Taken my my father on his Blackberry while I chatted with my parents and other relatives who were up in Maine. My Dad later told my brother that talking to Nora on “Skypee” was incredible.

Have a great Labor Day weekend, everyone!

go to Maine
have a Frappuccino
walk by the water almost every day
drink (most of) our wine
read “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”
reread “Wuthering Heights”
make mint iced tea with my mint plant
run a road race
grow and eat our own tomatoes
see the coffee exhibit at the Peabody
publish another first person essay
eat at Lenny’s (again)
go to Poland
see some fireworks
take Nora to the beach
take a walking tour of Yale
read “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
show my parents how to video chat
publish another first person essay
buy some new bookcases
read a non-fiction book
read another non-fiction book
take a class, any class
organize the basement
go to Scranton
bake my own bread
steam my own mussels
see a live concert
have a picnic in Prospect Park
have coffee on the patio

Went to Poland. Saw Max and Kasia get married. Danced all night. Witnessed extreme vodka drinking. Reconnected with old friends. Made new ones. Drove through beautiful countryside in a tiny car. Remembered how much I love stick shift. Ate pierogies. Met an adorable puppy. Learned how to say “thank you” in the native tongue. Learned no other Polish words. Didn’t get lost…that much. Saw castles and cathedrals in Krakow and Prague. Found a fire-breathing dragon. Took ice cream breaks and pictures and had very few stressful moments. Relaxed in bustling historical squares over coffee. Slept in palaces and former communist holding cells. Watched our child charm countless strangers. And more stories to come.

I’ve been in almost non-stop Poland planning mode this past week, to the point where J had to state strongly, “Cara! Everything’s fine! We’ll get it all done!” this morning because I was asking repetitive questions regarding certain items on my to do list. That’s just how I am about travel. It makes me nervous, and it’s multiplied by 1,000 since having a child, because I have to pack for her, too.

Plus, there is the level of unfamiliarity involved with this particular trip to the Czech Republic and Poland. Here is one of the lines from the Google Maps directions I got for the drive from the Prague airport to our destination on Friday:

Continue onto Jižní spojka (signs for Teplice/Mladá Boleslav/Hradec Králové/Spořilov)

Now, COME ON.

But in all seriousness, there is something about the thrown-together/unknown lands/chatty toddler/Polish wedding part of this trip that makes me all the more excited. It’s going to be really fun, and really, really funny.

Nora’s beyond ready and has been screaming about Poland for a couple days now, despite the fact that she doesn’t know what Poland is. When I told her we were going upstairs to change her diaper earlier this morning she said, “No! Poland! Airplane!” and I was like, you’ve got it, little one. One more day. And we are going to have the time of our lives.

I know I’ve been pretty quiet lately, and there are a few good reasons why. First of all, this is August. The lazy days of summer when nobody really works or does anything productive. Right? You guys out there with real jobs? You’re not actually working, right?

Secondly, we’ve had a lot going on lately, including a few weekends away here and there, and most notably, planning an upcoming trip to Poland for Max’s wedding. And we’re taking Nora. We tell everybody this. “And guess what? We’re taking Nora.” Then we wait and see how badly they want to tell us we’re crazy.

Of course, I don’t think we’re crazy, and in fact can’t wait for this little family adventure, which will also include a visit to Prague. I’m loving the idea of this trip because it’s probably not somewhere I’d have gone anytime soon if not for this wedding. Planning is more challenging than I’m used to. All the z’s and consonants in general in every hotel name and restaurant listing. Let’s face it, I’m probably never going to learn Polish.

But that’s the thing. I think getting out of your comfort zone is really important every now and then. Like taking a nine-hour flight with your toddler, who throws violent, violent tantrums when the oatmeal isn’t done as fast as she wants it. Guess what, Nora? No oatmeal on airplanes. But castles in Krakow and pierogies and making new friends in faraway places? Worth it.

I used Julia Child’s recipe for moules a la mariniere. And then we ate them on the front steps with fresh bread from local Italian deli.

Um, I have a lot of reading and writing to do. I’m also debating whether the cocktail making “class” we took at a local bar and restaurant counts for this list. I say yes. And you guys? What’s the verdict?

go to Maine
have a Frappuccino
walk by the water almost every day
drink (most of) our wine
read “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”
reread “Wuthering Heights”
make mint iced tea with my mint plant
run a road race
grow and eat our own tomatoes
see the coffee exhibit at the Peabody
publish another first person essay
eat at Lenny’s (again)
go to Poland
see some fireworks
take Nora to the beach
take a walking tour of Yale
read “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
show my parents how to video chat
publish another first person essay
buy some new bookcases
read a non-fiction book
read another non-fiction book
take a class, any class
organize the basement
go to Scranton
bake my own bread
steam my own mussels
see a live concert
have a picnic in Prospect Park
have coffee on the patio

I feel like if she wears this, we will be treated better everywhere we go.

Today is the last day that my parents will live in the Alexandria, VA house that they bought when I was 16. So it’s not my childhood home, but it is the site of a trillion high school memories. I made some of my very best friends in the world when I was in high school - friends I still talk to multiple times a day over email - and we had a lot of fun in that house during our high school years, and while reuniting over Christmas and summer breaks from college. My parents aren’t moving far away, so I’ll still often head to the D.C. area for holidays and visits, but I won’t take the Telegraph Road South exit anymore, past the old site of the Honolulu Restaurant and the Good News Baptist Church and by the weeping willow tree up into our driveway.

This morning I emailed my parents and asked them to perform the following acts of remembrance, honoring my teenage self and beyond, so that I could properly say goodbye to the place that I, for many years, called home:

1. Stand in my room and shed a tear for Jerry Garcia.
2. Go to the site of the old abandoned barn and read an e.e. cummings poem.
3. Skinny dip in the pool.
4. Make ill-tasting but innovative alcoholic concoctions in the drum room - like gin and orange juice or amaretto and milk.
5. After that, have a dance party.
6. Stay up all night reading John Steinbeck.
7. Write college essays in your bathrobe just under deadline, groaning the whole time.
8. Have a family dinner at the dining room table.
9. Watch scary movies in the den.
10. Have a grappa in the living room.
11. Stage a full-scale Christmas dinner, complete with witty political and social commentary.
12. Pierce your ears. Start a club.
13. Book a ska band for the back yard.
14. Walk to 7-11 in the snow, barely avoiding frostbite.
15. Blast Soundgarden in Vinnie’s room. Then the “1812 Overture.”
16. Go for a long run.
17. Make a mixed tape by recording favorite songs from the radio.
18. Play the Jesus and Mary Chain while figuring out what to wear.
19. Write a letter to your boyfriend.
20. Put on bright lipstick. Kiss the wall.

Nora and I are headed to Pennsylvania for a quick trip to visit my grandmother, where we will catch up with family and participate in one of my all-time favorite activities: sitting around over coffee in the morning. For hours. This is what the women in my mother’s family do.

J hates this. We wake up, serve ourselves whatever kind of delicious breakfast pastry my grandmother bought that week and talk forever in our pajamas. Gossip. Life lessons. The good old times, whatever.

After experiencing this for the first time, J was like, “Are you kidding me?” He had, of course, awoken before everyone else, showered and assumed we were going to, well, do something. Maybe that’s the male mentality, I don’t know.

He’s staying here this weekend because he’s got a ton of work to do. So while I was packing this morning, I showed him the bathrobe I was putting in my duffel bag. “Do you know why I’m packing this?” I asked him. “It’s for sitting around in the morning and -”

Before I could get the words out of my mouth he was all but yelling, “OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO BE HERE BEING SO PRODUCTIVE DURING THAT TIME.”