The Pits and Pieces

  We think our lives are made up of the big moments, when in reality they consist of many small ones. I was recently reminded of this by two things: a) a discussion topic with Ageless Possibilities group on the magic of every day and b) this passage from the book PERFECT by Rachel Joyce: “… it is these, he realizes, these smallnesses, that make up the big things. Besides, the big things in life do not present themselves as such. They come in the quiet, ordinary moments – a phone call, a letter – they come when we are not looking, without clues, without warning, and that is why they floor us. And it can take a lifetime, a life of many years, to accept the incongruity of things: that a small moment can sit side by side with a big one, and become part of the same. ” Many of us can remember those big moments that came quietly and floored us. A phone call announcing a death, a medical diagnosis, an illness, a job loss. The big moments that are carefully planned (weddings, milestone

  The weather in Scotland can be unpredictable, rain almost a given, and yet my eight days there were filled with sunshine, while the air at home was thick with smoke from nearby forest fires. I was lucky to escape the unhealthy air here (especially given my history of mild asthma) and step into weather so perfect. In a nutshell, the logistics: I was in Glasgow for three nights, took a day-trip to Edinburgh by train, then on to Inverness where I stayed one night before joining a two-day/one night bus tour (16 of us) to the Isle of Skye. Back to Inverness for a night after the tour, one night in Perth, and last night in Glasgow before flying home. Quite a whirlwind as I generally like to stay in places for more than a single night. Quairing Travel is a luxury, I get it. For me though, travel is more than a nice escape from the daily routine. It is a necessary part of my MO, feeding my spirit of adventure and desire to roam. Not only do I discover new places, cultures, food, museums,

  There used to be a time, so long ago that if you’re under a certain age you likely won’t remember, that air travel was glamourous. Yes, indeed. We dressed up to board a plane. No shlepping on board in baggy pants and sneakers. You walked on with wonder and anticipation. Everyone was unfailingly polite, and the flight attendants (air hostesses in those days), were like movie stars, stylish creatures from another planet. And now? A slog through an airport, long lines, hauling out your liquids in little plastic baggies, being barked at to remove your shoes, and then the actual flight itself in a cramped seat with your head jerking and bobbing as you attempt to sleep, is something to be endured, something you’d give your eye-teeth to avoid, but how else are you going to hop across the pond? When I was a child, living in Bahrain, we went every two years to Karachi for the summer, first by ship (which took a week) and then by plane (only a few hours!). The seas were often rough and cho