Traveling with a carry-on? I'm a girl, dammit!

There are phases/stages for many things: grief, the hero's journey, pregnancy, etc. When my husband first suggested that we go overseas for two weeks with nothing more than carry-on luggage (backpacks, mind you- not even wheels), I didn't think there would be any stages to my process, because my answer was NO. Unequivocally, unshakably- NO.

But, he's persistent. He works like an ear worm that has you singing a song all day, without meaning to. He laid the idea-egg and then sat on it. He encouraged me to look at articles about packing light from Rick Steves and Johnny Jet. But those are men...of course they can "pack light". Then I found several women who successfully pack light and look great and out of pure spite, if nothing else, I decided to give it a go.

First, I needed the right size bag. I looked up bags that were good for my size and needs, and then compared prices. While I would love a Tortuga bag, it felt like a bad move. What if I hate this pack light business and never try it again?! So, I checked Wirecutter and looked at what made a good carry-on, well, a good carry-on. After several days of looking at endless bags, I decided to go with this one.

I like this one because it unzips all the way around, like a suitcase, rather than having just a top opening, like a regular backpack, making it easier to access my clothes. Plus, the bag itself doesn't weigh very much and all of this has to go on my back, fully loaded, so that was essential. After adding a WonderWoman patch to it, I was ready to go! err, almost. Most, if not all, airlines allow a carry-on and a personal item. On a short trip, that's this bag and my purse, but on a long trip, space is key. So, I minimized my purse-type things (ie. don't need my checkbook in Europe, probably don't need 12 shades of lipstick, either) and put the purse-type items inside this bag that I bought! Then I packed my small empty purse in my backpack. By the way, I have a Travelon backpack purse that is scan- and cut-resistant that I love to travel with. Keeps my credit cards, money, passport, etc. secure, and it's just big enough for an umbrella, if needed. Plus it's really cute.

But can we just admire this kitty "personal item" bag for a second please...?

You don't have to love it as much as I do, it's okay. But I made sure to get one with a zipper so it could go under the airplane seat without spilling and voila! I had extra packing space. And I definitely knew this was my bag if there was ever a pile-of-bags issue. Not that I expected one, but a gal has to be prepared. 

I also bought some compression packing cubes like these and these to compartmentalize things a little better. Might seem like overkill in a small bag, but I never had to search for my socks, so that's a win in my book.

So, now that I had the bags taken care of, it was time to focus on the packing, or rather...HOW THE HELL DO I FIT ALL MY STUFF IN THIS?!

I looked at several "packing light for women" sites- mostly blogs- to get an idea of how others have done it. Yes, I LOVE Rick Steves, but his fashion priorities are completely different than mine. The advice from the women's sites and Rick and Johnny's sites that I found most useful was:

1. Choose a color scheme and run with it. I like greys and blacks. I base my bottom colors on that and add in a pair of jeans or two to pair with grey or black tops. I add in color with accessories, shoes, etc. You can do the same if you're into navy and white, earth tones, or whatever else may float your boat. Sticking with coordinating colors means that you can mix and match the items you bring, so you don't have to pack "outfits", per say.
2. Wear your heaviest/largest shoes or boots on the plane. The biggest squeezing when packing for carry-on travel always comes from the shoes. If it's fall, I might wear boots on the plane and pack 2 other style flats or walking shoes in the bag. Saves space every time! Same goes for jackets or heavy sweaters- wear it on the plane.
3. Remember that you'll want to shop, at least, a little. The easiest and most versatile accessory to dress something up with, or change the look of something you've already worn, is a scarf. But that's also one of the best things to treat yourself to when traveling. And then you always have it. Umbrellas are good for that, too. And, while you're shopping, you may start to wish you had a bigger bag for your purchases. I bring a cheap fold-up duffel bag with me, put all of my purchases, or dirty clothes, or whatever, in it and check it on the flight home. Once I'm home, it's no big deal to grab one small bag from the carousel and throw it in a car.
4. Unless you're traveling somewhere far from modern life, you can find what you need there. If my bag is getting full, I'll forgo some of the items like face wipes that I might otherwise pack, in favor of popping into a Boots , or someplace similar, when I arrive at my destination.
5. Laundry service is the best! If I'm on a long trip and running out of fresh, or fresh-ish, items, I'll send out my laundry mid-way through the trip. Google nearby services. They are always a fraction of the cost of having the hotel do your laundry, and they will pick up and drop off at the front desk or concierge at your hotel. Easy peasy.

The key to making this work, is to accept the challenge. After you've travelled without heavy bags or without having to wait for checked bags, you'll be sold! I've packed this way for a 5-day trip, or a 2-3 week trip and it always works.

The way it works best for me- I put all of my clothes (rolled, of course), shoes, accessories, makeup, brush, and empty purse in the backpack. In the KittyKarryon (that's what her name is), I pack my iPad and phone, chargers, passports and travel docs, snacks, medication, and anything else that I feel like I want in my possession at all times. And I'm off! 

All of the items I mentioned are available through the links, if you click on the highlighted words. Some of the best sites I found for ideas on what to pack, not just how to pack, are listed below.

HAPPY TRAVELS!

Keep Calm and Carry-On: How To Travel With Carry-On Only

Women’s Packing List: How to Pack in Only a Carry-on

The Travel Capsule Wardrobe: The Rule Of 3

The perfect time to shop for flights does not exist.

If you've travelled, then you've been there. Searching months out for the perfect flight- for me, perfect = cheap, without settling for 23 hours of travel on what should be 11 hrs max- and worrying about missing a good fare, but balancing that with uncertain plans. There are thousands of posts to read through that offer advice on when you should buy tickets. Most of them suggest 6 weeks to 3 months out. Some recommend using different browsers to get accurate fares, without pesky cookies knowing that you're looking for that particular route. Opinions vary on what day is best to travel (usually Tuesday or Wednesday/ avoid weekends/ etc.). It's a lot to digest.

I've always been an intense planner. I like to lay out the major travel info- flights, maps, lodging, etc- before we leave, so that we are free to do whatever the hell we feel like when we arrive. No need to spend time planning when we're on vacation. I do this with domestic flights, road trips...no vacation is too small to plan the logistical details. Three years ago, when we had the opportunity to go to Europe for 7 weeks, I turned into a planning freak!( I seriously could have planned 18 other vacations with the amount of info I dug up.) Four people, four countries, tight budget.

I figured out a rough estimate of our budget and kept a spreadsheet of where we were and how much went to what.

That was probably the first time that I read hundreds of blogs and articles about the best time to buy airfare. At the time, almost every site suggested that we book the flights three months in advance. Because we were going to so many different places, we considered a multi-city flight. That way, we could fly into Ireland, but fly out of London. In some cases, the fares can be fantastic for those arrangements...but it was not going that way for us. It was far more affordable to fly roundtrip from Ireland- which was fine because we were using different travel methods once we were on the other side of the ocean, but it also meant one more flight back to Ireland from London. Flights were crazy expensive no matter what, so we erred on the side of caution and booked them 3-4 months out. That amounted to $1365 ea. for the international flights. We flew Delta and upgraded to Comfort+ (which really doesn't matter at all if there is a small crying baby behind you on the flight- save your dough).

Once that was decided on, I started making the other flight and train plans, which was ridiculously easy. Honestly, why can't I fly around the US with the ease that I flew all over Europe? Cheap flights, direct routes...heaven, I tell ya. I could also give a full review on Aer Lingus, Vueling, EasyJet, and RyanAir...but that's getting way off topic. The only thing to know there is this: if you're planning flights through any of those, book either really early or really late. On the late end you risk no flight availability, but if the flights aren't full, all of those airlines offer last minute getaway deals.
Which brings me to the point of this blog: When to book travel. In short- whenever you damn well feel like it. Honestly, if it feels like a bad deal and you want to wait, then do it. Again, you risk the flights selling out, but you may get a better price.

So- here we are, preparing to go back overseas. We knew this trip was on the horizon. We've wanted to go back since the day we left, but couldn't seem to make it work....but it might at any given time! This leaves me in perpetual travel planning mode. I check Kayak and Google Flights nearly as often as I check my email or Facebook. Last November, I found gold. British Airways had just announced that they would offer nonstop flights from New Orleans to London, beginning in March. The flights for the days we were considering, were just over $800 each (did I mention that's nonstop?!). But it was so far out, that we felt like anything could have happened between then and summer and we didn't want to be locked into $3200 of airfare and have to lose it or force the trip. So, we (insert my level-headed husband after dealing with my whining) decided that it wasn't the right call. We let it go....and from then on, I watched those prices climb way out of our reach and, as summer drew closer, it started to look like we wouldn't go...again.

So, it's summer. The kids are out of school. Our oldest is preparing to go to college in the fall. I break my toe. Days are slipping by. It didn't look like it would happen this year either. The flights had all been about $1400, with nonstop as high as $1700, and we were resigned to the unlikelihood that the trip would work out.

Way back when we started playing with the idea of going this summer, I got on Hilton.com and booked a room in Kensington that had a great points + cash option. So, all the while we've been thinking about going to London, we've had this room just sitting there waiting for us...just in case. A couple weeks ago I looked on Kayak and the flights had gone down to $900. I flipped. This was the best deal I'd seen in many months and, if we were going to go at all, this was our shot. Insert level-headed husband again...we weren't exactly prepared to pull the trigger on $3600 in flights and he was busy with work and, basically, by the time I talked him around it a few times, the prices had gone back up. It all happened in one night.

The next week, we're sitting in the living room at 9pm on a Friday night and I glance (now, at this point, I was a little over it. I really didn't think we'd go and was prepared to cancel the hotel pretty soon). 9pm. Friday night. 31 days before the flight. None of the articles or blogs prepared me for this. The flights were $700 for our exact dates. Cringing, I look at my husband, who responds with "DO IT". So, we did. For a friggin fraction of what it cost us last time, we're going back to London. Insert happy dance....and immediate anxiety....but happy, nonetheless.

Another friend has been looking for flights since that night to join us for a soccer match and they're hovering around $1280. They went as low as $890, but he's holding out for a $700 fare that may never happen again. And I get it. But the point is, if anything has been learned over the years of booking our own flights and staying on top of cost trends, it's that you just never know. Maybe the stars align a little differently. Maybe someone in the fares department drooled on the board. But, whatever it is, the price drops do happen, and they have absolutely no obvious rhyme or rhythm. The only reliable advice that I read and would happily pass along is to look often and be as flexible as possible.
Happy hunting!

We're Doing So Well: 2300 Words For My Mom

We’re Doing So Well

            Last Saturday morning my sister, Lacy, called me. I’d just been sitting down on the balcony of my beachfront rental with a cup of coffee. It was the first morning of my birthday trip. I didn’t answer the first time the phone rang. Lacy had been having a rough few weeks in her personal life and I just really needed to have this short break, without any dramatic interludes. I had already told her to give me a few days and I would call her on Tuesday. But she called again a minute later. I answered, thinking I could just deal with whatever it was and then stretch out on the beach for the rest of the day. She was crying. She apologized for calling. She hated to do this. She cried more.

“Mom died”.

            My birthday is a blur. My sister fell apart for several days. My grandmother developed a stoic disposition, a disconnected look in her eye. My aunts struggled to reconcile what they knew of my mother with what was lost on Saturday. We all fought with what was lost a long time ago. Arrangements were made. The coroner confirmed our suspicions. We had a two-hour visitation, followed by a small memorial service that was filled with words like “demons”, “sorry”, and “forgiveness”. I have four level-headed, hilarious aunts, who will call me their sister before their niece. I have one aunt who is an addict. The addict sobbed and failed to see how much my grandmother dreads receiving another call like the one she got for my mom. My oldest aunt sang during the service and told a giggle-inducing story about my mom as a child, denying her guilt about writing on a wall, but then telling my nana where she got the marker, without realizing she was admitting guilt. I listened and smiled and tried so hard to remember just one time that I had with my mom that didn’t involve drugs or alcohol or abandonment. I’m still trying.

            My mom lied a lot, and she was really bad at it. She would say she hadn’t been in my grandmother’s office and hadn’t taken the missing money- but then she would have to go back there and retrieve her keys from where she left them on the desk. She once told the police that she was driving erratically because I was sick in the backseat and needed to get to the hospital. In reality, I had been fine when we left the house, but she was high and ran off the road, causing me to fly across the back seat and slam my head into the side of the car. I wasn’t sick- I had a concussion. He let us go.

            The earliest memories that my aunts or grandmother have of me as a baby almost always involve rescuing me. There was that time when I was less than a year old and my mom showed up at my aunt’s door and asked her to babysit for the night. I was covered head-to-toe in scabies and was very sick, but smiling. My aunt and her husband rushed me to the doctor. My mom didn’t come back for three months. When she did, my uncle wasn’t home and my aunt was pregnant. She pushed past her and took me. I’ve known that story for a couple of years. A few days ago my grandmother told me about the time when I was a toddler and my mom left me in a trashed, hoarder house in another city and some stranger called my grandmother and told her, “Somebody needs to come get this kid”. There are other stories just like those.

            The thing is, I never felt sorry for myself. I didn’t know that I was trash or that everybody could see right through my situation. I just thought it was the hand I was dealt. I traveled all over with her. We moved to Texas and Tennessee and Arizona- all just because she would reach a point where she had to make a fresh start, where no one knew her. So, I would do half the driving and I would go to the local school and enroll myself and make new friends. I eventually dropped out of high school and got my GED and applied to college. The dorm was the first stable home I’d had in years. I got a part time job and sent money to my mom in a halfway house that she was in at the time.

            Some of the times we spent together were fun. When we moved to Nashville, we rode a mechanical bull and toured some gorgeous historical properties. We sang with the karaoke cowboys and I slept on the sofas of strangers, while she slept in their beds. I remember other things- events and experiences- but I’ll be damned if I can remember one single thing that doesn’t conjure an image of cans and bottles and reckless driving, or the smell of marijuana. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t base her personal value on her high or her man.

            There were two times when I knew how bad it really was. Once when I was 11, I found a journal she wrote during one of her rehab stints. She wrote of regret and abortion and she pleaded with her own mind to reconcile the past and prayed for a better future. I found that paper on day 3 of a 5-day bender period when she didn’t come home. I fed my 4-year-old sister plain oatmeal and a can of tuna with mustard. She came in with groceries on the last day. The other time was when I was 15 or 16 and I went with her to check into rehab. I sat next to her as she told the stone-faced intake nurse the last time she’d done any of the drugs or activities on the admit checklist: Smoked crack- last week. Cocaine- today. Smoked pot- today. Sold sex for drugs- last month. That was the time just before I went to college. I wish I could say things got better after that, but nothing changed.

            My sister lived with her dad during those years. She didn’t know the full story about mom until she was much older. She didn’t live in the midst of it all until she was in her 20s. By then, I was out. I met my husband when I was 19 and moved three hours away to New Orleans. I was sad when I had my first child and my mom didn’t come to the hospital. My grandmother drove down and offered to pick my mother up on her way out of town, but mom said she couldn’t come- something came up. When that baby turned three, I asked my mom to come to his birthday party. My then-teenage sister was in town for the summer and came with her for the party. I was 6 months pregnant. Mom said they would be more comfortable at a hotel. They stayed at the house for a couple of hours and then drove to a hotel where my mother left my young sister in the room, in a strange city, and went to two different hospitals claiming to have fallen down the stairs and asking for morphine. They were supposed to come have breakfast and go with me to see my new house- the first that I’d ever owned and hadn’t even moved into yet- but they left town without a word. I knew a little about what happened from my sister and I was so hurt for both of us. Mom didn’t come to the hospital when I had my second child three months later.

            Something happened when I had kids. I would think about having to see my mother, either because I would visit my family near her or because she would talk of coming to my house, and I would get really mad and protective. I stopped seeing her or letting her know when I went to my grandmother’s house or the town where she lived. It made my grandmother sad and she would always say the words that worked my nerves like nails on a chalkboard- “She’s doing so good”. Oh! Those words!! Is she a fucking toddler learning to hold a fork? Is she getting good grades in school?.. In the meantime, I would hear the drug stories from her friends and other relatives. Once in a while, I’d run into her. The rapidity of her aging was just astonishing. She very quickly began to look older than her mother. My own skin got thicker. When I would think about the things that I saw and experienced as a child, I would become enraged at the thought of my children even knowing that circumstances like those existed.

            As my boys got older, they began to ask questions about my mom- why they didn’t know her, etc. I never lied. I told them that my mom drank a lot of alcohol and was on drugs and that it wasn’t healthy for them to be around her. I told them that drugs destroy lives and families. My husband and I told them of professional athletes and promising young people who tried drugs just one time and died. Slowly, I gave them information that painted an image of what happens to your life if you survive the first high and search for the next one. I protected them from witnessing it for themselves. I shut off the valve of pain and embarrassment and guilt that plagued me in my attempts to look away from the train wreck.

One week ago today, my mom took a Fentanyl patch from an elderly lady that she had been sitting with and put it in her mouth. She was found face down on the floor.

            It’s so bizarre to have people look at you and wonder how you feel and how you’ll react when something this big has just happened. My estrangement from my mother was 13 years long when she died. In the last three years, I’ve seen her twice- once for a funeral and once for a wedding. We spoke. We hugged. I tried to stay away from her. She was always loaded. I worried more about her talking to my kids. They knew she was messed up and they were able to see all of the things that I’d tried to teach them over the years. It was After School Special-level education. In both instances, we all got back in the car and drove away from that troublesome situation as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I hated to hurt my grandmother and my sister- who now lives near her and tried desperately to help mom in the last 5 years of her life- but I made that decision for my boys and for my own sanity and it was the right choice- no doubt about it. Then she died. I’m not sure if people thought that I would regret the distance between us or if they thought that I would feel nothing at all, but they definitely expected something close to one of those reactions.

            I sat there on the balcony that morning and made some necessary calls and wept. Then I pulled it together and went inside. I put one foot in front of the other, sometimes even managing a smile, and sat on the beach until the evening and then excused myself to my room to rest and make a call. And then I fell apart. I shook and cried so loudly that I was sure the walls would come down. There was no controlling it. And there was no sleep to be had at the end of it.

            You see, for all of the years that I protected my kids from the pain and uncertainty that comes with a loved one’s addiction, I stayed strong. I didn’t know it. I didn’t feel it. I just did it. The day I laid that shield down, I hurt so badly. I desperately mourned the relationship that addiction took away from me so damn long ago. All of the things that I thought would make her clean up- my love, my kids, her health, my sister- didn’t make a dent in the addictive shell that she hid inside of. I would see her and she would slur, “I’m doing so well”. And I would grind my fucking teeth. So, I don’t know what they- whoever all the “Theys” are- thought they would see in me when she died, but they saw anger and grief and disgust and abandonment. In my very dark humor (hi- nice to meet you), I said to my sister that, if I had to have a 2-hour visitation for my mom’s friends, I would stand at the door greeting people and introducing them to their future. Of course, I smiled and thanked them for coming.

            I wish I could say you should reconcile your relationships and hold your loved ones close, but I don’t regret not watching her descend into who she was just before the end. Instead, my wish is for the addicts: I don’t know why my mom never decided that sobriety was what she truly wanted for the rest of her life. I do know that no one can help you if you don’t desperately want help from the bottom of your soul. So, for those who think it never affects others- that it is just them judging you and trying to tell you how to live your life- my wish is that you find the piece of your puzzle that helps you see the truth, makes you crave a clear sober future, and allows you to value yourself as much as the rest of us wish you would let us value you.

Mom- 1993

Mom- 2016

It's like it's gone.

I’m gonna put this out there once, and then I’m going to leave it alone.

Tropical Storm Lee

So, it's raining. I don't mean a little. I mean it's really, really raining. My plan was to go visit family this weekend, as my birthday is tomorrow. Instead, I'm home. But my house isn't flooding and my power isn't out, so I'm doing better than a lot of families in the area.

We are using this indoor opportunity to organize our house and check off a few projects. Unfortunately, when you say project, I think BUILD, and it's way too wet out for that. So, I'm cleaning and planning to build instead.
I have, however, built a few things that I haven't posted about and thought, since I can't build, I can share.

Project number 1: Tv and game/book storage for my son. Found a plan for a modular desk on Ana-White.com and applied my needed measurements. It was my first big build with my new toys..err tools.

Project number 2: Creating a desk for myself. had an extra solid wood door hanging our and decided to get crafty. Cut, ad legs, finish, and VOILA!

Project number 3: Bookshelf to go with said table/desk/door...made from scraps from other two projects.

I also outfitted my oldest son's closet and my husband's closet. Mine is next.

The Hub is now up and ready for coffee rambling....more to come later.

A year...

So, this started purely as a cooking blog. I had some new recipes and was having lots of luck with my yummies, so I thought I'd share it. But then, I looked up and an entire year had passed since I'd last posted. While I'm still cooking (my husband would disagree), I'm also doing many other things and so this blog is sort of naturally changing in what it means to me.

In the past year since my last post, I've started school, finished a year with a 4.0 gpa, done several renovations on my home, and discovered a love for power tools. So, while I may still share recipes from time to time, my upcoming posts will also show reno projects and the furniture and projects that the power tools have created.

Now, let's try this blogging thing again.................

One Sassy Sauce..or saucy sass.

One less item that I'll be buying precooked. =)

Tomato Herb Pasta Sauce

5 tomatoes, diced, big chunks (Locally grown if possible)(you may also sub a large can of crushed tomatoes)
1/2 yellow onion, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
2 med. carrots, chopped
3 tbls olive oil
1 tbls basil
1 garlic clove or 1.5 tsp minced garlic
1 tbls oregano
Salt and Pepper
1/2 c white wine (optional)

In a dutch oven or stock pot (5 or 6 quart pot), heat olive oil over med heat. Add in onion, celery, and carrots. Lower heat and simmer for about 6 minutes. add garlic and simmer for 5 more minutes. (If you are making a meaty sauce, now would be the time to add in the meat and brown it. We had grass fed lean beef in the lasagna and it was tasty.) Add basil, oregano, salt/pepper, and wine. 5 more minutes, then add tomatoes. Don't worry about it looking like a big tomato salad. The tomatoes will cook down and will provide all of the liquid that you'll need. Cover and cook for two hours, stirring occasionally. Then uncover and cook for an additional 30 min or until sauce has cooked down to your desired consistency. Serve over pasta.
This will also keep nicely in the fridge for up to a week. The tomatoes take care of the preservation.

A couple of hints about this recipe~ The tomatoes do not need to be cut into small pieces. It will not cut down your cook time to cut them smaller. the time is needed for the flavors to meld together.
Also, some people may prefer to blanche and peel the tomatoes... I don't mind the skin. That is also why I offered the canned solution. And, depending on the season, the can may be more cost-effective.
Also, if you go with the meat option, choose a very lean meat. Otherwise, you'll need to brown it with the onions, celery, and carrots and then drain it. No bueno. That's a waste of flavor!

Prep time: 10 min.
Cook time: 2 to 3 hours (but, like the bread, it won't require your attention)

Enjoy!