And it's true; there's no place like home.
Paris is all the things . . . but still, there is no place like home.
Like any trip, there are moments. Memories. Stories.
I'll be sharing a lot.
I'm going to start out with a statement of truth. This from a woman who never misses an opportunity to share her thoughts about age. "You're only as old as you feel." "Age is just a number." Yada yada yada.
I am 78 years old. I am not going to presume to know how anyone else feels at age 78, but I can tell you this - I am feeling . . . older.
My reflexes aren't what they used to be. My mind not as sharp. My body not as thin. My mobility kinda sucks. Getting up to a stable standing position after sitting for very long - oh, Lordy, what a struggle. My legs scream nasty bad words at me when my brain alerts them to stairs and inclines. My strength is waning and my balance done waned. Toss in my hearing loss, and here I am. Forget being a woman of a certain age. Honey. I am one old broad.
Does any of this mean I'm ready to hang up my traveling shoes?
As much as flying has changed. As brutal as sitting straight up in an uncomfortable seat on a plane seemingly impossible to find a happy medium between "way too hot" and "way too cold" - no. Nope. Not ready to hang up my traveling shoes.
Especially when there's an opportunity to travel with someone I love.
(A little unsolicited advice here <even though i truly do detest unsolicited advice> - do not DO NOT travel long distances with someone you do not love.)
And I do love my pal Vickie.
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| From our balcony |










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