Travel Day

Travel days are tough. Planning a trip is so much fun, I tend to forget the sacrifice of hours of packing, getting to the airport, then getting through security and customs so that we can be packed into a tin vessel miles above the earth for half a day. And that when we finally land, we're in a different time zone and we're motion woozy and hungry and have to pee and can't read the signs all at the same time, and when someone speaks to us in a foreign language, we want to admit that we can barely form our own names, much less conjugate French/Spanish/Italian/Catalan/East Texan...

I'm writing this on the second hop of our journey to Barcelona. On the first flight, I watched the final Twilight movie, played solitaire with Emme, and got chewed out by the pilot (don't ask). Thank god for the French, though - Charles de Gaulle has it's fair share of amazing "fast" food (picture of my bulgar and salt-cured tuna salad below). 

This flight is far shorter, which is great because we are far less energetic than when we left California. Emme is passed out next to me, sprawled on the tray table and her stuffed penguin; she was an ashy green color as we waited for this flight on our layover in Paris and I'm surprised she even made it onto the plane. Serena and Marlowe are laying across Raf, who is trying to catch some Zs in the small seat between them. I've slept a bunch today/yesterday... or am I now in tomorrow?... and I'm too out of it to get excited about being 30 minutes from Barcelona...

But... I have a feeling we'll get there.... And we won't want to leave...