Home Again, Home Again

I never before gave much credit to so-called "jet lag."

But last Wednesday, I arrived at an airport in Tennessee at approximately 5:45 p.m. Spent the next approximately eleven hours in airplanes or airports, but arrived home at only 1:30 a.m. And I was wakened by 7:30 a.m. by my sibling's glad news: six inches of snow blanketed the ground and trees!I haven't seen more than inch or so of snow for the last five years, so I didn't intend to sleep the accumulation away. But my eyelids were so heavy still... After all, bodies aren't really intended to be kept awake for more than twenty hours at a pop. I struck a compromise.

I lent the kids my camera to take snow pictures, took an aspirin for an oncoming headache, and headed back to bed...with one condition:

"Wake me up when it starts to melt," I instructed, knowing that it could hardly start really-for-sure melting for at least another hour. Maybe two.

About seven minutes later, Peter was by my bed.

"It's melting," he informed me, cheerfully.

I groaned. "Melting? I doubt it."

"But it's steaming all over," he assured.

"No, no, no, no, no.......let me know when it's dripping!!" I specified.

It was perhaps a fifteen minute delay this time. I didn't know "dripping" could have such a broad definition. I think he must have been staring at the closest icicle, waiting for a drop to fall. Or maybe three drops.

Oh well. The snowball fight was totally worth it. So was our somewhat sickly looking snowman.

And though it did take three days for my body to really set itself back three hours, at least I will sympathize with the next person who complains about "jet lag."

My trip, by the way, was fantastic. I had a delightful week in "paradise" to begin with. That is the local name for the "Valley of the Sun," where my grandparents live in the Phoenix area. I felt like I was in another world, with palm trees, citric fruit trees, and seventy to eighty degree weather. February didn't seem real.

And I loved visiting with my grandparents. I admit, they spoiled me to death. But I'm not one to complain.

My twelve days with my friend in Georgia was great. I enjoyed being in genuine Bible belt country, rather a different cultural feel. And, don't worry...I wasn't too snobbish about the hills they called mountains. Further, I successfully avoided complaining about making new friends, eating tons of Brasilian food, watching Anne of Green Gables for the first time, and talking late at night. I'm not one to complain, after all.

No, wait. I'm not one to complain....often.

In my dream world, airplane seats would have an extra foot of elbow room on each side. Flights would always be on time. And jet lag wouldn't exist.