Monthly Archives: March 2014

Spring Break: Nepal?! WTH?!

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No one can say I’m not up for an adventure. I mean, I live in the Middle East after all! Find a bigger, weirder adventure than that. Well, I did. I booked a two-week trip to Nepal for me and my family for Spring Break this year. And with each moment that it gets closer to our departure time, I’m more overwhelmed with thoughts of “WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?!”

The first alarm bells went off for me when the tour company sent me an email suggesting we bring our own sleeping bags. I read that several times trying to compute what exactly they were saying. Did they want me to bring a My Little Pony sleeping bag so that I’ll have somewhere comfortable to lie down for a nap after lunch as we trek through the mountains? Or did they mean a hi-tech thermal body bag survival sleeping bag because, oh by the way, it’s getting down to the freezing point at 14,000 feet.

My confusion comes from the fact that I’m nearly positive I paid the extra however much money for the upgraded guest accommodations. What I’m coming to realize is that we’ve now upgraded from sleeping in the yak barn to sleeping on the stone floor of a Buddhist monastery. Since when is there no Marriott on Everest?!

With a newly heightened state of concern about this crazy mess I’ve gotten us into, I start looking a little more closely at the itinerary we’ve been sent. After arriving in Kathmandu, we will transfer by a small prop plane to the tiny village of Lukla at the base of Mount Everest. Okay, that sounds nice, except pull up Lukla on the internet and its notorious claim to fame is the fact that it’s the Most Dangerous Airport in the World. I try and reassure myself that if we crash, we’ll all go down together as a family. Unless one of us survives and is tragically maimed which would be even worse! Either way, no one will ever top that story on Facebook! So there’s an upside to everything.

After a week of trekking through the Himalayas, we’ll white water raft back down. So if I don’t die on the mountain (Go read the book “Into Thin Air), then I’ll probably drown in a frigid river careening down off the mountain. Let me repeat, “WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?!”

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Age Outrage

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I’m outraged! I demand a recount! I’m standing up and screaming that truth and justice be restored to their rightful place in my life! Just one month after I have rolled my chronological odometer over the 50 mark and the break down has already begun! It’s as if my warranty expired. New cars get 50,000 miles bumper to bumper. If anything breaks before that, it’s fixed back to new condition, no questions asked. After that, well, it sucks to be you. After 50, it sucks to be me!

It happened like this: I woke up on the morning of my 50th birthday and couldn’t see. I couldn’t read up close. I couldn’t see far away. So I rush off to the eye doctor only to be told… I don’t know if I can even say this… I have early stages of cataracts! What the heck?! My grandmother had cataracts, like when she was 98! I’m too young to have cataracts!

But not to panic, they have laser surgery now that can fix all your vision issues. Give you the eyes of a hawk. Well, not if you’re 50 and have early stage cataracts! And retina issues. No, I can’t have corrective laser surgery. I get glasses. But not just any glasses! No, because I’m 50! I get – oh the utter horror and shame of it all – I get BIFOCALS!

Don’t bother trying to console me. I’m too busy making an appointment to have my hair permed and dyed blue. One of my dearest friends, who happens to be several years older than me and that much further down the road of personal decay, offered to hit the sale at the mall for a pair of those sensible SAS shoes with rubber soles in neutral earth-tone colors and Velcro closures. But we’d have to go before Wheel of Fortune comes on, of course. That’s what old people like us do now, we watch Wheel of Fortune and hit the early bird special at Luby’s for a LuAnn platter. I’ll need to put a Ziploc baggie in my purse, so I can slip the roll in it to take home for breakfast the next day. Oh, and tuck an embroidered handkerchief in the sleeve of my cardigan.

But then again, I also had to remind myself that Old Ladies Rule. So I got contacts. Whatever. Who needs the rest of it? I never liked Wheel of Fortune anyway.

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