The Plan

It started about a year ago.


Darling husband (DH) and I were out for a walk with our dachshund. These walks have become moments where we talk about the mundane and the profound - work, groceries, schedules, friends, chores and the meaning of life. It was during one of these walks my DH announced that for our 20th anniversary, he wanted us to go to Europe for three weeks. Three weeks? While many Europeans would not think of this as being radical; Americans typically get two weeks of vacation a year. That's it. Three weeks was huge, 21 plus days of vacation. How on earth was he going to pull that off? Teaching at a local college, taking three weeks off in the summer wasn't difficult for me, but for DH's IT job, it certainly would not be as easy. However, he is a man who often makes the impossible a reality. Three weeks it would be.


Fast forward to the end of September.


One evening curled up on the sofa, I was cleaning out my inbox from work. With my father passing in the previous month; my emotions were raw. Deleting old e-mails felt calming, almost cleansing. As I went through the month's messages, an e-mail jumped out to me - "Fulbright-Hays Seminars Abroad Program." At first I thought this was for students, another announcement for me to pass on to my classes. But it wasn't for students, it was for teachers. The announcement was a call for applications to study in Egypt for five weeks over the summer, enhancing and developing curriculum. The program was specifically for faculty with little or no background in Ancient Egypt or Islamic studies, but covered those areas in their classes. Oh yes, that was me. The dates? June 29th to July 31st.

"Honey, when in June were you thinking about us going to Europe?"

"I dunno, hadn't thought about it yet. When were you thinking?"

"Um, early June?"

We then had to pull out the calender to see when Wonderful Son (WS) was graduating high school. (He, too, was coming to Europe with us.) June 3rd. Well, if we went on vacation right after he graduates... this could actually work. First go to Europe, the guys fly back to the States and I go on to Egypt. Holy Sinkin' Cow.


The proceeding months were exhibitions of my Virgo tendencies; of combing over my application and attempting to appear calm and intelligent during the interview. Then came the waiting. It was during this period that I was reduced down to the emotional level of an overeager teenager, waiting for the cute guy to call her after he asked for her number. I was obsessively checking my e-mail. Will they call me if I don't get accepted, or leave me in this hell of not knowing? If they just tell me, at least we could start shopping for tickets to Europe, as I weep in a corner. The week when they expected to let the applicants know passed at the end of November. Then came December, when out of sheer desperation I e-mailed the program director, asking if the lack of news meant that I was not selected. Oh no, they were still evaluating. I was then reading a line in the e-mail "I want to thank you for your interest and application." Thank me? How? Like a cryptic note passed in the back of biology class I started reading into every nuance of that sentence. My office mate begged me to delete the e-mail, I was obsessing way too much. But I just couldn't. The end of the semester came and my energy level just sank to the point that I couldn't obsess anymore. I almost didn't care, I was just worn out. It was then, of course, when I got the call. Yes, I was accepted to go to Egypt.


This reality has yet to truly sink into my head, and we're leaving in less than four weeks. When I go about telling other people about my upcoming summer, I often feel like I'm having an outer-body experience. Part of my mind is listening intently to what I was saying, with utter shock and disbelief. "You're going to Amsterdam, and then Belgium and then all around Italy and then EGYPT? Are you serious?"

Yes, I am. That's the plan.