I grew up in the boondocks of Pennsylvania. My mother was a superior cook, but our diet was fairly "meat & potatoes" with lots of desserts (heaven for a budding food addict). It's comical to look back at the fact that Dad became furious if Mom served rice; sometimes I think she did it just to piss him off. (No need to wonder why I experienced a lot of stress around food and meal times!) Dad refused to fly, so Mom took me with her on international trips which introduced us to many new foods. I remember Mom and I discussing that when we got home, the first thing we wanted was a good ole American cheeseburger.
Having a dog has changed the "coming back home" dynamic. I miss Barney so much when I am away. I know he will be waiting at the door, tail wagging, ready for a lick fest to tell me how much he missed me. This is true whether I've been away 15 minutes or 15 days. With enthusiasm like that, who wouldn't be excited to return home?!?!?!!
I love vacations, and I love coming back to the familiar comfort of home.
|"Yippee! You're back!"|