Brace Yourself!

We've made it to the gate and haven't lost a kid yet. I got to ride in an airport cart for the first time ever bc of "the foot" issue. I'm sporting a very fashionable Velcro brace, which has helped greatly. 

The ride on the cart was surprisingly "breezy" - they move quickly! Headed for a five hour layover in Boston. By this time tomorrow, I'll be soaking in the Blue Lagoon. 

You're Going to Iceland?? WHY?

That's the question I've been asked most since I first started telling people I am going to Iceland for two weeks. Of course, a few people have responded with "awesome!" or "that's so cool...that's where Game of Thrones is filmed!," but for the most part, I get quizzical looks when I tell people where I'm going.

Honestly, when my friend/travel partner/co-teacher Cathy Bottoms asked me way back in September if I'd like to go to Iceland, my initial response was probably also a quizzical look. Within 10-15 seconds, however, I heard myself saying, "SURE!" I then immediately began wondering how I was going to stay warm. I love mountains and snow, but I mostly like seeing them through a window while I'm sitting by a fireplace, under a blanket, preferably drinking something that warms me from the inside out. Instead, for at least two nights of the trip, I will be looking at mountains and snow from the plastic window of a tent. On the ground. In a sleeping bag.  I guess the saving grace is that we'll have only four hours of darkness each night, so it will only be in the 30s or 40s instead of the 20s. Luckily, I'm only sleeping outside two out of 14 nights, so I think I can manage. I slept outside and didn't shower for a WEEK in Africa...this should be a piece of (very cold) cake!

Of course, I've spent more money preparing for this trip than the actual trip costs (not really...but close), but you can be sure, I'm going to be warm! Layers, layers and more layers are the theme of the trip. I will be traveling with Cathy, 16 photography students, two National Geographic Leaders, and a Nat Geo photographer. We will be gone two weeks and will cover the entire county of Iceland, which is only as big as Kentucky.

I've started packing, and of course, as is always the case, I have way too much stuff. I'll be paring down my packing list this weekend, praying that I can somehow survive two weeks of trekking around Iceland with only 50 pounds of stuff.

Wish me luck and please pray for unusually warm temps in Iceland for the next two weeks! Stay tuned.

I'm the Worst Blogger Ever

I know, I know! We have had very little time and frankly, when we have had time to be on the computer, I've been too exhausted to write anything that would be even mildly interesting to anyone with literacy beyond the first grade. I WILL get caught up.

We left Italy yesterday and traveled by plane to Athens and then by bus to Delphi. The entire vibe of the trip changed when we got to Greece. It feels much more relaxed and calm. Italy was beautiful and amazing and educational, but a little chaotic and rushed and frenetic. We will function at a slower pace here in Greece, which will be welcomed by all.

On a more personal note, I actually may be leaving early. My 94-year-old grandmother, who lives in Dallas and to whom I am very close, is not doing well at all. I am in the process of deciding when I am going to leave and how to arrange all that. It's been very trying, to say the least...and another reason I've been avoiding the blog.

About to head out again to lunch, which, for me, will consist of SALAD and CHICKEN...we had very little of either in Italy. I've eaten more bread and pasta in the last week than I've eaten in the past three months at home. My body is rebelling and demanding protein and veggies. We are in Delphi, which sits in the mountains overlooking the Sea of Corinth (I think...). It is beautiful and friendly and peaceful.

More later....

Next Time You Need to Go to Target Before a Big Trip...

come shop at my house instead. You know the aisle that has all the travel sized products? That aisle now exists on my bed. I'm having a sample sized sale at my house when I get back. Come see me!

Panic Napping

I should be in frantic-panic-packing mode right now. I'm actually in panic-napping mode. I just woke up from my becoming-much-too -regular afternoon siesta (yes, it's called that in Italy too). I used to work out in the late afternoon. Now I nap. The trade-offs for each are equal, although my abs would argue that point. Anywho...I digress.

My airport limo - and by limo, I mean Carly Cannon's Nissan Murano - is picking me up in 16 hours and I have not packed one stitch of clothing. I just woke up from a dream in which I arrived in Italy with clothes packed, but NOTHING else. No toiletries, no camera, no shoes except the one I wore on the plane, no nothing except a lot of cute skirts and every color tank top Target sells. And in my dream (operative word being "dream"), I wasn't the least bit panicked or flustered. Just as I am, at this moment, feeling no urgency whatsoever to get up and be productive, despite the fact that I am leaving the country tomorrow for two weeks with 13 teenagers of whom I am in charge. Where has the Type-A Holly I know gone??

I'm getting a little panicked about not being panicked.

The Countdown Begins. Again.

Once again, I'm gearing up for the next big adventure. My friend and colleague, Carly Cannon, and I are leaving Thursday for a two-week trip to Italy and Greece. We will travel with a National Geographic photographer, Massimo Bassano, two Nat Geo leaders, David and Carolyn, and 13 girls from MHS. Did you read those last five words? 13 girls. 13 girls, ages 15-17. And three women. God speed to Massimo and David.

For whatever reason, I'm not nearly as stressed about preparation for this trip as I was about Africa. I suppose this is because unlike last year, I am not worried about sleeping on the ground in a tent, contracting malaria or getting eaten by a lion. I am hopeful that my biggest worry on this trip is what gelato flavor I will be trying each day. And by "each day," I mean each and EVERY day. The biggest challenge of the packing so far is, as always, shoes. How does one walk all over Europe looking cute but also being comfortable? It's 2011...I can program my DVR from my phone while driving down the road in a different country. Can't SOMEONE make cute AND comfortable walking shoes!?

We will be visiting Florence, Rome, Athens, Nafplio, Delphi and several small towns and villages along the way. I have been to Europe, but never Greece or Italy. Can't wait to get there!

Ciao! (You are all going to be soooooooo sick of reading that by the time I am finished with this trip!)

THE DUMBEST THING I'VE EVER DONE

Well, maybe not EVER, but certainly in a very long time. The DUMBEST thing I've EVER done surely involved a man, but that's fodder for a much different blog. Why I am blogging about this particular event for public consumption is beyond me. And why I am blogging about it for public consumption when I have to be at work in less than six hours and I needed to be asleep four hours ago is really beyond me and bordering on just plain stupid. But not as stupid as what I was doing 24 hours ago.

At this time last night, I was driving myself home from the St. Luke's "satellite" ER. Basically, it's a minor emergency center on steroids. When this place was being built, I made a note to self, thinking how handy it would be to have a such a place a mere 45 seconds from my home. That note to self never even came close to including, "because you might need to go there when you accidentally put your eye out with a resistance band while trying to do p90x at midnight on a Saturday night." But that's what happened.

I know, I know...so many questions just entered your brain as you try to visualize what you just read, probably first and foremost being "YOU'RE doing P90X?!!? HAAAAAAA!!" Yes, I started doing P90X five days ago. The Day 5 workout, which I was doing at 11:30 pm on a SATURDAY NIGHT (which prompts a myriad of further questions that I really don't want to discuss), consists of torturing one's legs and BACK. Tony Horton, the evil dictator who
created this ridiculous program, seems to think that the quickest way to a strong back is by doing pull ups. I am 39. I am female. I am one of the least coordinated and therefore, least athletic, humans I know...ergo, I can't do a pull up. Hitler suggests that wimps like me can instead use a resistance band until we are ripped enough to do a pull up. I am estimating I will be doing pull ups by September 15, 20never, but until then, I need to use the band. Sooooo...I found a doorway close enough to my TV that I could still see and hear Mussolini screaming at me to "GET THAT CHIN OVER THE BAR" and proceeded to tie a knot in the resistance band (so it would be tighter) and then throw said weapon - I mean resistance band - over the door. My plan was to close the door on the band so the knot was on one side and I on the other and then pull down on the band instead of pulling my body up over a bar. That's actually how the perky girl in the DVD who also uses bands does it....except hers isn't thrown over a door. And it doesn't have a knot in it. Regardless, I got on my knees so I would have to pull further and harder and proceeded to stretch the band towards my head in a wide grip, just as Stalin instructed me to. JUST as the band was pulled as tightly as it possibly could be, the door opened just enough to let my "safety knot" through and said knot came flying at my face at full speed and hit me directly in my OPEN eyeball. I basically popped myself in the eyeball with a six foot long, two inch wide rubber band that was tied in a knot and pulled as tightly as it could be without breaking. To say this "hurt" is terribly insulting to the English language. There are really no words.

I am not positive, but I think I blacked out for a moment or two. Then I saw stars and got tunnel vision and felt nauseous and saw white lights and knew that I was either dead or having a near death experience. OR that I was dreaming that I was at that Pink Floyd laser light thing that I saw at some planetarium when I was a kid. I knew I must be alive when I heard a voice repeatedly saying "oh my God, oh my God" and realized it was mine. I laid on my hardwood floor for about three minutes fighting off the urge to vomit, then began wondering if I was going to have to call an ambulance. I staggered to my water bottle, took a sip and collapsed on the couch, begging God to miraculously and spontaneously turn off my DVD player so I wouldn't have to hear Mao Tse-Tung screaming at me about why I was on my couch instead of doing wall squats. I managed to push pause and get to the kitchen for an ice pack. I slumped over the counter with the pack on my face for about five minutes before working up the courage to go look at my face. I was pretty sure my eyeball was going to be dangling out of the socket. Luckily, it was still in place, but definitely swelling and definitely red. My cheek was bleeding and there was a very dark red spot of what looked like blood smack dab on my iris. And I pretty much couldn't see a damn thing out of my right eye. I spent the next ten minutes digging my contact out of my eye, making the whole situation SO much better, I'm sure.

After another hour or so and several tearful phone calls to a few loved ones that were nice enough to take my call at 12:30 and give me their opinions on the odds of me being permanently blind, I decided I was going to be OK. However, just as I was heading to bed with an ice pack and ibuprofen in hand, my vision got suddenly worse. I looked in the mirror and the blood spot in my eye was completely gone. I thought that was a good thing for about 2.2 seconds until it occurred to me that the blood had to have gone somewhere and that it was perhaps hemorrhaging into my brain. This cheery thought, coupled with the fact that trying to see with my right eye felt like I was looking through an inch of Vaseline, prompted me to drive the 45 seconds - yes, with my right eye closed - to the shiny new ER near my house just to make sure I wasn't going to go blind and/or die of a blood clot in the brain.

A couple hundred bucks, two prescriptions and an hour later, I was home in bed. The nurses and doctor questioned my reason for exercising so late, asked if "anyone was with me when the accident occurred" (probably code for "do you seriously think we believe this ridiculous story? Are you sure you're not a battered wife?"), checked me out and assured me I would be back to my 20/40 - with correction -  vision in no time. And they were right. I am pretty much back to normal, save a pounding headache. I even finished the workout with Pol Pot today. But you can be sure there were no resistance bands involved. Or pull ups.