We’re Going to Turkey

That’s right: We’re Going to Turkey.

I wasn’t supposed to do this this year. Really I wasn’t. We were supposed to stay put this year. Recover a little financially. Travel a lot more locally. And then jet off again next year.

I failed. Yes. I. It was me. And even though we both get to go to Turkey because of it, it is I alone who is weak. The husband would have been happy to tour the back yard with snacks. But no. The wife could not.

But that’s ok, isn’t it? It’s ok to spend too much time on flight apps and Google image searches and to click on Every Single Travel Link cleverly presented by Facebook.

Remember when we went to Zanzibar and our flight home was a nightmare and I said to myself I need a break from airports and flights for a really really long time because I really do hate flying and it will be nice not to be on a plane for a while?

It didn’t last.

And then my silly mom said “I’ll buy you some plane tickets” and now here I am and we’re going to Turkey.

We’re calling it a birthday present to myself.

That’s ok, right?

Oops.

(Ps: I’m aware that my husband should be in this selfie as well but he’s at work and I only took the pic just now so he’s just represented by his passport for now. Maybe I should ask him to send me a happy selfie?)

Update: He sent me his happiness….

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