—like I normally do—because I wouldn’t want to miss a second of that precious day. More importantly, I would wake up next to my husband (we currently live in two cities and visit on the weekends). I would hot tub with him and sip wine—I am aware wine is not a breakfast food, but this is our extra day. I would call all the people I love, unless I could gather them around me.  I would want to see my dad, sister, brother, all our family members and the sweet friends I have collected over the years who know me better than I know myself. I would tell them I love them. I would give hugs freely to people I encounter and share with them the gift of my extra day.



My favorite days are when we gather with the Fish Kids.

I would hope the Fish kids would be with me. Whether they were with me or not, I would write them each a love letter, although I know there are not words for how much I love Kelsey and Cory.  As my fellow mamas know, that love is indescribable and only gets stronger as our babies grow away from us.

 

I would breathe deeply and appreciate the weather, the sky, the breeze, the leaves. I would savor the sounds of life—dogs barking in the distance, children calling out, birds.  I would also savor the gratitude that I feel about so many things in my life, like the rush I get when I pull up my driveway and realize this is our sweet home or the real rush I get when I pick Tony up on a Friday night at the train station and know that the next two days are ours.

 

I would take a good long, final look around and think, “I hope I have loved enough and given enough.”  And then I would look up and say, “Thank you.”

 

And if I am honest, I would add, “More, please.”



This mama friend is missed by so many.
 Ruthanne knew how to live life to the fullest.

But Wait, There’s More….

I am embarrassed to admit that I cried when I wrote this. It surprised me how my tears flowed, until I realized I was crying for Ruthanne, my mother and Tony’s mother—the mamas, who left too soon.



My sweet mama. I miss her everyday.

Tony's mama.

OOPS! Never a Dull Moment...

This is what 4 AM
 at the Rabat Airport looks like.

I can cross sitting in a dark airport alone in Morocco off my bucket list, since that's where I am as I write this.

 

After a fabulous, nearly flawless week in Morocco with our daughter celebrating our January birthdays, I apparently needed a dramatic finale.  My birthday was yesterday and we celebrated all day—it was great. The morning started with crepes and hot chocolate, followed by a massage for me at a fabulous spa (thank you, Kelsey!) and then a beautiful lunch in a garden at a French Café. Next some minty Moroccan hot tea at a hotel and some shopping. We later took a walk and then showered and went out to a yummy Moroccan dinner. Cake and champagne followed in the apartment that Kelsey shares with Laziza.  I packed my suitcase and got everything ready for an early departure to the airport. Kelsey had thoughtfully arranged a taxi ride with a driver she knows and trusts. He was scheduled to pick me up at 5 AM. The plan was to sleep a couple of hours and then head to the airport.

Celebrating Kelsey's birthday.

Well…that would have lacked a certain level of drama that I apparently crave. Around 1:30 AM, I decided to glance at my itinerary for the first time since arriving in Morocco. I read it to say that my flight was leaving at 6:40 AM, not 7:55 AM.

PANIC ensued!  What to do?? I would never arrive on time if the taxi picked me up at 5 AM.  Unfortunately, the driver was apparently sleeping (as most folks are after 1 AM) and did not answer the multiple calls made to his phone. So, Kelsey was sweet enough to call another driver she knew of and ask him to come early. He said he would (for double the price), so it was arranged. Laziza was awakened more than once to speak in French to the driver. He needed extra help finding the apartment.

Cheers to me...
just hours before my panicked
and unnecessary early trip to the airport.

I got scooped up by 3:15 AM and arrived at the airport at 3:40 AM—after asking the driver to stop looking at his Facebook as we sped through the mostly empty streets of Rabat. When we pulled in front of the airport, it looked suspiciously dark. Amazingly, a porter ran out to get my bags (and garner a tip). Once inside the completely dark airport, I realized the schedule in my backpack was wrong (or I was sadly mistaken). My flight actually does leave at 7:55 AM. The airport opens at 5 AM.  Luckily, a security guard told me to have a seat and wait…

So that’s how I find myself sitting in a dark, empty airport in Morocco. Sleep is overrated anyway. And besides, this will make a much better story to tell…later…much later!

My apologies to my awesome hosts, Kelsey and Laziza. I had a fabulous time in your beautiful city and it looks like I will get to enjoy one more sunrise from my perch in the airport. I hope you both get a few hours’ rest.

But wait, there’s more…

 

Unfortunately, the airport internet would not let me post this, so I am posting it after landing at Dulles International Airport, where I watched the sunset as we deplaned. What perfect symmetry...a sunrise in Morocco and hours later in Virginia, a sunset.

 

I am often accused of being a little Pollyanna about things. Despite my natural tendency to look on the bright side of situations, sometimes finding that shiny side can be a challenge. But, this crazy departure story already has me giggling. There are a couple lessons for me here:  check and double check my itinerary early and often and don’t create panic until double checking the airline schedule online, but where would be the drama in that?

Sleepless in Morocco

I am sleepless in Morocco.

Today our baby turns 25.

Kelsey is our oldest child.
Our firstborn.
Our girl.

Kelsey--or as she preferred to be called when she was 4 and usually sporting a pink tutu, "Princess, Barbie, Kelsey Christine, Clarice, Be My Guest, Beauty Belle Fish" or some variation of that long string of titles--has never lacked in style. Even at 4, Kelsey was defining herself and making a name (or multiple names!) for herself.

Kelsey was an early birthday gift to me 25 years ago in that military hospital in Seoul, Korea. My birthday is two days after hers and holding our newborn girl, I was grateful for her and full of hope for what she would become. Even in my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined half of what Kelsey has accomplished already. Kelsey is in Morocco on a Boren Fellowship doing graduate research for her Masters in Global Communications from George Washington University. Our spunky girl moved to Morocco on her own in September and has made a life for herself from scratch--and it's a sweet life full of friends, travel and experiences she will never forget. What's even more amazing is that this is not her first foray into living abroad.

Starting her freshman year at The College of William & Mary, Kelsey lived in Beirut, Jordan, Berlin and Morocco (the first time for a summer, where she studied Arabic in a program sponsored by The State Department). With each of these relocations, she hopped a plane alone and created a life for herself. The shy girl who would have her younger brother, Cory, go ask for ketchup for her at a fast food place because she was too afraid, has found her voice and conquered her fears.

So that's how I find myself in Morocco.

I find myself sleepless because I want this moment to freeze. I am remembering a time when my mom came to visit me in Alabama and my husband, Tony, was away. Kelsey and Cory, were young. My mom and I shared our king-sized bed and giggled like school girls and even then I knew that those days were special. As I enjoy this week-long slumber party with our girl, I just want to cherish every second. We are making promises to always celebrate our January birthdays together with some dedicated "Girl Time." I will hold us to those promises.

What I remember most about that day 25 years ago in Korea is how over-the-moon happy I was holding our sweet girl. I wanted to freeze time then too.  Seeing all that Kelsey has become I am glad time marched on. While I find myself wistfully wanting to freeze time again, I know Kelsey's story is not finished yet and mine isn't either. I can't wait to see what our beautiful, smart, kind girl will accomplish next.

Happy Birthday, Princess.

Love,
Mom

But wait, there's more...

I haven't written a blog post in months. My writer daughter inspired me to get going again!  Cathy Jones, Sheryl Ellis and Heather Conroy have also encouraged me to charge on. Strong women are amazing. Thank you to all the strong, loving women in my life--especially the birthday girl.