Traveltwigue Begins

This is scary. My first blog. I'm leaving tomorrow morning for Germany and Italy, and thought this might be a good way for my family to keep track of me, hence the title of this blog - Traveltwigue. My cutesy DNA is beyond exorcism, so I try to be accepting and not wince too often. My friend Dixie just called and when I told her what I was doing and the name of my blog she said, "How cute!" but in a nice way. So, now I am encouraged to continue. I'm always easily motivated by kindness. I'm probably not travelled enough to present a full-fledged travelogue, but a traveltwigue I can handle.



I made a detailed list two weeks ago, and planned to be all packed by last Friday so I could chill and not stir myself into a sickening frenzy. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday passed. On Wednesday I emailed my daughter and told her I didn't know why I couldn't pack. She wrote back that I should light some candles, put on some music, have a glass of wine, and then just do it. It all sounded good, even the wine part. Since it was only 8:30 a.m. I nixed the wine, forgot all about the candles and music because I was so excited to be packing. My 24" suitcase weighed in at 33 lbs. (a first) and has two inches of spare room on the top. I am good to go. All that's left to worry about is the three inches of snow we are to get overnight. But, that is out of my hands and so I'm still good to go.



My travel companion is my daughter Heidi who is traveling to Nuess and Nuremburg in Germany and then to Milan, Italy for work. As long as I pay travel expenses and food, I can stay with her in her hotel rooms. How lucky am I? The last weekend on our own clock we are taking the train to Venice.

So, tomorrow morning my 7:30 flight takes me to Atlanta where Heidi and Steve live. She will meet me at the airport and at 5:30 p.m. we will board the same flight to Dusseldorf, Germany via Paris. Heidi will be in the front of the plane in one of those nice cozy first-class cocoon thingies, and I will be somewhere in the wayback with my knees to my chin loving every single, exciting minute of the flight. I can never sleep on a plane; I'm always afraid I'll miss something. The horizon line between night and dawn or dusk and night ( I honestly never knew for sure which) was tummy-turningly beautiful when I saw it from the cabin with the pilots on my first flight to Germany way before 9/11 when things like that were still possible. Everyone else was sleeping.