Life Is Too Short

Today I received some incredibly sad news.  One of the lawyers in my community has been battling cancer for about a year and a half, and recently took a turn for the worse.  The prognosis is not good.  I had the opportunity to get to know this woman through the state bar’s women in the law committee.  I won’t say that we know each other well, but through our subcommittee work I came to know her abilities as an attorney, her reputation in the community, her dedication to family, and her resilient attitude.

She started a blog to keep family, friends and colleagues apprised of how things were going.  Post after post described what can only be considered bleak diagnoses – the cancer had spread from her leg, to her lungs, and eventually to her brain.  Yet despite this, her posts were always focused on the good things that were happening – the time she was spending with her family, the successful treatments, the potential for recovery, regardless of how slim.

I admire her ability to remain positive in the face of something so unpredictable and scary.  Every time I saw her, she was always smiling, happy, and upbeat.  I don’t know that I would be able to be as strong as she if I were faced with such devastating news.  I mean, my heart breaks and my eyes fill with tears every time I think about her situation and her two young sons.

When I received the email from our committee chair this afternoon, I felt my heart sink.  I had been expecting this news for a few weeks, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.  I can’t help but think how unfair it is that this young, beautiful woman who has been raising two boys on her own while opening and maintaining a successful family law practice will be taken from the world in the prime of her life.

This tragic situation has made me start to reevaluate things.  The whole purpose of this blog is to find a way to follow my dreams, find my passion.  Now, more than ever, it seems paramount to love what I do.  But life is short.  Moments are fleeting.  I have to start enjoying every day that I have despite hating my job. I can’t take for granted my husband, my family, my dogs or my friends.  They might not be here tomorrow.  I might not be here tomorrow.  I have to make the most of what every day gives me, and take a lesson from my colleague to always focus on the positive.  I think it’s a lesson we could all take to heart.  Do me (and you) a favor – hug your loved ones and tell them how much they mean to you.  Do it every day.  You won’t regret it.

One Hundred

Over the weekend I realized that I was nearing my 100th post.  I couldn’t believe it.  A few weeks ago I would have thought it would take me forever to hit 100.  I’m proud of the accomplishment, although there have certainly been some starts and stops along the way.  Starting this blog has been an interesting experiencing. In some ways it has been much easier than I anticipated; in others, much harder.

Some days I have all kinds of ideas floating around in my head, and words effortlessly fly onto the screen.  Other days, I have ideas, but I don’t know how to convey them.  And some days, I just have no idea what to write about.  I thought for sure that it would be easy to think of something to write about every day.

Over the past 100 posts, I have found that those posts that tell a story are easier to write than others.  I think that is because the content is already determined.  I know what is going to happen, what the ending will be.  I can simply focus on how to get the content across.

One hundred posts seems like an appropriate time to think about the focus of the blog, where it has been, and where it is going.  I started doing this in order to force myself to write, instead of merely wishing that I had time to write.  I made a conscious effort to take action.  But secretly, the purpose from the outset was to find motivation to try my hand at writing a book.  I can’t tell you how many times I have come up with an idea, written it down, outlined it, and then done nothing.

So, in celebration of my 100th post (among other reasons), I have actually started writing something.  It’s only about 200 words so far, but it’s a beginning.  The full plot is still working itself out, but I’m excited about the prospect regardless of the outcome.  It seems as if it will be much easier to keep going now that I’ve gotten past the hard part of just starting.  And now I’ve blogged about it, so I have to be accountable!

Traveling Along the Path of Life in an SUV

A few weeks ago I described my experience shopping for a new car.  After sleeping on it for a few days, doing some research on the value of the car, and looking at interest rates, I decided to go back to the dealership and try to negotiate a deal.  After much back and forth, waiting, and frustration with the process, I walked away the proud owner of a new (to me) SUV.

I had been contemplating buying an SUV with third-row seating for a couple of years now.  The official purchase marks a new chapter in our lives.  I know you might be thinking “It’s just a new car.  What’s the big deal?”  For me, every big decision means thinking about how it impacts the overall path in life.

I have been telling people that now was the right time because we have two dogs.  Eighty pounds between two dogs just doesn’t quite work in a 4-door sedan.  Soon we will have to take both of them – together – to the kennel or the dog park, and it’s just easier to have cargo room for them.

All of that is true.  But that’s not the main reason.  The main reason is that it’s time to start thinking about having kids.  And don’t you need an SUV for kids and all their stuff (and your two original “kids” – the dogs)?  I refuse to drive a mini-van, so it’s this the obvious choice?

As I began to think about what the new car symbolizes, I began to think about all of the things that go along with kids.  Doctor visits, labor, delivery, maternity leave, car seats, strollers, cribs, health insurance for the little ones, day care, school, and so on and so forth.  The list was unending.  I won’t say that I became panicked.  But I quickly realized there was a lot more planning to be done.

I am considered an independent contractor at work. I say considered because I don’t think the arrangement would pass scrutinization.  Regardless, this means that I have an individual health insurance policy, no maternity services coverage, no paid time off.  Yikes!  Something is going to have to change.

What really scares me is no maternity leave.  We can handle medical expenses (probably!).  However, the two options for leave are really non-options – 1. Don’t take any time (really, this is impossible); or 2. Take the time and don’t get paid for 6 or 8 weeks (also not a viable option).  Luckily, we still have time to figure out what to do.

Save like we’ve never saved before?  Find a new job with benefits (but that requires more time in the office thus potentially impacting the pursuit of my real dreams)?  Who had any idea that all of this came along with a new car?!  I’m hoping genius strikes while I’m cruising around town in the car.  It prompted all of these thoughts.  Maybe it will provide resolution as well.

Just Write

When I saw WordPress.com’s post with this phrase come through on my Twitter feed, I didn’t know that it was related to the user-friendly changes to the dashboard.  Although it piqued my interest and I planned to read the post once I got home (because my phone is about worthless), I started thinking about what “just write” meant to me.  As I thought about it, I no longer even cared what the post was actually about.  I was already inspired to focus on just writing.  I’ve been struggling a bit lately with focus, and, I am ashamed to admit, gave up on the Post a Day Challenge and switched to Post a Week.  I even deleted my Post a Day badge.  I didn’t want to mislead anyone or take away from those who were still keeping up with the Challenge.

When I got home I pulled up my blogs and immediately noticed the changes to the Dashboard.  Things were more organized and compact.  Then I remembered I needed to actually read the post whose title alone inspired me.  As I read along, I was reminded of why I love WordPress so much.  In my opinion, the site is constantly trying to make things easier and more efficient for its bloggers.

I love the new distraction-free writing feature.  Sometimes posts write themselves, and I’m fine with all the menus around me.  But sometimes I’m not sure what to say, I’m easily distracted, I start thinking about categories and tags, etc.  Being able to push all of that aside and just focus on the post is invaluable.  I used it for the first time while writing last night’s post (yes, that’s right, a post two days in a row…maybe it’s working), and I loved how the final post was appearing before my eyes.  It helped me to keep my focus and keep writing.

Another great feature – the ability to resize the writing box.  I would often look at my tiny, narrow writing space, and think, if only there was a way to make this bigger!  I of course immediately resized it, but I don’t know that it matters much now that the full screen mode is so clean and writer-friendly.  In fact, I’m using it again.

This is the second blog that I created with WordPress, and I’ll be honest with you – I started my photo blog using another site (which will remain nameless).  After about a month of frustration caused by waiting what seemed like hours to upload the photos and the inability to easily move things around a draft post, I started looking for other options.  I found WordPress, seamlessly moved the blog over, and have been happily blogging ever since.  I mean, really, I now have two blogs!  Thanks, WordPress – I never ever thought I would be a “blogger”, and now I don’t know what I would do without this community.

Dear Blog, We Need to Talk

I think we both knew this time was coming.  We’ve been together now for about five months.  It started out a little rocky, I’ll admit.  We flirted a bit before actually beginning our relationship, but then we saw each other only sporadically.  A couple of random dates here and there.  At the first of the year (and in response to WordPress’ The Daily Post Challenge), I committed to seeing you every day.  I’ve kept up my end of the bargain fairly well – I’ve only missed a couple of days…up until recently, that is.

You’ve probably been wondering where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing.  I can assure you I have not been seeing other blogs (except my photo blog, but you knew about that going into it).  Maybe you are wondering if you’ve done something wrong.  That’s not it, but I have been thinking a lot about where we are going with this.  I try to give you good content, and in return I expect something from you.  But what?  What are we really trying to achieve?

When we started out some five months ago, I was hoping you would be a creative outlet for writing, thoughts, general musings.  But soon I realized that putting pen to paper, so to speak, was more difficult than I thought.  Those thoughts tumbling through my head didn’t easily come out in coherent writings.  So I wrote nothing.  Then we started getting together every day.  The competitive side of me was bound and determined to post something on you every day.  I’d made the commitment, after all, even placing the Post A Day image on your sidebar, announcing to the world (potentially) that it could find new content here every single day.  I had to put something, anything, on your pages.

I’ll be honest with you, I stopped enjoying our time together.  I won’t go so far as to say that I dreaded seeing you, but the quality of our time, the quality of the content I was giving you, was suffering.  Posting became something I had to do, even if maybe I didn’t want to or was just pressed for time one day.  I know that ultimately you and I exist so that I can develop my writing skills.  And after all, isn’t writing something, anything, better than writing nothing?  I started to question whether that was so.  Is crap really better than nothing?

Obviously you know that I went on vacation.  That was the longest we had ever been apart.  You might not believe this, but I spent a lot of time thinking about you.  I spent a lot of time thinking about writing.  I remembered that what I really want to do, and have tried to do since age 8 or so, is to write fiction.  Don’t worry, I’m realistic about it.  I don’t expect a best seller.  I don’t even expect to get anything published.  But to actually write something, a complete something, would be a great personal accomplishment.

So, what does this mean for us?  Don’t worry.  We aren’t breaking up.  I’m not going to start a third blog.  But I do think we need to spend less time together.  I really believe this will help me to focus on your content and make each post something we can both be proud of.  I don’t think we should cut our time to only once per week.  That’s not enough.  But I think four or five times a week would be more appropriate.  You are like running.  I just can’t run six days a week.  I get exhausted and burned out.  I don’t want that to happen with us.  I want to keep us going for as long as possible.

I also think you need some sprucing up.  I’m not criticizing you.  After all, I’m responsible for your appearance.  I think a make-over would do us both some good.  Give us a fresh perspective.  I’m sorry that I’ve let you go as long as I have, but I was so focused on posting every day that I was too tired to improve the backdrop for my writings.  I’m not sure yet what we’ll do.  I love your appropriate header photo – the blurred wave of runners starting a half marathon race in the dark – but it may be time to let it go.

I hope you understand where I’m coming from.  I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll agree with these changes.  I promise it’s only going to strengthen what we have.  I’ll see you soon.

Love,

Me

How To Fall In Love With San Francisco

I had never been to San Francisco before our honeymoon.  My experience with California had  been limited to a week in San Diego and a layover at LAX.  I knew San Francisco would be nothing like San Diego.  I was prepared with umbrellas, jackets, cardigans, and every length of pant you could think of.  I was expecting to be cold, maybe a little miserable at times, with hopefully a bit of sunshine mixed in.

Boy, did we luck out.  We had beautifully perfect weather every day we were there.  It was chilly early in the mornings and after the sun went down, but during the day I couldn’t have asked for anything better.  We stayed in North Beach at this lovely bed and breakfast across from Washington Square (aptly name The Washington Square Inn).  Considering we knew nothing about the city’s neighborhoods, we found a great location.

We arrived around 7:30 or 8 pm, and the woman at the front desk helped us with our bags and reminded us of the wine and cheese hour every evening at 5:30.  We settled into our room and found an incredibly helpful binder with a list of recommended neighborhood restaurants and what to do in San Francisco depending on the length of your stay.  Armed with dinner suggestions, we left to walk around the neighborhood.

We didn’t truly experience the hills until the next day, when we ran from our hotel to the Fisherman’s Wharf and along the pier towards the Ferry Building.  Coming back up Stockton I wasn’t sure if I could make it, but I did (and repeated that run up the hill 2 more times).  The weather was ideal for running, and what better setting can you ask for than the ocean.  Later in the trip, I had to do a 10-mile run and ran towards the Golden Gate Bridge through the Presidio.  I’ve never enjoyed a long run so much.  In fact, I felt like I could have run forever, but had to get back for breakfast.  The number of other runners and walkers out was amazing.  There were so many dogs frolicking in the grassy areas, beaches and even the water.  Oh, to be able to do this every morning.

We walked everywhere (I know – who goes to San Francisco and doesn’t ride a cable or street car), and made a pretty good exploration of the city.  I guess I should qualify my statement – we took ferries to Alcatraz and Sausalito.  I’ll admit, there were times when we reached a hill so steep that I did not believe it physically possible to walk up it in a standing position, convinced I would have to crawl up it on hands and knees.  Or we would reach a descent I thought I could not walk down without the mere weight of my upper body causing me to tumble head over heels down the sidewalk.  Neither of those things actually happened, though.

We walked to downtown and ate at Michael Mina’s RN74 and Tyler Florence’s Wayfare Tavern.  We explored Chinatown and Nob Hill.  We spent a good chunk of Saturday morning at the Ferry Building, perusing the goods at the local farmer’s market and across the street at the artists’ booths.  We walked across the Golden Gate bridge and saw dolphins! (Unfortunately, I did not have my zoom lens on and did not think it wise to try to change lenses on a windy bridge hovering over the ocean).  We perused the titles at City Lights Books for what seemed like hours, but limited ourselves to one selection each – pesky travel restrictions on suitcase weight.

Despite my efforts not to, I was in love with the city well before it was time to leave.  Then we ate breakfast at Mama’s, a restaurant catty-corner from our hotel, and it was all I could do to roll our suitcases down the hall an hour later.  I didn’t cry as we said goodbye to the City by the Bay, although I felt like it.  Since being home, we have half-jokingly researched real estate listings and job openings.  Neither of us relishes the thought of taking the California bar exam, but perhaps we find jobs as paralegals.

Coming from the midwest, the cost of living is astronomically higher.  I don’t know that we can seriously put San Francisco on our list of somedays.  But sometimes you just can’t help what you fall in love with.  I think maybe I’ll hold out for “someday.”

We May Actually Die In This Cab

One of the things that I always stress about during vacation is cab fare.  I’m going to a city that I am unfamiliar with, and have no idea how to get around or what the quickest/best routes of travel are.  For instance, when we went to Vegas to get married, we were totally taken advantage of on the way from the airport.  Took forever and cost maybe $30 or more.  Turns out we were staying literally about a mile from the airport.  Cab fare back was less than half that amount.  When we got to the New Orleans airport I saw a shuttle stand.  I figured I’d ask about cost.  It was $30 per person one way, but we could buy round trip and it would be a little cheaper.  After our experience with shuttles on the way to our airport, we opted not to go that route.

What a good choice because once we got to the cab stand we learned that rides from the airport to the French Quarter or downtown were a flat rate – and much cheaper than the shuttle.  We even found someone to share the fare with, making it even better.  We didn’t take any cabs while we were in New Orleans, traveling with our own feet or on public transportation.  When we were ready to head back to the airport, we had our hotel call for a cab.

We were doing great on time.  I was not worried even if we ran into some traffic, although that seemed unlikely at 10 am on a Thursday.  Our cab arrived and our driver was very polite.  He put our bags in the back of the van, and we were off.  I was watching out the window now that I was able to recognize the neighborhoods we had visited.  Then as we turned towards the highway, the van careened around a tight corner and I had to grab onto my seat so that I didn’t hit my head on the window.  I thought then that I should pay attention to what was coming up ahead of us.

We made it onto the highway without incident, but we quickly began to gather speed.  I’m not sure how fast we were going, but we were definitely passing most of the vehicles around us.  The driver began to weave in and out of cars to keep moving at the same pace as if he forgot where his brake pedal was.  We were moving across lanes like you wouldn’t believe.  Then, I really got nervous.  A car was coming up on our right entering the highway.  Don’t get me wrong – I am often frustrated by other driver’s understanding of the term “merge”.  However, I’m not sure who was in the wrong with this particular situation.

The car was in the entrance ramp lane, and was basically even with our cab.  Neither driver appeared to want to slow down.  We couldn’t move to the left as we had cars next to us on that side too.  As our driver refused to slow, the other driver continued to move into our lane of traffic!  Closer and closer she came even as our driver laid on the horn.  My heart was pounding a bit.  What was the rush?  We had plenty of time.  No need to risk anyone’s life!

Somehow we managed to get by her before she came all the way into our lane.  I’m almost certain our driver would have flipped her off if we hadn’t been in the cab.  We did not slow our pace after that, although the rest of the ride was mostly uneventful.

We got to San Francisco and after some research chose to go the shuttle route – a very reasonable rate per person, and based on our distance from the city I figured a cab would be much more.  Again, our driver was polite and appeared to be a bit younger than us.  He didn’t say much, but had the radio turned to an 80s and 90s soft rock station.  Strange, I thought.  I wouldn’t have pegged him as a soft rock listener, although maybe he thought that would appease the majority of his riders.  As the drive went on though, I began to hear him singing along with the songs.  I don’t just mean humming or singing along with the chorus.  I mean the entire song.  I’m convinced that this driver, had we not been there, would have been totally rocking out.

I’m not a very savvy or experienced patron of cabs, but I never fail to be amused by my experiences.  At least it provides good fodder for writing.

Wandering Through New Orleans

There is something exhilarating about running along water.  Even though we were staying a block off of Bourbon Street, we really only focused our time there a couple of nights.  As a result, we were able to get up early, run through the mostly vacant streets of the French Quarter and out to the Mississippi River.  It was a wonderful way to start each day (and justified an immediate stop after one run for beignets at Cafe du Monde).

We had beautiful weather the first four days, although we didn’t let the chill and rain hinder us from getting out the last day and a half (it was still better than home).  We wandered all through the city.  We explored the Warehouse and Garden Districts, surrounding neighborhoods, and rode a street car to the cemeteries.  I love the vibrancy and diversity of the French Quarter, but it was refreshing to see other areas of the city that we had never been to before.

We stopped in a local photographer’s gallery and after spending time pouring over his photos, we finally picked two to purchase.  He saw my camera and was kind enough to talk to me about photography and recommended places we should visit for interesting scenery.  After spending time in his gallery and other galleries along Royal Street, I realized that the history and character of the city made it easier to find beautiful images.  In order to make the same type of art at home, it’s going to take a lot more searching for beauty.

And so we spent hours searching the city for images that were not only unique to New Orleans, but that would help us to remember our time there. (I took a lot of pictures of food!)  Images that would help us to remember what the breeze felt like, how the sun warmed our cheeks and shoulders, and how, for a few days, we were truly carefree.

I always fall in love with cities that I travel to, and imagine what it would be like to live there.  What jobs we would find, how much real estate we could afford, how would the dogs react to the weather.  New Orleans remains on the list of potentials for someday.

Remember To Use Your Indoor Voice

I know that we were staying only a block off of Bourbon Street while in New Orleans, so I expected some street noise during the night.  I can deal with that.  It’s typically short-lived as whoever is stumbling by at 3:00 in the morning is on his or her way home.  What I did not expect was having to deal with excessive noise inside the hotel on multiple occasions – sometimes late at night, sometimes early in the morning.  Once I woke up to such loud voices that I actually thought people had managed to get inside our hotel room (OK, I might have still been half asleep).

One night, a group of people decided to hold an impromptu party outside our room.  I didn’t quite understand the reasoning for selecting this location, as there were no rooms directly across from ours, and I heard (through the loud discussion) that no one was in the rooms around us.  They laughed and discussed their night, decided to head to their rooms for a while, and then meet up again later.  Of course, they met up again outside our room.  You would think they would have been considerate enough to knock on the door and invite us to go!

A couple of days later, I heard voices in the hall around 5:00 am.  These particular guests were on their way out of the hotel.  There was discussion about having someone come up and get their bags, what time the cab was to arrive, and what time the flight was.

Through all of this I kept thinking, really?  Are we really so self-absorbed that we are not aware of the fact that we are in a hotel?  With other guests?  And it is late at night/early in morning?  These were not just normal talking voices.  No, these were loud, almost shouting voices – even the people checking out of the hotel.  Other than the people being noisy, there was nothing else going on in the hotel.  Nothing to impede the ability to hear someone.  No need to shout.

Now, you might be asking what I did about these rude and inconsiderate guests.  Did I fling open the door and demand quiet?  Did I crack the door and meekly ask them the please keep it down as we were trying to sleep?  Did I call the front desk and make a noise complaint?  No, I did none of these things.  I simply rolled over, put a pillow over my head and muttered under my breath.  And made sure to use my indoor voice when I was walking through the hotel (at any time of day).

How do you deal with rude people, be it at a hotel, a restaurant or the movies?  I almost always resort to muttering under my breath…

We Might Actually Miss Our Flight!

This trip was planned well in advance.  We booked our flights and hotels in mid-January.  Since we were going two places it was easiest to book through Southwest.  One-way ticket prices were very affordable and the fact that we could each check two bags at no cost made up for the limited flight times and lack of any direct flights.  Once everything was decided, we were free to anxiously wait for the trip to arrive.

As the departure date got closer, I realized we needed to figure out what we were going to do about parking the car at the airport.  Our flight out was at 7:10 am (not sure what we were thinking there!), and no one in their right mind would be willing to take us (not to mention our flight back didn’t get in until 10:25 pm).  The “economy” parking at the airport is $9 a day.  It wasn’t that long ago that it was only like $5.50 or $6.50.  I remembered that my dad had found an affordable deal at one of the hotels near the airport.  You didn’t have to stay at the hotel, but they allow you to park your car for a nominal fee per day and shuttle you over to the airport.

I searched for airport parking and found a number of hotels that offered this.  And the price was only $4.50 a day!  What a deal!  Since we were leaving the same day as the start of most area school spring breaks, there were only a few options, but one was available close to the airport.  The shuttles only run every thirty minutes, but the hotel claimed to be only five minutes from the airport.  We would have to get to the hotel earlier than if we were parking at the airport (as in 5:15 am early), but for half the cost it was worth it to me.

We got up at 3:30 in the morning, got ready, packed the car up, and arrived at the hotel right at 5:15.  I walked inside the lobby with my confirmation, which I was instructed to bring.  I told the very young woman I was there for the shuttle, and she stared at me blankly.  She then told me to hold on a minute, and went back to highlighting names on a sheet of paper.  Apparently speaking to me and highlighting was too much to do at once.  After what seemed like five minutes but was probably only thirty seconds she looked at my confirmation and asked me if that is what it was.  Umm, yes.  She then said, bear with me, I’m new and this is the first time I have done this.  My anxiety level began to rise.  She called the shuttle driver, kept saying things like “excuse me”, hung up, told me she couldn’t understand him, but that the shuttle would be there soon because they had one leaving at 5:30.

I felt a bit of relief.  That was the shuttle I expected we would be on.  We didn’t need to be at the airport until 6:10, so we had plenty of cushion.  However, as the minutes started to tick by, more and more people were trickling into the lobby, also obviously waiting for the shuttle.  At 5:45 it still wasn’t there.  I was starting to panic.  I had already paid the entire fee, and didn’t really want to end up paying $150 to park for the entire trip, but I also did not want to miss our flight.  Finally the “shuttle” pulled up, and it was merely a full-sized van.  At least 10 people, all with multiple pieces of luggage, filed out of the hotel.  The driver, a very small woman, started to put our luggage in the back, then looked up at all the people standing around, and decided she needed to get a bigger van.

I looked at my watch, looked at my husband, and we took off back to the car.  There was no way the driver was going to be able to quickly load all of the suitcases, get people in the van and get to the airport on time.  As we loaded the stuff back into the car, I dropped the bag with the computer in it.  Oh, I was going to be mad if I broke the new Mac.  I drove as quickly as I felt comfortable going.  We pulled into economy parking and managed to find a spot right next to the last shuttle stop.  The shuttle was nowhere to be seen, but I knew it would be there shortly.

It was, and it wasn’t that full.  I took that as a good sign.  Surely there would not be a lot of people there this early in the morning, spring break or not.  Boy, was I wrong.  There were people all over the airport!  The line just to check in was crazy.  We got through that, walked through the airport, and saw a sea of people crammed into the security lines.  Oh, no.  I looked at my watch again.  We should still be OK, but probably would not be able to have breakfast at the restaurant we always eat at before flying.  As we slowly creeped towards the podium to have our tickets checked, one of the people performing said job walked away.  Then they closed one of only 4 security lines.  What was the point of building a new terminal with so many security lines if none of them are ever opened?!

We finally made it to the x-ray belt, and put all of our stuff in the trays.  I had the distinct honor of going through the new super machine that requires you to put your hands above your head and basically looks through your clothes.  I walked through as was told to wait.  After what seemed like eons, my right arm was patted down and I was finally allowed to go get my stuff.  I put my shoes back on and we had just about thirty minutes to spare.   Time enough only to get some coffee and a small bite to eat.  Oh, and board the plane. We didn’t miss our flight after all.  However, I have learned that it is worth the additional cost to just park at the airport and take the reliable airport shuttle.  That was not an enjoyable way to begin our honeymoon!