Club Soda + Lime

Day 56 + 57: Home sweet home.

I'm Katy

Here I spill the tea on balancing hustle and heart with tips and tricks for thriving in business while taking care of yourself, because success is best served with a side of serenity!

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I love to vacation and this one was better than most.

I must have not made that very clear though because after I finally got all the articles up on the blog and they were sent out last night I had a few “encouraging” texts, emails and Snap Chats. A few “hang in theres” and a couple of motivating graphics.

Don’t get me wrong…I’ll take all of those whenever I can get them so thank you to those of you that reached out. I’m just fine.

And, while I love to get a break from reality and soak up some sun, I don’t especially love the “traveling” part. The airports, car rides, suitcase lugging, running the escalator gauntlets with kids that don’t quite get it. You know what I’m talking about…the hesitation of a 6-year-old right at the top of the escalator with the horrific scene flashing before your eyes of her tumbling down the metal stairs or her shoe lace getting caught in the teeth of the stairs as it rolls under at the bottom.

Oh, that’s just me? Sorta graphic. Sorry.

I always feel dirty after I travel. Even if I shower in the morning before we leave. It’s like there’s a film of grime you’re required to pass through that airports, cheap motels, Ubers and TSA checkpoints all have.

And, man, did we have a cheap motel last night.

Dale is usually pretty darn good about researching things. It’s actually quite annoying. He’ll read 100 reviews about a meat thermometer and then report what he finds on each one, mostly on deaf ears. He must have run out of time to research when booking a place to stay before our early morning flight.

Let’s just say it was, ahem, on the wrong side of the Orlando air field. The pool was nice enough complete with a very voluptuous, confident young woman that clearly did not like tan lines on her back side. Quite an education for my 9 year old son…and 37 year old husband. I especially loved it when she got up off her chaise lounge (on all fours, ass out), put on her Reeboks with the straps and headed to the vending machine for a late afternoon snack. The three gentlemen drinking a little sumpin’ sumpin’ out of their Days Inn styro foam cups just shook their heads. It was quite comical as I watched from behind my sunglasses. I’m guessing they had the room next to us as Latino music pumped from behind the walls most of the night, according to Dale. I slept like a baby.

Three-thirty this morning came real early for everyone. After packing up everything yet again, we hopped in to a roomy Uber XL at 4:00am. While the driver was nice, he also kept snorting back snot and clearing his throat making me think that he was probably sick. Jesus H. just get me home.

I did get a good chuckle out of the Starbucks lady at the airport that thought I said my name was Kenny though.

Over the past few months as I have written down goals and tried to narrow down my extensive list of dreams. Travel has always surfaced to the top. I don’t know if it’s because it’s socially acceptable to name travel as one of your top priorities if you had a surplus of scratch or what. I totally have a Pinterest board named “travel” with images of grass huts in crystal blue water, mountain lodges on lakes of glass and Irish fields of green. But I never actually think about what it would take to get to all of these places; the travel time, the airport lines, jet lag, putting my life in the hands of a cab driver careening through the streets on the wrong side of the road, the weeks it would take to schedule my kids’ lives for someone else to take responsibility for.

And, while I could definitely talk myself out of traveling at all except to non-stop Southwest hubs, I won’t. And this trip, ironically enough, was the one that taught me that.

As you may know I have inundated myself with personal development/self-help/woo woo/spirituality/goal setting/positivity/you choose books, both audio and real, for the past few months. Unfortunately, I can’t remember where this little ditty is from, I think from The Power of Now, but it’s put a whole new perspective on travel, among other things.

Now is right now.

Simple right? The concept is just that and at it’s core, even believable. But holy shit is it hard to grasp. As I was walking and listening to the author talk about how guilt and shame come from the past, which we can not change, and worry and anxiety are in the future, which we have the power to change, but only right now, I almost stopped in my tracks.

He goes on to suggest that, in the moment, we use our senses to appreciate what’s happening right that second; colors, sounds, feelings of air or fabric on our skin, etc. For me, it was the birds chirping, the palm trees waving in the breeze, the warm air on my face, the smell of the ocean.

Since the traveling part has never been that fun for me and I was already getting anxious about doing it again in a few days, I vowed to try this technique. And, of course, it totally worked.

When I felt myself getting caught up either in my head or having a physical reaction to something, I looked around at all the colors in the airport, listened to the too-early-in-the-goddamn-morning-rap-music blaring on the sick Uber guy’s stereo, watched my kids with pride as they wheeled their own suitcases through the terminal, enjoyed the sunrise out the plane window.

And I only whined a little when I got slapped in the face with 12 degrees when we safely arrived in Milwaukee.

What does this have to do with not drinking? This, my friends, has everything to do with not drinking. My anxiety over the last few days would have been palpable. In turn, medicated by margaritas or beer or whatever those boys had in their Days Inn styro. And then everything compounding today by a hangover and very little patience. How do I know this? Say it with me…I have had 20 years of proof.

Instead, we all just rolled along with only one sideways stank-eye after a little flip out at the TSA checkpoint. Those recombobulation areas are not just for putting your shoes back on. They’re for getting ALL your shit together.

Well, there’s my two days in a nutshell. I was just too caught up in the Kids Baking Championship on the Food Network to write last night. Those kids are really freaking unbelievable.

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i write therefore i am.

Hi, I'm Katy.
Your lifestyle designer and business mentor.

Writing is my way of unwinding and letting my thoughts roam free. Every so often, in the midst of this creative chaos, something clicks, and I'm like, "Hmm, maybe someone else will dig this too." So, I toss it out into the world, hoping it lands with someone who gets it.
I hope that's you.

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The Struggle of High-Achieving Women

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