Longing to be home

Typically, I enjoy traveling--and even try to grin and bear it during those parts that aren't meant to be enjoyable. For instance, I make it a point to talk and joke around with the TSA guys as I am sorting all my clothes, electronics, liquids and gels into their separate bins. I religiously read the Sky Mall as the airplane sits in the take-off queue. If I didn't, how would I know about all the technological advances out there? How did we ever get along without these:


I bet hot dogs have never tasted so good!


Haven't you always wanted a garden Yeti?

But, despite all the fun I have while traveling, there is a certain longing to be home that I get during the last leg of a trip. While sitting here in the Detroit airport (which is surprisingly swanky), I find myself ready to be home. I have been on the road for the last 10 days and at this very moment, I want nothing more than to be sitting on my couch, with my dog and my husband, watching the winter snow come down. Instead, I am sitting in the airport, with hundreds of strangers, watching the snow come down, while I keep one eye on the departure screen. They've just announced we're boarding...so with my fingers crossed (which makes it hard to type!), I'll sign off here.