Reflections on a Spontaneous Road Trip Fail

train-backI know I’ve grown quiet lately. You can probably accurately guess that this means I’ve also grown lethargic again, too. Upon thinking about how I’ve let this summer chew me up and spit me out, I decided to revisit the old blog and try and find some inspiration from the past. Oddly, what I did find was a post lurking in my “drafts” folder that I apparently never actually published from LAST summer, which made me feel better than some of the posts that I did publish. That’s probably because I’m in the middle of another weird-as-heck summer with a new boss (again) and new stresses. (The kids go back to school next week, and my baby starts kindergarten. I feel old and obsolete.)

Anyway, rather than write something new today, I decided to finally click “publish” on this. It sums up me as a traveler pretty well. (Spoiler Alert: I am a terrible traveling companion. I’m working on it, but I still fail a lot.)

Anyway, below is the account of last year’s Fourth of July. This year’s was much better — the kids finished their baseball season before dusk and we headed to the local minor league stadium for some bleacher-bumming and fireworks. No train-union strikes or blisters were involved this year, which is good but doesn’t make for as interesting reading as the story below…

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Road Trip Food Anxiety

You guys.

Why do road trips always happen right when I finally get my health-mojo fired back up and start burning calories and toning? Without fail, every time I see the scale move significantly for the first time in ages, the magical travel fairy waves her wand over my house and…ta-dah! Road trip happens.

Which means Huddle House happens.

Cracker Barrel happens.

Six dollars’ worth of gummy bears bought at a gas station and quietly scarfed in the front seat while the kids nap in the backseat happens.

And then reckless abandon follows me all the days of my life. Or at least until my bras start hurting again.

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