At about this time a year ago, I was preparing to board a plane to Rome, Italy.  A two-week trip with my girlfriends had been meticulously planned (work done not by me) and the months of anticipation were over!  I was finally going to see Italy, a place I had dreamed of visiting my whole life.  I couldn’t wait for all the people (men) we would meet, wine we would drink, and stories we would gather.  It’s so funny/weird to me now that I had no idea at the time that this trip would be my last big vacation as a single girl, that so much was about to change.  At the time (at every time, let’s be honest) I thought I knew so much more than I really did.  The future before me that looked to be a blank canvas had some big surprises in store.  I love that I didn’t know that–and try to remind myself now, when I wish I had more information, to just let life unfold.

For two weeks I let it unfold in the street markets and museums of Florence, the countryside and vineyards of Tuscany, the beaches of Positano, and the landmarks of Rome.  OH DEAR LORD how I miss that beauty and freedom!  I itch for it right now from this office chair in front of a computer at a school of dentistry.  Not quite the same.  Maybe a glass of Chianti would help?  Or maybe I will just relive it through my journal, which I used to record not only what happened on the trip but my thoughts and prayers each day, so that I know exactly how I felt as I was experiencing this new place.  One cool thing is that I go through the same devotional book every year (My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers) and write down quotes from each day’s writing that inspire me.  Some statements get quoted every year and are a part of my spiritual vocabulary, and others stand out to me just for that day based on whatever “life season” I’m going through.

SO…hold on to your hats, readers, because we’re taking a journey through the past to this time last year  (Cue the Wayne’s World dream sequence fuzzies)!  No money/big trip this year or blog last year means we get an excuse to relive it all!  Starting tomorrow, because it corresponds to the day we actually landed in Italy and because I’m about to go eat Mexican with the BF.  Sorry.  Cheese dip waits for no one.

It’s Monday, that most dreaded day of the week.  Worse, it’s the Monday after my week-long summer vacation.  I am spared from the back-to-work blues for another day, though, since  I don’t work on Mondays (good news:  time for trips to Trader Joe’s; bad news:  less income to buy food at Trader Joe’s).  Last week marked my family’s third annual trip to the Outer Banks.  It is without a doubt my favorite week of the year since its inception in 2007.  What could be better than seven solid days of the following schedule:  sleep in, eat, drink coffee, lie on the beach, drink beer, sit on deck with a cocktail, eat dinner, drink wine, watch a movie while drinking wine, go to bed…all while never applying an ounce of makeup or drying my hair?

The downside of it all is the return to the real world after a glorious break from it.  Turns out that New York is as gross now as it was when I left it, if not more so thanks to the ten-degree rise in temperature.  Apparently the weather forecasters had the week off too.  I walked out of my apartment at 6 pm last night and was immediately greeted with showers on my head.  The initial confusion (look up–is it an air conditioning unit leaking?  NO!) gave way to meteorologist-hatred as I remembered that weather.com had informed me it wouldn’t rain until 9 pm, and even then the chance was only 40%.  So much for preparation.

What I didn’t prepare for was packing for a day that involved something other than lying on a beach.  I opened my gym bag that doubled just a few short days ago as a beach bag.  Gone were the beer, sunscreen, and copies of US Weekly.  All that remained of my week in paradise was some sand scattered at the bottom of the bag.  I never can seem to get rid of it all, no matter how much I try each year.  And try I do, holding the bag upside down and shaking with all my might, because I know what will happen when I see those grains of bliss.  Exactly what happened this morning:  my heart plummets, a tear comes to my eye, and I start googling apartments on the shore of North Carolina.  But I forged ahead this morning, fresh off my Come To Jesus talk (with Jesus) about vacation and the realizations it rendered:  that times like these are a reminder of the heaven we were made for; that the rest gained from time away can serve to give me insight and peace where I am now; that it doesn’t all have to disappear just because the week is over.  Yes, it was a very illuminating and comforting talk.

Then I left the apartment without a sports bra on.

I was halfway down the three flights of stairs before I realized something wasn’t quite right.  I passed the genial African man mopping the floor as he stood aside for me with a strange grin on his face.  The light bulb went off (the high beams were already on) and I turned, red-faced, and climbed the steps I had just descended.  Sports bra on; all set.  This time, I made it all the way out of the building and around the corner before I realized that I didn’t have my wallet.  I briefly considered the possibility that Trader Joe’s might accept boob-peeks as a form of payment (don’t judge–do YOU walk up three flights of stairs to get home?) before I turned around and climbed back to my shoebox in the sky to retrieve my ever-thin money holder.  This time, the genial African just looked confused.

I walked down my block and sighed as I spotted the large, well-fed-looking man who wanders the street daily asking for–and I quote–84 cents for a cup of soup.  I always was suspicious of him, mainly because I don’t know of a place in this city that sells soup that cheap.  I braced myself for the inquiry then did a double-take as I passed him and realized he was TALKING ON HIS CELL PHONE.  So far, my research has not found a company that charges less than 84 cents a month for mobile coverage.

This was all before noon.  I wonder what the rest of the day will bring.  I also wonder which is crazier: the city, or me for living here?  I need another vacation.