I'm Going Home

"But these places and these faces are getting old...So I'm going home." --Daughtry

I sometimes hear people wishing that their jobs would allow them to travel more.
I guess I realized these last few days I'm not that guy.

I talked to a good friend of mine today that has to travel once in awhile for work as well. We both are in agreement- we'd just assume not if we can avoid it.

When I first started my career, I traveled all the time. A lot of car trips to a lot of small towns, where all you did (heck, all you could do) was work or go to the ar, and not always necessarily in that order. Later in my career, I used to spend about 4-6 weeks every fall flying back and forth from home to Denver and various other cities. When you're a tall guy, flying is not a lot of fun, unless you're willing to pay an arm and a leg. (Sometimes when I get off those flights it feels like I did anyway, but that's another story.)

Although I haven't had to travel much in recent years, I do occasionally have to go out of town for various things. Today as I write this, I'm sitting in the San Diego International Airport waiting for a flight to take me home. We had a busy weekend last weekend- traveling out of town for a wedding, then me flying on to San Diego with Carla & Grant staying at her sister's place and heading home later.

To pass the time, I'm looking at Carla's text messages that she's sent me the last few days- pictures of Grant at the mall, carving a pumpkin, etc.

And I realize how much I want to get home.

Home can't compare to this airport restaurant, where I'm watching, among other things:
-a guy who can't handle his liquor just after the noon hour, spilling his bloody mary onto the next table with a swing of his hand;
-a group of women bragging about their latest shopping purchases (looks a little spendy to me)
-the handicapped travel cart nearly knock over the little kid who got in the way at a bad time (appears everyone is OK)
-a young guy sprinting down the corridor (must be late for his flight)

And why is travel so great again?

But then the clincher. I see a little boy about my son's age walking by with what I think is his Mom, his teddy bear firmly clutched under his arm and his little bag in tow (it's shaped like a lion's head).

I wonder if he's going to meet Daddy soon, either at this airport or another one. I sure hope he and Teddy get home safe and sound.

And that's the one thing good about traveling, everyone.

Coming home. You don't appreciate it until you leave it for awhile, even a short while.

I can't tell you how much I miss Carla and Grant when I'm gone. I can't wait to see them later tonight when I get home. I can't wait until I hear "DADDY!!!" for the first time in three days.

Daddy'll be home soon, little buddy. Time to get on the big plane.

Litter Bug

This post is for the people responsible for leaving plastic bottles, cans and various candy wrappers in the soccer nets at our neighborhood park. I will make this short since I am a little perturb about the situation. Pick up your d**n garbage! A three old has picked up your garbage twice already. There I feel much better! Thanks for letting me vent.