I used to do cool things. Really cool National Geographic special-type things. I rode a bamboo raft down the Mekong River in Thailand. I took the Reunification Express from Ho Chi Minh City to DaNang (don't let the word 'express' fool you - there was nothing fast or comfortable about that trip). I swam in the South China Sea. I rode motorcycles all over Vietnam. I ate grubs in a village in Northern Thailand. I trekked in the Himalayas in Nepal. I've ridden chicken buses all over SE Asia and Central America. I hung out with a Buddhist monk in Laos and learned that he had a CD player (how zen). I've heard the Hong Kong Symphony Orchestra in Hong Kong. Due to a quick-thinking driver, I narrowly avoided a mugging/possible kidnapping in El Salvador AFTER my plane made an emergency landing there when it was struck by lightening only hours before. I visited Zambia by myself and interviewed adolescents affected by AIDS on the Congolese border. I worked on maternal-child health issues in Guatemala and Honduras, visiting villages high up in lush green mountains. I went to the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I've worn a bikini on Copacabana beach. I ate conch in Belize and climbed Mayan ruins there too. And that's just the beginning.
What did I do today?
Today I was pulled from the car by a toddler who thought she 'might' have to poop. ("Try again later," she decided after I unbuckeled her and ran her up three flights of stairs). About ten different times today Margot asked to sit on the potty - during breakfast, lunch, while I was working, before I went to the gym, after we got home from the gym...Each time she was very urgent about it and I'd dash up the stairs with her in my arms. Each trip produced nothing (except a little extra exercise and some aggravation for me). Is this what my life has come to? Hardly the makings of a National Geographic special.