“Well, I guess I’ll see you in Chicago in March then I’m off to Cedar Rapids for work and then we’ll be in Nepal in April.”
“Excuse me, mom? DID YOU JUST SAY NEPAL? As in next to India, Nepal?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
My mom is going to Nepal. In April. Dalai Lama, Nepal. She just dropped it into casual conversation. Like it’s normal to be going to Nepal. Little does she know you can’t casually drop Nepal into a conversation that started with talk of Illinois and Iowa. There’s a rule about it. Somewhere. I know there is.
And apparently Tiny Grandma and Grandpa Poopsie are going go on a river rafting trip, they are going to fly around Everest (29, 035 foot EVEREST) and RIDE ELEPHANTS THROUGH THE JUNGLE. Have you seen my mom? She’s called Tiny Grandma for a reason.
My grandparents, in their late 80′s and married for just about sixty years have taken to traveling far and wide lately also. Two years ago it was the Great Wall (as in China). Last year it was New Zealand. In April they’ll cruise around the TIP OF SOUTH AMERICA and in the fall they’ll be cruising to Russia. RUSSIA. At eighty years old. I can only imagine that my grandpa is his travel agent’s favorite client.
In the meantime, it’s Louisville, Chicago, San Francisco and Naples for me this year. (Oh, and by Naples I mean Naples, Utah. Not Italy.)