I. Love. Fog.

The older I get, the easier it is to get worn out.

About a month ago, we got back from a two-week trip to the Pacific Northwest with the kids. It was an intense trip, constantly on the go. Rory and I then had less than two weeks to recover until we left again, this time for Santa Barbara to housesit for a friend. The housesitting turned out to be a little more intense than anticipated (I’ll spare you the details), and the drive home involved a lot of traffic jams.

We really hadn’t recovered from our first trip before going on our second. And now it’s been a few days since the second, and we’re still pooped. I’m emotionally spent, prone to crying jags, and wanting to go hide in a hole for a few days to rest. But, life goes on.

My takeaways are these: I can’t handle long drives anymore. I definitely shouldn’t take two trips almost back to back. It only takes two weeks away to really miss my own home. And I wish I could afford to live in the Santa Barbara area (it’s just… lovely).

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