Your Dog Freaks Me Out

I don’t believe in luck. Sure people or happenstances can seem lucky, but so what? It comes down to odds. It's why I don’t like gambling; they're against you. On Monday, they were working overtime.

While flying back from Florida, we were in a giant line to get through security. Thousands of people were trying to get through to hundreds of airport terminals. The only thing we had in common? The fact we were trying to leave Florida that morning. We could be traveling to anywhere in the world. The couple behind us was returning home to Japan. Directly in front of us, a girl had a carry-on with a puppy inside. This fascinated me. You can take live pets on a plane? Does it go through the metal detector? Where does it go on the plane? I took pictures.

We board our flight and I’m still talking about the crazy dog. At this time, it’s pointed out to me: She’s sitting in the seat directly behind me. How is that even possible? If beating the odds equals being lucky, I want a lottery ticket.

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The Little Blue Can

There comes a point when being tired isn’t solved by caffeine. On our marathon road trip we drove 28 hours straight. My driving was minimal but there’s something about being in a car for that long. After hour 20, I decided to drink a Red Bull. (I adore that little blue can. So much so that it’s a special treat.) It didn't help. I was still seeing the back of my eyelids more than I care to admit.

Here’s where I get a bright idea. I stopped at the nearest gas station and picked up a 5-Hour Energy Shot. It guaranteed no crash and sounded like a good idea. Obviously there were two flaws with this idea. The first was I had never had one before and didn’t know how I would react. The second was I had forgotten about the Red Bull. All I knew was the bottle was tiny and I was tired. What I didn’t know is instead of being awake and productive, I would be jittery and suffering chest pain. The next few hours were interesting if nothing else. I’m happy I only spent $3 to simulate a heart attack.

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Travelling Oldies Style

Since I started working fulltime, the seasons aren’t as crucial. When you were in school, you had large breaks to enjoy. My years now have three seasons: Vacation, Waiting for Vacation, and Returning from Vacation. Obviously, vacation season is the best (but most brief). The longest (both figuratively and literally) is the waiting season. The returning season is painful.

I mention this because in the last month, I have gone through all three seasons twice. I hate readjusting. Eight (work) days after returning from our California trip, we packed up and headed out on our wedding/road trip extravaganza. In seven days, we went to two weddings, two rehearsal dinners, four drinking excursions, three states, and two provinces. Did I mention we drove? We covered 3,000+ miles in 61 hours and spent over $400 in gas.

It was different. Highlights include: the radioactive scan at the boarder, driving through Prince Albert and Drinkwater SK, the cheese humping mouse, and driving in kilometres.

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It's All About The Beaver

Today was my first day back at work. I looked forward to coming back for the simple fact that I get to relax. Initially I take a vacation because I need a break from work. Before it’s over, it occurs to me that work is less strenuous. I have a schedule and a routine that serve me well. While on vacation, my SO and I have a sick need to make the most of it. We get up early, keep long hours, and cram as much into the day as possible. It’s amazing fun and I never regret it but it leaves me in pain. I’m left wondering if I need a nap or a massage.

Last week we tore up California. We went to Comic-Con, Craig Ferguson, Conan O’Brien, and Disneyland. A twitter follower said this would make his head explode. I’m apt to agree with his statement. The highlight of my trip was seeing Jim Beaver in a Supernatural panel. Having just watched his tragic end in Deadwood, it was enjoyable to see him up on stage. Most actors I enjoy as a specific character. Jim Beaver? I enjoy him in all of his roles.

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By Whatever Means Necessary

I feel relieved. I think. I got what I wanted, but took the coward’s route. My need was simple: Get my vacation request approved. Instead of getting up the nerve to bring my slips to my boss, I left them in her mailbox. My excuse, albeit pathetic, was true: I forgot that the slips were on my desk (I didn't mention it was intentional). Regardless the result's the same; I’m going on vacation!

I love going on trips, but I hate this panicked feeling. Part of it is because I can’t plan for everything. I also hate to spend money. The bigger part is now I have no vacation time left. I don’t have a buffer of extra time. Which brings me to another point, why do I feel guilty for going on vacation? I earned it. Leaving on vacation feels like a death sentence. I’ve seen it happen before. You train someone to do your job (feels like giving away trade secrets) and next thing you know they have your job.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry. As I find out every time I come back, no body else wants my job.

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