There's Something About Getting Away

I'm not one to get to emo on the blog here. I don't really wax poetic about my life and my dreams and what happens during my marriage and divorce. I write about wanting to be Lil' Wayne, how I feel like racoons are always out to attack me, and other generally mundane musings of suburban life.

This is not one of those days.

Today we do wax poetic and we do so about traveling. I have only seen half of Up in the Air (coincidentally this past weekend) but I can tell you I am 100% a kindred spirit of George Clooney's character. There is something to be said for knowing how to travel because if you know how to do it, there is nothing better. You hate airports? I love them. You can't sleep on a plane? I'm out like a light. You think hotels are gross? I'm well known for stealing all the toiletries because I love to reuse them. I also have a rule of thumb: If you know someone who lives somewhere and they are willing to put you up for a few days, DO IT. There are not going to be an unlimited number of times you are going to be able to find a place to stay, not only at no cost, but with people who can show you a place for what it really is, not for what everyone else sees. Also, when else do you have the opportunity to cruise through 5 issues of New York magazine cover to cover. When?!

It had been a while since I had been anywhere, sans a quick overnight in Philly, followed by a weekend in State College, and I have been itiching to get out. We all know I love, love, love Buffalo but that doesn't mean you can stay here 365 days a year.

So one Gchat conversation, a spin around the Orbitz website, six pairs of shoes packed for 4 days, and it was done. Impromptu weekend in Denver was set. Details will follow about the fabulousness, but this is simply here to say, how wonderful it is to get away.

(That was not meant to be so emo that it rhymed but I guess if we're going down the rabbit hole, we may as well really jump down there....)

No Kids, Just Assets

This past March I took my first trip to Hawaii with my fabulous group of girlfriends. One night, the nine of us were at a local watering hole, just enjoying a few beverages and I happened to be wearing flannel. (The shirt in question is pictured on the right and BTW, lots of people wear flannel.) This shirt led to the following exchange:

The Scene: A bar in Haleiwa, HI after ordering a shot and a beer

The Players: Myself, JS (my dear friend), and Some Random Man at the Bar

Random Man at the Bar: What are all you ladies celebrating?

JS (clutching me in a hug): She's pregnant!

Random Man at the Bar (who apparently didn't notice the beer in my hand or the shot I was about to take or the strange way JS was rubbing my stomach): Oh really? Is that why you're wearing flannel?

Seriously. Pregnancy now apparently means you wear flannel. Or vice-versa. I'm not sure but the point is according to my friend the best answer to "Why are you celebrating?" is "She's pregnant."

So that was Hawaii. Then there was The Ale House.

The Scene: The Amherst Ale House, after ordering a shot and a beer

The Players: Myself, A (Another Dear Friend), Another Random Man at a Different Bar

Another Random Man at a Different Bar: So why are guys celebrating? (This also leads to the question: Can two girls not sit at a bar and get a drink without having a reason to celebrate?)

A: She's getting divorced!

ARMDB: Really, wow!? So how's that going, you doing OK?

Me: Oh yeah, I'm doing great. (I'm so stunned that this was her answer that I literally had nothing to do but go with it.)

A: It was a really good thing, she's doing really well!

ARMDB: Long divorce? Short divorce? Those things can take 2 months or they can take 2 years.

A: It was quick! She's doing great now! That's why we're out celebrating!

ARMDB: Kids?

Me: No kids, just assets.

ARMDB: Well that's great news. Kids really complicate things like that. Congratulations, enjoy your night!

So, yeah. At the ripe old age of 24 I have managed to have a pregnancy that was probably ruined by all the Jameson and Bud Light and a marriage that has ended in divorce but luckily thanks to all the Jameson and Bud Light, there were no kids to fight over. Now, I'm not even sure all this is possible at my age but the real issue here is, why me? How am I always the pregnant flannel wearing divorcee? And why does everyone always believe it's true? Discuss.