When opportunity knocks....

My mother has made me a tremendous offer. The opportunity of a lifetime. A trip to Jordan AND Egypt next March. Of course, I have to pay her back, but her enthusiasm over me going overrides any immediate financial responsibility. Scott will not go, but admitted he knew this moment would come, when he'd have to give me his blessing to gallivant off to an exotic locale without him - he just didn't expect it to be the Middle East. I wasn't looking for permission from him, but acceptance, and I got it with only a sigh & a long look. Jordan & Egypt are near Bad, Bad & Even Worse, but how can I pass it up? To see the city of Petra carved into the rose-colored rock, the Dead Sea, camping in the desert... funny thing is, is that when Mom first brought it up, she mentioned only Jordan - which I was into right off the bat. This past January, she travelled with the same tour group to Egypt & saw all the requisite Egyptian attractions along with some other things that I can't even begin to fathom. On Saturday she handed me the itinerary and Lo! It visits Egypt, too. Two life's travel goals in one trip? How can I say no?

It's a two week tour beginning in Cairo. It's so impossible to imagine, I can't even begin to wrap my head around it. Scott is certain that after I leave the airport, the next time he'll see me is on CNN on my knees in a blindfold & orange jumpsuit. I told him to take a careful look at my captors because, chances are, they'll have a few teeth knocked out, bloodied nose & because of that, he might only see Mom. Ha! Really, he has to rest assured that the group will be accompanied by an armed guard and a knowledgeable Egyptian guide. It'll open my already gaping mind even more. I'm so excited, yet so.... dazed... about it... it's just surreal.

It makes me ill thinking about leaving Scott for that long, esp. after the last time we were separated, inconveniently when terrorists decided to fly planes into the skyscrapers in NY, not to head to the neutral, low-key Bahamas, but straight into the Middle East. Still, the idea that in March I'll be boarding a flight from JFK into Cairo is pure craziness. I have pictures of Petra that I've chopped out of travel brochures (they're now hanging on my fridge) - it's been on my list-of-things-to-do-before-I-die since I was around 14 or so when I first laid eyes on the first pic & thought it was one of the most mystical things I'd ever seen. It's a helluva opportunity. I can't pass it up. I must go! I might never get the chance again, and, if I don't go, I'll be bitter about my decision for the rest of my life.

Besides, someone's gotta keep Mom from running out in front of a donkey cart. When she went to Egypt, I was fully expecting to get a phone call saying she'd been trampled by a camel.

Fleabag

Sunday morning we slept in, showered & ran into Mixins for breakfast/lunch, then on into Urbana to feed & clean-up Scott's parents cats (they went to the Bears game much to Scott's envy) & then back home to do yardwork, clean up the house & maybe go fish or hike later. But, this was not to be. About 3 o'clock, I was watching Wilson. Noticed he was a little itchy. I grabbed a brush & ran it thru him - and what did I see? FLEA DIRT. I grabbed Vincent. Saw the little vermin marching around thru his otherwise clean fur. Rolled the dog over on his back - sure enough, fleas just partying it up in his nether regions. Scott & I stared at each other over Turk's waving paws, appalled. Never, in all the years we've been together or since we've had Turk, have we had a flea problem. We spazzed out & War was declared. By 3:15, we were on our way to Springfield for ammunition. Of course, we couldn't get the good vet-prescribed flea-killer stuff, but with fleas, time is of the essence especially when you have 10+ warm, hairy bodies. It was pretty funny tho' - the whole way there we were scratching in paranoia, suspiciously eyeballing each other whenever one of us scratched. But, we came home, armed with the most expensive OTC drops we could get, a new bottle of carpet cleaner, and two bottles of uber-expensive flea spray. And we went to town. The cats were dropped & locked in various rooms, the dog was dropped & locked in the garage. We swept, tore the furniture apart, swept, pulled stuff out, swept, and finally cleaned carpets. Furniture & pillows were sprayed down, blankets & all clothing were washed. Then, we let the cats out of the bedroom & green room & repeated this whole process with those two rooms. At 8 o'clock, we loaded up the dog bedding & our huge comforter & carted off to the laundromat. By 9, we were back home, reassembling our living room & preparing to cook dinner - we had thawed out some panfish & HAD to cook it, but it was a welcome & tasty end to a long day. Our bedroom is quite nice tho' - the carpet is cleaner than it's been since we moved in, all the bedding was fresh & soft - we've both slept very well the past couple nights. This morning, the cats were still all spiky-furred & annoyed. Those fleas had better be gone! I don't know how they could survive such a vicious, methodical onslaught!

Goddamn parasites. Do they really have a purpose? Really?