Planes, Airport Trains and Tiny Automobiles

Travel: Both painful and beautiful. Like a tattoo. A decision to torment ones self for the purpose of engraving memories for eternity.

One redeye, one airport train, two continents, two toddlers, two tiny backpacks, three airplanes, four suitcases, four airports, six time zones, 18 hours, 20,000 matchbox cars.

When you think about spending 18 hours in incredibly close proximity, sharing air, snacks and leg room with your family, you don't always think, "bring it!" It isn't all romance, but it is a great exercise in family bonding. Sure, Peter's bouts of screaming, "All Done!" during each take-off or Sam fighting Pete for the iPod weren't my faves, but I certainly don't remember Sam cuddling up next to me and getting to lay my hand on his curly locks for eight hours straight recently or watch the rise and fall of his superman clad chest and I don't usually have the opportunity to let Pete nap in my arms anymore.

In the event of a napping emergency, you will find 'Goodnight Moon' in the seat-back pocket in front of you.

We resorted to "forced napping" on the third and final leg to freshen the boys spirits (we needed another type of spirit by this time). And kicked back to enjoy our shortest leg, just an hour and a half from Salt Lake to Spokane, quite zippy after a nearly nine hour flight from Brasilia to Atlanta. The shortest, but unarguably the hardest.

Clouds of my neighborhood:

We were greeted by the open arms of my family, Grandad, Ma, Uncle Dan and Aunt J and crisp fresh fall tones and air. Upon arriving home we welcomed Aunt Joyce and Uncle Robert to town for a good, old fashioned family holiday.

Jet lag is a kick in the rear and even more painful with a roll back of time, adding yet another hour to our great battle. However, after celebrating an early Thanksgiving on Sunday, let's call it "First Thanksgiving," sleep seems to be just a condiment on the Thanksgiving table of life. Take it or leave it, I'll have more turkey!