Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Who's been reading too much Mother Goose? Thanks Elle. Thanks a lot.

Of course, when you abandon your only child for five days of drunken revelry on the other side of the globe, it is the price you pay. Unlimited patience and undivided attention for atleast the first 48 hours. We have also been reading lots of "Mr Brown can moo, can you?" Still have not found a satisfactory sound for lightening. Ella looks pretty unconvinced as well. Although Dr Suess is a definitely AP Mothering. All those rhymes and sounds. Frankly, the pictures get me a bit creeped out. I hate all those fuzzy, long-necked, googly-eyed animals in his books. Anyways. Ella has had her way with me for too long. Must crack down before she thinks that this change is permanent. This morning, she sat in her stroller, "La, maman. LA!" when I tried to turn the 'wrong' way. We ended up at the Garde Republicaine, watching them exercise their horses. We only went their once when she was about 13 months old but somehow she has remembered that the horses live there. One other day she dragged me over, but we found out it was too hot for the horses to be out. Today we sat there for about 30 minutes watching. Every time they came past Ella would squeal (and by squeal, I do mean squeal) "Anah!" That means "another".

Little Miss E is at daycare and so I am trying to get through my mountain of emails and sort out all the papers I have laying here. I have our Ireland holiday with my parents to book. We had all been certain that the wedding we are planning around was on the 21st of July. Just before dropping the check in the mail for the house, we found out it was the 28th. So I get to start over from the beginning. I suppose better that than sending of the money only to realize the mistake when the invite arrives in the post. Atleast this vacation will be all planned out in advance, it is lots easier than trying to sort it out day by day. I honestly think it is harder traveling with people who are up for anything than people who have specific ideas about what they want to do. It always ends up with me throwing the guidebook at the wall while shouting about how I am not the tour guide and stomping off in a huff. This generally helps, for about 12 hours, after which I am once again the tour guide. There is a downside to being known as the Bossy One in the family.

Just returned an email to a friend of mine living in Carcassone and it looks like we will be going down to visit for a few days at the end of the month. I don't know this area at all and when I found out that an old school friend had moved there, I was really excited. B, being French, doesn't really see the point of vacationing in France. The only time I manage to rope him into a trip to les provinces is when I have friends of family visiting and I can pass it off as their request. We will probably be taking a train, which I think is super fun. Always feels to me like I am starring in a Hitchcock film when I climb on a train. Plus, you get to see lots of the countryside. And since the trains are mainly TGV, it only takes a bit longer than it would in a plane. Best thing about this trip is that my friend is currently running a B & B so all I have to do is book the train tickets and I am done. After the 8000 emails I have sent off to arrange our stay in Ireland, its a welcome reprieve.

Already time to go and get Ella. Sigh. I didn't even get a chance to write about my fabulous girly holiday. I got a hot-rock massage which was AMAZING. I think that this was the sexiest massage I have ever had. B is not really big on giving me massages but this put me so in the mood that I might have to get him a crock pot, a jug of oil, some big smooth rocks and explain whats in it for him... Amazing. Did I say that already? A 3 hour mani/pedi. Again, heaven. Probably wouldn't have taken so long if I had been a bit more careful about knocking my fingers against the table. Ooops. Long lunches. Boozy dinners. A night out drinking with the groomsmen, ending with tacos from a dodgy taco stand. No surprise that I was up puking at 4 am. And I still managed to make it through Wedding Day with no problem- something not likely to happen if I had had a toddler screaming at me at 8 am and hanging from my neck for the rest of the day. So even that was fun (although I hope to never do it again. 32 is officially too old for that shit). Sprawling across the big cozy feather bed instead of having to share nicely. List goes on and on. Only downside was Houston airport, where I got stuck on both trips. On the way there, my bags were lost, I stood around in customs for ages sorting it out, then spent 30 minutes going through security, thereby missing my flight. I had to fly into San Fran and take a taxi to my hotel at midnight. Fun.
Way back? Luggage cart hits the airplane, damaging it so badly that it can't fly and then I get to spend 4 hours wandering the halls trying to spend my 8 dollar meal voucher. You are too generous, Continental. Suffice it to say, I have seen enough of Houston and hope never to go back. Which reminds me, I have some letters to write for reimbursement. By this point in my travel history, I have a standard "My flight sucked. Let me list the ways..." letter saved on my hard drive.