Stupid Rocks.....

I think that if you ask my mom and dad they will tell you that traveling with me is....how do you say.....brutally painful, stressful, and difficult. There are the actual practical issues of having to pack a suitcase just for the "baby stuff", not being able to just carry on your luggage any more, and having to check your luggage and pray to whatever God you believe in that the airlines loses someone else's luggage.

There are also the issues of worrying about cancellations, delays, and weather. Also, figuring out how to gate check the seat and stroller in such a way that it does not come back coated in grease, dirty and whatever that brown stuff was, and the endless waiting for them to be redelivered to you upon arrival; how to get me on and off a plane and keep me from enjoying a primal scream or two, and of course dealing with a stroller that is returned to them with only one handle still attached.

Once we arrive at our destination there are the issues of getting a crib and staying in small hotel room with a baby who likes to raise both her feet up in the air and slam them down on her bed - not because she needs anything, but just because she can. The fact that some people in the hotel don't think that 8:00pm is a reasonable/respectable bed time on a Friday or Saturday night, and thus want to open and slam their doors, get ice, run up and down the stairs and carry on excessively loud conversations in the halls - all of which will undoubtedly wake me up!

There are also the issues that you can't really plan for: jet-lag, exposure to new germs = sickness, constantly over-tired baby, being unable to plan because the travel has made me unpredictable, and their need to do things in the locations to which we travel.

Thus far in my life I've been to two art shows, one in Miami back in December and one last weekend. Now, while I enjoy the occasional change of scenery, I'm pretty content to go from my bedroom to the TV room, that's all the excitement I need in a day -- well, that and my bouncing Tigger.

In fact, I'm willing to go out on a limb here people and say, no more! To paraphrase my dad's brother, Uncle Mike - who upon arriving at the Grand Canyon declared, "I'm not getting out of the car to see any more stupid rocks", let me say this: "I'm not leaving this house to get on any damn plane to see any more stupid art!"

I don't mean to sound like an art snob, but come on, once you've seen one Venet, you've seen them all.