Tuesday, January 15, 2013

broken resolutions

A while back I put a cap on the amount of times my mother and I would travel together. The limit being once a year. Not that I don't love her. (I do mom, I promise). It stems more from the fact that traveling with my mother can, at times, be... more of an adventure than it is worth.

Come August, we had blown that once a year rule out of the water. So it only seemed fitting that she and I would go off on a private Christmas holiday together. Not that I really had a choice in the matter.
Skype call- November 4, 2012 
Mom: Well, Claire, I just heard from your brother that he is not joining me for Christmas. That means you are. 
Me: uhm... okay?
Mom: So where are we going?
Anywhere warm, came my response. As beautiful as Germany is over Christmas, if you've seen it 3 times, you've seen it enough.  And I hate the cold.

A list of options came spewing out of her mouth. Spain, Portugal, the Canary Islands. I had visions of Christmas planning's past and had to put a stop to it before things got out of control. So I suggested Oman.

She contacted me a day later, after looking up images of the country, and explained that she didn't want to visit Oman since it wasn't Christmas-y enough. She then suggested we travel to either Egypt or Morocco.

Yeah. I don't get it either.

In the end, we agreed on a place that was better than any option we had previously discussed.


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