Virginia, Visas, and...Vomit

Have you ever taken a trip where the reality of it turned out to be completely different from your expectations?

Well, that’s what happened to me on my recent trip to D.C.

It was my longest trip alone and away from my two-year-old daughter since she was born. What I expected was good times with friends I rarely see, enlightenment about the latest twists and turns in immigration law, and a free and fun-filled few days to tour and visit my favorite spots.

What I got was mostly King Street, Alexandria, Virginia; an overview of what I already knew about visas; and lots of vomit (apologies to the Jefferson Memorial groundskeeper…)

To begin with, my hotel was directly across the street from the Alexandria Courthouse, where media camped out in vans the whole time I was there in anticipation of hearings for several of the Russian spies. I was in the middle of national news every time I walked out of my hotel lobby, which I found to be amusing and totally unexpected.

Then, it turned out that my hotel was a good distance from the main street, King Street, in Alexandria. My shoe rubbed a big blister on my toe after I made the walk one time during my first night there.

Oh, and the traffic – horrendous - but I knew that. I just forgot how bad it could be until I was sitting in the middle of it on the way to and from my conference hotel, or driving twenty-minute-miles around town, or trying to get home on Saturday in what appeared to be the Fourth of July weekend parking lot on four lanes of I-85 South between D.C. and Richmond.

Aside from the location and traffic set backs, I was still enjoying Alexandria and the conference and the company of friends. I saved some of the best outings for the arrival of G, my dear college friend who just happened to be coming to D.C. the week I was there.

But my big plans for sightseeing and gallivanting around town with G were put to a quick end when she ate two soft boiled eggs during our lunch at some quasi-French corner café (that looked deceivingly quaint and European). A couple hours later, during our self-guided walking tour of the major D.C. monuments, G fell victim to food poisoning and wound up doubled over on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial unable to do anything but vomit in the grass (she was patriotic enough not to throw up on the actual monument).

G could barely move, which is when I discovered how poorly staffed those places are for any kind of health emergency. I couldn’t find a single person with authority to help her get out of there. Not even a golf cart or van or something. Nobody could tell me how to get my car from the mile-away parking lot to the circular drive next to the monument without drawing the attention of FBI and Homeland Security. Poor G was going to have to walk all the way back to my car. And she did. Such a trooper! But she was wiped out.

After all that, G insisted that we finish our monument tour by driving through the Mall area, even though poor G could only recline in the passenger seat and try to keep from vomiting again. I made it fast. Since we were so close to the Mall already, I drove around a few times, jumped out and snapped pictures, and then took G back to the hotel for some rest. As soon as we walked into the hotel room, more vomit.

Oh, poor G.

I doubt she’ll ever have soft boiled eggs again.

I won’t.

With G recovering in the hotel on the last night of my trip, I strolled alone down King Street past rows of restaurants and shops, taking pictures and wishing G felt well enough for the girls’ dinner we planned for that night. I just hated that she was sick during our visit because, living on opposite sides of the country, we rarely have time together. She came to D.C. early just to hang out with me. The last thing we expected was vomit.

Damn those eggs.

Most importantly, G was feeling better by Saturday. Unfortunately, that was the day I had to leave.

And so it goes.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I did have good times with friends (vomit excluded) and learned about Virginia and visas, but – looking back - I have to laugh about the many unexpected situations in three short days.

Just a reminder to me, plans or no plans --

Life happens.

Bluesday Tip #5: Learn from Aquariums, but there's a Catch

Today is Bluesday!

Bluesday is the first Tuesday of the month. Each Bluesday, I share a tip for How To Be Blue. Being blue is about caring for the ocean -- what we put into it, and what we take out of it.

This month's Bluesday tip: Learn from Aquariums, but there’s a catch.

Summer is upon us in the United States. We are wading through the warm (often very hot) months of June, July, and August, spending more time outside than inside, and making frequent trips to the nearest body of water -- pool, lake, river, ocean – for an escape from the heat.

With kids out of school and vacations on the horizon, now is the time not only to enjoy the ocean, but to appreciate it. One of the best ways to appreciate and care for the ocean is to learn about it and the variety of fascinating creatures that call it home.

There are many sources for ocean education, the most obvious being a trip to the beach to explore the environment first hand. To hear the heartbeat of ocean waves and to find a coiled shell in the sand usually inspires love for the ocean; however, the acts alone of standing on the beach, collecting shells, or swimming in the ocean do not guarantee newfound knowledge. Just as one needs labels to learn about paintings in a museum or a map to find historic landmarks in a city, one needs a guide of some sort to fully appreciate and learn about the ocean environment and marine creatures.

For example, on almost every trip I make to the South Carolina coast I come across a bunch of perplexed tourists standing over a beached Cannonball Jellyfish (scientific name: Stomolophus meleagris). They prod at it with dried marsh reeds, afraid to touch it because it’s a jellyfish, and jellyfish sting. Right?

Well, most of the time, yes, jellyfish sting. But the cannonball jellyfish sting is so weak that humans rarely feel a thing – believe me, I’ve picked up more than my fair share of cannonball jellies to demonstrate their harmless nature to newbie beachgoers (it is important to note that cannonball jelly toxin does irritate human eyes – so don’t touch your eyes after touching this jellyfish). In Japan, cannonball jellyfish are considered a delicacy.

Funny fact: A school of jellyfish is called a smack.

And all of this discussion about jellyfish brings me back to my main point – learn about the ocean and its creatures. You just did! You now know more about cannonball jellyfish than most people on the beach this summer.

And I know just where to learn even more…

Aquariums!

Before (or during) your trip to the beach this summer, visit an aquarium for a full ocean education. Like museum labels and city maps, aquariums are excellent sources of information. Aquariums allow a rare, up-close view of live marine creatures – those you may see on the beach and many you have never seen (and may never see) in the wild. Show your children the wonders of the underwater world and inspire their lifelong love of the ocean.

But, there’s a catch.

While established large-scale city and state aquariums are excellent sources for learning about the ocean world, individual aquariums kept in offices, restaurants, public places, and private homes often do more harm than good. Tropical fish sold for small aquariums are usually caught in the wild using unsustainable and destructive methods.

To avoid the catch of an aquarium that harms the ocean, make sure to follow these general rules (and suggest to owners of individual aquariums at local businesses that they do the same):

Don’t buy live saltwater fish caught in the wild for your aquarium. The fishing methods used for the live fish trade include such things as cyaniding and dynamiting, which destroy the marine environment. Every year in the U.S. alone, hundreds of thousands of young and rare tropical reef fish die in small aquariums.

Buy only Marine Aquarium Council (www.aquariumcouncil.org) certified fish to be sure that your fish are sustainably caught or reared in captivity. Encourage local businesses to buy MAC certified fish for their aquariums.

Never return aquarium fish to the ocean or any body of water because doing so could introduce non-native species that may disrupt the delicate balance of marine ecosystems.

To be blue this month, learn more about the ocean and its creatures by visiting beaches and aquariums, but beware of the aquarium catch.

The more we learn about the ocean, the more we will care about protecting it. We will discover that, like the cannonball jellyfish, the ocean is full of contradictions and exceptions to common sense rules…

When caught in a riptide, don’t try to swim toward the shore (and directly against the pull of the tide), but rather swim parallel to the shore and eventually out of the tide.

The best way to care for the ocean is to learn about it and teach others. Some knowledge may help us identify marine creatures on the beach (cannonball jellyfish), while some knowledge may save a life (surviving a riptide).

May you turn a deeper shade of blue with each passing month!

State Of Mind

While running my boring errands today, I saw something very interesting.

I had to drive into South Carolina, which was about forty minutes out of my way. It would have been an uneventful trip if I knew exactly where I was going. But I didn’t.

I was looking for a small bank along a wide stretch of road with lots of traffic. That’s why I noticed the sign marking the state line. I needed to know when I crossed into South Carolina so that I knew to look for my destination soon after that. What I didn’t expect to see was what sat on the property behind the state line sign – a house.

The state line sliced right through the middle of a house!

Well, that brought up all kinds of questions in my head, questions that distracted me until I finally found the bank.

First of all, how did such a thing happen? Did the owner of the house choose to build it on the line? Or did the state move the line after the house was built?

Second, where do “they” – the people in the house – live? In North Carolina or in South Carolina? Both, I guess. But that doesn’t work for a mailing address. Do they live where they eat, or where they sleep (which could be in two different states)? Do they live in the state with the front door? Then, to digress, I ended up on a train of thought about where we each live – do we live where our house is, or where we work, or where we get the most out of life…? Does an address really have anything to do with where we actually live?

Perhaps the only state that matters is state of mind.

Hmm…

And getting back to the state line house…

Do they have to pay income tax in both states? Do they split property taxes down the middle between North and South Carolina?

What about a driver’s license and a license plate? Which state?

Can they vote in both states?

My list went on and on. The state line house brought up so many questions that I don’t understand why anyone would want to live in it.

Maybe they have kids in college and came up with this brilliant plan to qualify for in-state tuition in both states.

I must admit, it isn’t such a bad idea…

Have you ever seen a state line house? What would you ask?

Poetry Snack

Open ocean all around me,
And land nowhere in sight.
Then again it becomes morning.
Then again it becomes night.

My Dad

My dad isn’t here this Father’s Day.

For the first time in my life, I face Father’s Day without my father.

He died nine months ago, on a Wednesday. I was there beside his hospital bed.

I was there.

But I still can’t believe it.

So, even though I want a happy Father’s Day for my husband -- and for all the other fathers out there -- I’m sad.

I’m just too sad.

I wish I could hug my dad today. I wish I could talk to him and hear him answer and see his face (for real, not just in pictures) and look into his eyes. I wish we could play Quoridor fifty times in a row, or however many times it would take for him to be the “Champion” and for me to remain the “Champion-to-be”…

He’ll always be the Champion -- my Champion.

I wish he could play with my daughter, lift her up and feel her giggling in his arms. I wish I could tell him that he was the greatest dad. My life will never be the same without him.

I wish, I wish, I wish…

For my sister and brother and mom, my endless love and many hugs. I know how you feel. I’m thinking of you.

For my family and friends without fathers this Father’s Day, my love and deepest sympathy.

Remember him.

“They lived and laughed and loved and left.” ~James Joyce

“[A] final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works.” ~T.E. Kalem

I love you, Dad.

I miss you every day.

Always yours,
KJ of America

Poetry Snack

Water runs. Time flies. Light dances. Wind dies.
We don't need legs or hearts or wings to do the very simple things.

Moonlight

I spent an hour on the beach at midnight a few weeks ago, gazing at the biggest and brightest full moon. It rose over the ocean, shining on the waves like quicksilver, so bright I could see my shadow.

Other people were out there – my fellow night owls drawn to bask in moonlight - walking beside calm low tide waves. With my mind adrift, I almost forgot that all the morning people were sleeping. They were missing an amazing moon!

I’ve come to accept that most people are morning people. That’s okay. Based on the several dozen sunrises I’ve seen (admittedly, about a dozen of those after pulling all-nighters), I understand the appeal of songbirds and dewy grass. Early morning has a different though equally beautiful rhythm and freshness.

But I’ve always relished the dark and quiet post-midnight hours.

I just love to stay up late.

That night on the beach, spellbound by the moon, I thought about life and dreams, time and how to spend it, what matters and what should matter. And then it dawned on me (no pun intended) – it doesn’t matter what time of day we each favor so long as we find time to pursue our dreams. Whether middle day or middle night, sunrise or sunset, we each have a favorite time when the rest of the world seems fast asleep. A time when we sit and unwind, or we focus and create, or we exercise and practice...until we become who we want to be.

I know talk of dreams often sounds idealistic and warm-fuzzy (try to ignore the little cynic on your shoulder). This isn’t a new concept. But we all need reminding that our dreams are out there and worth our time.

So, here’s a reminder.

Find your time. Live your dream.

The full moon reminded me of how best to work toward my dream…

I’ll be moonlighting!