Avocados don’t have a fuse.

I apologize in advance for the briefness of this post. I simply have so much to write about that I don’t know how to say it all, so I’m going to do it very quickly… like ripping off a band-aide.

It appears that my blog went on a Christmas break along with the rest of us. And now, sitting down to revive it, I feel the same kind of trepidation I used to feel when I was going back to school. I remember once, in 3rd grade, having a moment of panic over Christmas break when I could no longer remember what 8×9 was. It made me go over all of my multiplication tables, worrying that I would be unprepared for school when it came around again (I may have been a bit of an over-achiever in elementary school).

Well, J and I went “home” for Christmas. We hopped on a plane and made our way to the Sunny South, where it is daylight by seven in the morning and not dark until five. It was glorious. Once we got there.

I have bad travel luck. It’s just a fact. I always have delayed flights, lost luggage, or worse. One time I traveled with a group that managed to shut down the entire Washington D.C. airport… and that is not an exaggeration. I can give you a list of sources to check if you would like.

I wanted to make this clear to J before we got married, and he seemed to accept it and be willing to go on with the relationship. But he may have regretted that about the time we were wandering around the Houston airport trying to get a flight home.

Due to a series of unfortunate events (some guy spilled gas while re-fueling our plane, etc.) we had a series of delayed flights. We ended up in Houston, trying to get a flight to Atlanta in time to meet another flight to Pensacola. No such luck.

It DID turn out alright, though, because we got a flight directly to Pensacola, and we arrived about the same time we would have normally. The bad news was that our luggage was lost, and did not arrive until Christmas Eve.

The time at home was wonderful; we soaked up time with family, enjoyed nieces and nephews, and caught up with friends. We both enjoyed our moms’ cooking, Jonathan reveled in the wearing of shorts, and I marveled at how incredible my hair became as soon as it was re-introduced to humidity.

Sadly, our time at home had to come to an end, and as we packed up our suitcase with presents (among the favorites: a REAL tea-towel for me to use in the making of donuts [Thanks, Grandma!] and a box of cappuccino mix for J from my mother).

I started the trip back ensuring there were no problems when I made sure to mention to security that there was a giant avocado in my backpack (compliments of J’s Aunt Sue), considering it was a suspicious shape.
The trip home was shockingly easy… we made all of our flights, there was no bad weather, and we even got upgraded to better seats on our last flight.
So, it was with great trepidation that I eyed the baggage claim once we arrived in Anchorage. Surely our suitcase would not make it. (drum roll…)
It did, though! I did a happy dance right there in the airport and declared that the travel-spell was broken.

Until we got to our hotel, and opened the suitcase to find everything… and I mean everything coated in a fine layer of dust. Dust?! How on earth did dust get into our suitcase?

I stared at it for a while trying to answer that very question until I noticed that the dust had a very distinct french-vanilla scent. An opened, and very empty, cappuccino box answered all of our questions. We had managed to double-bag everything that didn’t explode (including a whole jar of sweet pickles) and NOT bag the one thing that DID explode.

As we shook cappuccino out of our clothes into the hotel bathtub (I’m sorry, housekeeping!), I was forced to admit that maybe the spell is not quite broken… but maybe I’m making progress?

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